CHAPTER 49: SILVER-EYED STRANGER.

I stepped out of the bathroom already dressed — pants, shirt, even socks.

It felt stupid, honestly. Who showers and changes inside the bathroom like they’re hiding from a ghost?

But I didn’t want to walk out half-naked and have Alexander look at me in some type of way.

Not that he ever had... but still.

When I opened the door, my stupid paranoia disappeared.

There he was.

Alexander stood near the bed, tugging at the collar of the shirt we picked out earlier. The dark fabric contrasted beautifully against his skin, sharp angles and broad shoulders making the outfit look like it was made for him.

He looked... good.

Really good.

I paused for a second longer than I should’ve, then pretended I hadn’t.

"Wow," I said, forcing my voice to sound casual. "So the clothes actually fit."

He glanced at me — and then he smiled.

Not his usual polite smile.

Not the stiff, soldier one.

A real one.

"They do," he murmured, smoothing a hand over the fabric. "Thanks for helping me choose."

I shrugged, trying not to reveal how weirdly proud that made me feel.

"My efforts were fruitful," I said lightly, stepping further into the room. "At least now you don’t look like you’re on your way to arrest everyone."

He huffed a quiet laugh.

"You liked the old clothes?" he asked.

"No," I said instantly, too fast.

He lifted a brow in amusement.

I cleared my throat.

"I mean — they were fine. Just... military. Very military."

Alexander tilted his head, eyes flicking over me in a way that made me suddenly aware of every part of my body.

"You look good," he said simply.

My brain short-circuited.

"Oh."

Smooth, Charles. Amazing.

He looked away politely, like he knew I’d combust otherwise, and grabbed his jacket.

"What do you want for dinner?" Alexander asked.

"I don’t know," I muttered, flopping back onto the bed like my bones had given up.

The mattress dipped under me, comforting and warm, and my eyes drifted toward the lamp we bought earlier.

It glowed softly in the corner — warm yellow, a little crooked, cute in a way that made me feel... peaceful.

I smiled at it.

Pretty lamp.

Then my gaze shifted back to Alexander, still standing near the closet, adjusting the sleeves of the new shirt we picked out. The fabric hugged his frame just right, dark against his skin, impossibly flattering.

The thought slipped out of my mouth before my brain had the chance to strangle it:

"...Did you wear these for me? You look like an eye candy."

Silence.

Then a soft, low chuckle.

My heart stopped.

Alexander looked over his shoulder at me, eyes warm — amused, but not mocking. "Eye candy, hm?"

Heat hit my face so fast I thought I might combust.

"Did I—" I swallowed, voice shrinking. "Did I say that out loud?"

He took a few steps closer, slow and unhurried, the kind of walk that made the room feel smaller.

"Yes," he said gently, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You did."

I covered my face with both hands.

"Oh my God."

His laughter was quiet, deep, the kind that vibrated more than echoed.

I felt the bed dip beside me as he sat down, close enough that the mattress tilted slightly toward his weight.

"You don’t need to hide," he said, voice warm, calm. "It was... flattering."

"Was it?" I peeked through my fingers.

"It was," he confirmed. "And... accurate, apparently."

I groaned. "Please stop."

He didn’t.

He just smiled — not teasing anymore, just soft.

"You’re honest when you’re tired," he said quietly. "I like that."

My heart stuttered.

And suddenly dinner didn’t matter.

What mattered was that Alexander was close enough for me to feel the heat of him, close enough that my breath caught, close enough that if I leaned even a little—

No.

No, no, no.

Focus on the lamp. Think about the lamp.

I stared hard at it.

Pretty lamp.

Really pretty.

But not half as distracting as him.

The doorbell kept ringing—sharp, insistent.

Not the kind of knock you ignore. Not the kind someone friendly makes.

"I’ll get it," I said, already sliding off the bed.

Alexander was beside me before I even reached the hallway, his hand hovering near my back like he was ready to pull me behind him.

"You don’t have to follow me everywhere," I muttered.

"I’m not letting you open a door alone at night," he said, voice low, controlled—but his eyes were sharper than usual, like something was already setting his instincts off.

I reached for the knob.

He caught my wrist.

"Wait."

His grip wasn’t tight, but it froze me.

He tilted his head slightly, listening—really listening.

The bell stopped.

Silence.

Then a single knock.

Slow.

Measured.

Like whoever was behind the door knew exactly how unsettling that rhythm was.

Alexander’s voice dropped to a whisper.

"Step back."

I did—because for the first time since I met him...

Alexander looked afraid.

He unlocked the door—not fully, just a crack—and the moment the gap opened, cold air rushed in, carrying something metallic. Like iron. Like—

Blood.

Alexander slammed the door shut, breath shaking for half a second before he swallowed it down.

"What—what was that?" I whispered.

He didn’t look at me.

He was staring at the door like whatever stood behind it wasn’t just a person.

"Why shut the door?" a voice answered from behind Alexander—calm, cold, and painfully familiar.

My breath hitched.

That voice didn’t belong in this hallway.

Not here.

Not like this.

"I’m here for my little brother," he continued, stepping into the doorway as Alexander reluctantly opened it wider. "Mom misses him."

Louis.

"Louis!!!" I yelled, stumbling forward before I even realized I had moved.

My heart skipped, then stuttered.

Because the person standing there looked like Louis... but didn’t feel like him.

His hair—once honey-blond—now fell in icy silver waves with streaks of black sliding through like shadows trying to crawl out.

He wore a dark formal coat, tailored too sharply for someone who used to forget to iron his shirts.

His eyes were the worst part.

Not angry.

Not relieved.

Not excited to see me.

Just... assessing.

Like he was checking an item off a list.

"Charles," he said, voice neutral, polite, unfamiliar.

He didn’t hug me.

Didn’t even reach for me.

Behind me, Alexander stiffened, shoulders rising like hackles on an animal.

Louis’s gaze flicked to him—slow, deliberate.

"So you’re the one keeping him," Louis said softly, almost kindly.

But his smile never reached his eyes.

Alexander stepped forward just enough to stand between us, his arm brushing mine.

"Charles isn’t going anywhere with you," Alexander said quietly.

Louis chuckled, but it wasn’t the warm laugh I knew.

It was soft... surgical.

"Is that so," he said, tilting his head. "Charles, you didn’t tell him."

"Tell him what?" Alexander asked, his eyes narrowing.

Louis finally looked at me—really looked—and for a moment, it was like something behind those new silver eyes reached out and tugged at my chest.

"Alexander, thank you for taking care of my mate." He said smiling, his smile was so bright some what deadly.

Alexander stepped in front of me so fast I barely saw him move. His posture wasn’t defensive—it was lethal. Quiet lethal, the kind that meant don’t you dare.

"What did you just call him?" Alexander asked, voice low, edged with something far older and darker than anger.

Louis’s smile only brightened.

Too bright.

Too sharp.

Like he had learned how to smile from someone who didn’t understand emotions but understood how to mimic them.

"I said," Louis repeated, eyes locking onto Alexander’s with unsettling calm,

"thank you for taking care of my mate."

My chest tightened.

I wanted to speak—explain everything—but my thoughts were tangled like my tongue had been sewn shut.

Louis continued, voice light and almost friendly:

"You’ve done a decent job. Better than I expected from someone like you." He said.

I felt their pheromones clash, wild powerful possessive, I wasn’t a weak omega and I felt somewhat offended.