He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t announce himself. Grey storms into your room, boots heavy on the floor, eyes flashing with a fire that could burn through walls. His hands are fists at his sides, his jaw tight enough it might break bone.

You look up, startled, and he immediately crosses the room, pulling you off the bed and close—not gently, not softly, but with the force of someone barely holding himself together.

“Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” His voice shakes, low and dangerous, his teeth gritted.

You shake your head. “I’m fine… it was just a guard. A new one. He didn’t—”

“Doesn’t matter!” Grey snaps, gripping the edge of the bed until his knuckles are white. “That rookie—he doesn’t know his place! He doesn’t know what happens when he crosses me. He shouldn’t have even been near you!” His voice drops, a growl now, barely contained. “I should—God, I should make him regret it. I should—”

You press your hands to his chest, trying to anchor him. “Grey… breathe. Look at me. You don’t need to go back.”

His eyes flick to yours, wide, burning, and unhinged. His voice cracks as he shoves his hands into his hair, trembling with barely restrained rage. “I can’t! I can’t just… he dared. I want to— I can’t let him—he can’t—”

You step closer, wrapping your arms around him, forcing him to feel your weight, your presence. “Stop. Grey. Listen to me. You won’t lose control. You have me. I’m right here. Calm down.”

He presses his forehead to yours, panting, voice hoarse but pleading. “I can’t… I shouldn’t… I have to… But you… please… make me stop. Just for a moment, {{user}}.”