Bruce's POV

I don’t like this.

I don’t like this one bit.

From the moment I step into the bookstore, I know something is off. It’s in the air, in the way the lights seem too dim, in the way the dust hangs motionless, like even the air is holding its breath. Something happened here. Something they’re not saying.

The silence is deafening.

My instincts prickle. Every single person in this room is acting weird.

Max is too still. That alone tells me something is wrong. Max, the same guy who can’t stand still for five seconds, is now standing there like a statue, his posture too stiff, his expression locked down. His hand is jammed in his pocket, gripping something tight, like it’s a lifeline or a weapon.

I step forward, and his eyes snap to me.

Wide. Alarmed.

Max is scared.

I barely have time to process that before my gaze shifts to Amina.

She looks calm—but only on the surface. I know her too well. The way she’s gripping that book, the pages slightly bent under her fingers, tells me everything. She’s holding back. Ready.

Then there’s Elias.

Composed. Too composed.

Elias is trying too hard. His body is relaxed, but the tension is in his jaw, in his fingers that twitch ever so slightly before stilling again. Elias controls everything—his words, his movements, his emotions. But right now?

Something is cracking.

I don’t even know what it is yet, but I can feel it.

I flick my gaze to Rayhan.

His foot taps once against the floor—then stops, like he’s just realized he did it. Rayhan never fidgets. Not unless something is really wrong. His hands clench at his sides before he exhales, trying to appear casual. But his gaze keeps flickering between Max and Elias.

That’s when I realize—they know something.

Something they’re not saying.

Sophie is standing next to Zach, but her arms are crossed too tightly, fingers gripping her sleeves. Her body is tense, and her gaze keeps darting between everyone, but she keeps looking at Zach. Like she’s waiting for him to say something.

And Zach?

Zach is watching.

Unlike the others, he’s not tense. He’s not stiff. But he’s aware. His gaze flicks between them all, absorbing every single detail. He’s always been like this—silent, observing, waiting for the right moment to speak. And that moment hasn’t come yet.

It feels like I walked into a crime scene where the body hasn’t been found yet.

A deep unease settles in my stomach.

“…Alright,” I say, keeping my voice even. “What the hell happened before I got here?”

No one speaks.

No one even breathes.

The silence stretches.

I hear the faintest sound—the shuffle of Max’s shoe against the floor. It shouldn’t mean anything. But it does.

Because Max doesn’t move unless he’s uncomfortable.

I narrow my eyes.

My first instinct is to press him—but then I see Elias.

He’s watching me.

Not like Zach, not like an observer taking in details. No—Elias is studying me.

Calculating. Waiting.

And for the first time, I see it.

His stillness—it’s not just control. It’s restraint.

Elias is holding something back.

His grip on himself is so tight, so controlled, that it makes my skin crawl. Because it’s not the usual ‘I’m in charge’ control that Elias thrives on. No. This is different. This is a man who is actively losing control.

And he hates it.

He hates it.

I shift slightly, and Max flinches. It’s small. Barely there. But I catch it.

Max is scared.

And now I know—it’s because of whatever the hell just happened with Elias.

But that’s not even the worst part.

I look at Elias again.

And he’s smiling.

It’s not big. It’s not obvious. It’s the kind of smile that’s barely there, just enough to send a shiver down my spine.

That’s when I realize something.

Max isn’t just scared.

He’s scared of Elias.