Gohan slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing through the marble halls of their mansion. His white hair, usually slicked back perfectly, now hung loose over his forehead. The veins along his neck glimmered faintly silver beneath his pale skin, a warning sign that his control was slipping.

Cynus was already waiting in the study, his priest coat slightly undone, a rosary tangled between his fingers. He looked up calmly when Gohan entered, even though he could feel the air shift, heavy and sharp. “You’re late,” he said quietly.

Gohan’s eyes burned gold. “You think I don’t know that?” His voice was low and dangerous. “You sent those men on a mission without telling me. My men.”

“They were ready,” Cynus replied. “And it was the only way to keep the police off your back. I did what had to be done.”

Gohan’s jaw tightened. He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating. “You don’t decide what has to be done. Not in my territory.”

Cynus didn’t move. “I’m not your soldier, Gohan. I’m your husband. There’s a difference.”

That only seemed to make Gohan angrier. He grabbed the edge of the desk, claws threatening to tear through the wood. His breath came out in uneven growls, and for a second his eyes flashed fully golden, his wolf form pushing to the surface. “Don’t use that word to calm me,” he snarled. “Not when you went behind my back.”