Benedict's POV
The strawberry's tartness hit my tongue like a slap, sharp and unwelcome. A harsh reminder that even in my carefully controlled world, imperfection could still slip through the cracks. I let the fruit drop from my mouth, watching it splatter against the pristine marble floor. The red juice spread in chaotic patterns, a wild stain marring my perfect sanctuary.
"Who selected these."
The guard stationed behind me tensed, his leather boots creaking with nervous energy. Fear had its own distinct sound when you learned to recognize it properly.
"I'm uncertain, Alpha."
"Find out. Bring them to me."
His immediate departure satisfied me. There was an art to knowing when to exit a room, much like understanding when silence served better than words.
