Damn him. Damn him to hell
Alfred's boots thundered down the corridor, each step fueled by rage, but beneath that — shame. A deep, gnawing shame that clawed at his insides. His hands were shaking. His breath came in short, sharp bursts.
What the hell was that? What the hell did I just let happen?
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, as if he could scrub away the taste of Elias. But it lingered — that familiar heat, that ghost of a past he'd buried beneath layers of duty and pride.
You knew better, Alfred. You always knew better.
He clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms.
He's a snake. Always has been. Always will be. And you — you let him in again. Like some lovesick fool.
The memory of Elias's lips — soft, desperate, hungry — burned in his mind. The way he'd kissed back. Gods, he hadn't just kissed back. He'd melted into it, let himself want, let himself need.
Alfred cursed under his breath, his pace quickening, like he could outrun the truth.
