She turned to Alaric, prompting him for the passcode. They tried his birthday, mine, even the day we first claimed each other under the full moon—but the device stayed locked. Alaric’s patience snapped. He yanked the communicator from her hands and barked at the security wolves to restrain me.
He attempted the facial recognition feature—but multiple failures forced the system to default to passcode entry.
“What is the password?” he demanded, voice like a growl.
Since the day we bonded, the passcode had always been the date he first admitted his feelings. I could almost smirk at the irony—he had forgotten. Not surprising.
Failing to access my device before his pack only fueled his humiliation. His pride crumbled, his face darkening with a storm of rage, every second deepening his fury.
“You keep insisting the photos were a misunderstanding—so why change your password?” he spat, the accusation heavy with irritation.
“It’s the date you first confessed to me,” I said calmly.
Alaric froze, struggling to remember that moment. His expression twisted, a chaotic swirl of confusion, anger, and something dangerously close to regret—a ruined masterpiece of emotion.