Opal's POV
The sleek black SUV rolled up in front of Kael's packhouse, its headlights piercing through the early morning mist like a predator's gaze. Even before the car came to a full stop, Opal could feel the storm brewing inside it.
Ash.
His rage simmered beneath the surface, sharp and suffocating, pressing against her like a physical force.
The door swung open with too much force, slamming against its hinges, and there he was—her overprotective, perpetually furious brother.
Arms crossed. Jaw locked. Silver eyes burning like molten steel.
Opal smirked. "Miss me?"
Ash's fingers flexed against the car door, his knuckles turning white, like he was physically restraining himself from dragging her into the backseat.
Kael, standing beside her, exhaled through his nose, arms loose at his sides—unbothered. "Try not to kill each other before breakfast."
Ash's glare snapped to him, sharp as a blade. "I don't take orders from you."
