"She's so generous… sharing such valuable blooms with the entire pack," someone murmured, their voice carrying faint admiration as the scent of imported roses lingered through the workspace.
At that moment, Elliot halted mid-step, his expression shifting instantly as his instincts sharpened. The subtle traces of his morning's offering were everywhere, each workstation marked with a single red rose that still held his personal energy, carefully selected with intent before the meeting, each one a deliberate signal within the pack.
He recognized them at once.
His gaze darkened, irritation rising beneath the surface as the realization settled—what had been meant as a personal offering had been redistributed without hesitation. Without another word, he turned sharply and walked back toward the meeting area, the shift in his aura enough to quiet the space around him.
