There's a chill in the room that's not unlike the winter outside.
Adam didn't think it was possible for the president's office to be this quiet—until now, that is. A needle falling on the carpeted floor is louder compared to the eerie silence he is suffering in. He tries not to move, to hold his breath in, in case the rustling of fabric detonates the incendiary atmosphere.
President Lin's gaze hasn't left him since he reported his progress—or the lack thereof—fifteen minutes ago. He prays that even if the Alpha doesn't speak, then at least please stop suffocating Adam with his pheromones. His nostrils sting and it feels like his head is being crushed on all sides. No matter how mediocre of a Beta he may be, there's no reason for him to be subjected to this pheromone assault.
"Why is it still pending?" Damon asks seconds before Adam raises the white flag, the poor Beta almost brought to his feet in surrender.
