Alpha Kenzo's hand dwarfed mine, nearly twice its size, yet his grip was impossibly gentle, as though cradling something fragile. I managed an awkward smile and squeezed his hand harder, subtly trying to prove I wasn’t made of porcelain. His response was immediate—his hold shifted, firming in a way that sent an unspoken challenge while his eyes bore dangerously into mine. We stood locked in a strange, electric silence, the air thickening around us.

His thumb traced slow, deliberate ...