Alpha Derrick stepped into his home, the weight of the night's events pressing down on him like an iron shackle.
The grand living room, usually a place of peace and luxury, felt suffocating tonight.
Mona was seated on her favorite velvet chair, her posture poised but her gaze sharp.
Her lips curled into a faint smile that did not reach her eyes as she watched her husband enter.
"Derrick," she began, her voice sweet but laced with mockery, "back so soon? Or are you just avoiding me altogether now?"
He stopped midway into the room and offered a brief, cold nod. "Good evening, Mona." His tone was distant, devoid of its usual warmth.
Mona's eyes narrowed. "O' great Alpha Derrick," she mocked, her voice rising, "has it become too much trouble for you to spend even a few minutes with your wife?
Or is there something more pressing on your mind than your own household?"
