"The coffee's good," I said, setting the cup down with a quiet sigh.
The tension in my body had eased completely now. Elliot was in the kitchen, moving with calm precision as he sliced fruit for the salad, while a raw steak sat beside the chopping board waiting to be seared for me.
The villa itself felt like a neutral Alpha territory—halfway up the hill, wrapped in glass walls that opened to endless forest and skyline. The morning light poured in, and with the soft music Elliot had put on, the entire space carried a strangely peaceful pack warmth, like a territory that had chosen not to fight.
Elliot worked like he belonged there.
Effortless.
Controlled.
Dangerous in a quiet way.
The steak he prepared was aromatic and perfectly seared, paired with a simple fruit salad that somehow felt intentional rather than casual. It wasn't extravagant—but it was balanced, like he was trying to stabilize more than just a meal.
