There, amidst the brewing gloom, Clyde stood beneath the drooping boughs, closing the lid of a jar filled with faintly glowing fireflies.
When he noticed Ryley, the Alpha's expression softened, a rare gentleness threading through his features.
"Ryley," he called, voice magnetic yet soothing, "come here."
The lump in Ryley's throat tightened, and though his feet carried him forward, it wasn't entirely in answer to the summons—it was something else, something unnamed.
"I was just about to send someone to fetch you," Clyde said, a faint, boyish smile gracing his lips. "Look. I caught these for Rosie."
The fireflies glowed between them, but Ryley's eyes didn't reflect their light. A shadow lingered there—uncertainty, unease.
"There's… something I want to ask," he murmured, the words hesitant, almost shaking.
"Yeah?" Clyde's voice remained calm, but it had the weight of quiet expectation.
"Yeah?" Clyde's tone stayed gentle, too gentle.
