Ryley's jaw clenched. He knew that.
He felt it every time someone looked at him like a threat dressed in silk.
But this wasn't about pride or power.
He tried to stand tall, to look Madam Beckett in the eye—but the weight of the moment pulled him down.
His shoulders fell as he took a step forward, his voice dropping, rough with emotion.
"Please. I'm not here to push my luck. I just… I just want to see her. One glimpse, one moment. To know she's alright with my own eyes."
Madam Beckett didn't answer immediately. She stood in still silence, gaze locked onto him like a hawk gauging whether the creature before her was a threat—or something broken.
"I know you're the one protecting her now," Ryley continued, his voice growing quieter. "And I respect that. I do. But… she's all I have. She's the only thing left keeping me together."
His breath hitched as he glanced at Clyde — unmoving, cold beneath the dim lights — and the words caught like splinters in his throat.
