The Alpha's claim

🌷 CHAPTER 15 🌷

"If I could turn back the hands of time to when I was yours and you were mine."
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The corridors of the mansion lay shrouded in dim golden light, the silence of night interrupted only by the soft click of polished shoes against marble. Zhan walked with purpose, as always-measured, controlled, untouchable.

His coat hung loosely from his shoulders, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding a file he hadn't opened all evening. His mind wasn't on work. It hadn't been for days. Maybe longer.

As he reached the west wing, a familiar presence stepped out from the shadows.

"Ziyi," he acknowledged flatly, not stopping, not even turning his head.

The woman gave a sharp nod, ever composed. She was taller than most Omegas, eyes cold, stance firm-a soldier first, sister second. She matched her master in restraint and precision.

But this time, there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

"Master," she said finally, her voice low but steady. "Young master is asleep in your room again. I didn't want to disturb, but... I will have Yubin arrange a different room for him immediately."

Zhan stopped walking.

It was brief. Barely a second. But enough for Ziyi to straighten unconsciously, sensing a shift.

The moment passed. He didn't turn around, didn't raise his voice.

"No need," he said simply. "He will stay in his room."

Ziyi blinked. She knew what that room meant. No one-no one-was allowed inside it without permission. Not staff. Not family. Not even her. She had seen Omegas escorted out just for stepping too close to that door. The idea of someone not only entering, but sleeping there... was unthinkable.

And yet-

Zhan resumed walking, the matter closed.

Ziyi remained frozen for a beat longer, her gaze trailing after him. For the first time since she'd started serving under him, she was uncertain.

Was he changing? Or was something more dangerous at play?

The soft creak of the door broke the silence.

Zhan stepped into his room, the weight of the day lingering in his shoulders. It was already past midnight. The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting silver shadows across the polished floor. A subtle chill hung in the air, but the warmth of the room's heart lay curled under his sheets.

There he was-Wang Yibo, sleeping in his bed.

Zhan's gaze fell upon the small, resting figure, delicate yet so unknowingly defiant. The Omega's breathing was even, his lashes resting gently against pale cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly in sleep. Hair tousled over the pillow, body turned slightly toward the place Zhan usually slept-soft, trusting, vulnerable.

Zhan said nothing. He didn't need to. He walked silently across the room, unfastening his coat with one hand and tossing it onto the couch. His movements were precise, but slower than usual-measured not by discipline this time, but by something quieter. Something unnameable.

Instead of approaching the bed, he sat on the couch near it.

And just watched.

He didn't know how long he sat there, only that he couldn't look away.

For a man like Zhan, silence was often used as a weapon. He wielded it to intimidate, to assert control without lifting a finger. But tonight, it wrapped around him differently. It wasn't silence he controlled-it was silence that held him.