Tristan's brow furrowed in consternation as he reached the culmination of Yves' impassioned words. His fingers, previously steady, tightened almost imperceptibly around the paper.
But as his gaze flickered from the letter to the perfume package, a sudden, chilling realization seized Tristan. His eyes widened, pupils dilating with shock and a creeping sense of dread that seemed to tighten its grip around his heart.
"Why did he suddenly want to buy this perfume package?" His voice was a raw growl, each word punctuated by a strain that bore the weight of his mounting terror. "How many packages did he buy? Tell me!" His fingers curled involuntarily into Owen's shirt, his desperation manifesting in the fierce grip, as if trying to extract answers from the very fabric. Panic churned in his gut, a relentless undertow threatening to pull him under.
