A deep frown settled on Tryson's face as he winced, his hand instinctively reaching up to his temple.
A sharp, unrelenting pounding throbbed inside his skull, sending a strange, disorienting sensation through him. His jaw tightened as a low, guttural growl escaped his lips, frustration mixing with confusion.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice softer than expected, laced with both suspicion and discomfort.
Riley stood before him, her lips momentarily curving into a sly smile, though something about his reaction made her pause.
A flicker of intrigue danced in her eyes before she masked it with feigned concern. Tilting her head slightly, she stepped closer, her fingertips brushing gently against his cheek as she cupped his face, locking eyes with him.
"Tryson, there's no need to worry," she murmured, her voice smooth, almost hypnotic. "You can rest assured that everything is going to be just fine."
But Tryson didn't relax.
