Mira’s POV_
I stood in front of the mirror, tugging at my ponytail as frustration simmered in my chest. My casual T–shirt and pants seemed appropriate enough, but it didn’t matter how I looked–I didn’t want to go.
The knock at my door came right on time, and my dad’s voice followed. “Mira, are you ready? We need to
leave soon.”
I opened the door, meeting his concerned gaze. “Dad, do I really have to go? I’m not in the mood for a dinner with the Alpha’s family.”
He frowned, stepping into my room. “Mira, I know things have been hard lately. But Alpha Roger and Luna Marinette have been so kind to us, especially after…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering with unspoken pain.
After Mom. The thought lingered between us.
“They’ve done so much for us,” he continued, his voice soft but firm. “The least we can do is show up tonight. It’s about respect.”
I sighed, crossing my arms. “I just don’t see the point. It’s not like they care if I’m there.”
Dad’s expression hardened. “You’re part of this pack, Mira. People notice these things. And besides, it’s not about them caring–it’s about us showing gratitude. Now, get ready. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
Reluctantly, I nodded, watching as he left the room. My chest tightened, a mix of guilt and irritation bubbling inside me. I didn’t want to argue with him, but I couldn’t shake the unease curling in my stomach.
The drive to the Alpha’s house was quiet, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on both of us. When we arrived, Killian was already waiting by the door, his tall frame leaning casually against the doorway.
“Mira,” he greeted, his voice warm but careful, as if testing the waters. “Mr. Reynolds.”
My dad smiled and shook his hand, but I kept my gaze on the ground, unsure of how to respond.
Inside, the house smelled of roasted herbs and spices, the inviting aroma doing little to settle my nerves. Alpha Roger was in the kitchen, helping Luna Marinette with the final preparations.
“Welcome,” Luna Marinette called out, her voice cheerful as she balanced a tray of dishes. “Make yourselves
comfortable. Dinner is almost ready.”
Killian guided us to the living room, his hand briefly brushing against my back. “Sit here,” he said, gest the couch. “I’ll grab some drinks.”
g to
As I settled into the seat, I couldn’t help but notice how at ease Killian seemed, his movements fluid and confident. Yet, there was a softness in his eyes whenever they met mine–a stark contrast to the cold–hearted
Killian I had once known. He was being very kind to me.
He returned with ‘glasses of water and juice, setting them down on the coffee table. “Make yourselves at home,” he said, flashing a small smile before taking the chair across from me.
Luna Marinette soon appeared, ushering everyone to the dining table. The food looked exquisite, laid out in
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<Chapter 59
an array of colorful dishes that should have made my mouth water.
“Come, sit,” she encouraged, motioning for me to take a seat.
I hesitated, but Killian was already pulling out the chair next to him. “Here,” he said, his voice low as he
gestured for me to sit.
+8 Points)
Reluctantly, I sat down, keeping my hands folded in my lap. Killian took the seat beside me, his presence
warm and steady, though I avoided looking directly at him.
The conversation flowed easily among the others, with Alpha Roger and Luna Marinette asking my dad about
his work and the pack. I stayed quiet, pushing the food around on my plate, my appetite nonexistent.
Killian leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “Is the food not to your liking?”
I glanced at him, startled. His black eyes were earnest, searching mine for an answer.
“It’s fine,” I muttered, hoping he that he would drop the subject.
But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned in even closer, his tone teasing but gentle. “If you don’t like it, we can sneak
out later and grab something from your favorite restaurant. I won’t tell my mom.”
My cheeks flushed, and I quickly shook my head. “Stop,” I hissed under my breath, glancing around to see if
anyone had heard.
Killian chuckled softly, leaning back but keeping his gaze on me. “Alright, but the offer stands.”
I tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the faint hum of conversation at the table. But it wasn’t long before
Luna Marinette’s eyes landed on my barely touched plate.
“Mira,” she said kindly, her tone curious, “are you already full? Don’t you want to eat a little more?”
I froze, my cheeks burning as all eyes turned to me.
“I’ve eaten enough,” I said quickly, forcing a small smile.
Killian jumped in before anyone else could comment. “Mira’s getting bored,” he announced, pushing his chair
back with a grin. “Let me take her to watch some TV while you all finish up.”
Alpha Roger raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright. Don’t go too far, though.”
Killian didn’t wait for my response. He grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet before I could protest.
“Killian, I-”
“Come on,” he interrupted, his grip firm but not uncomfortable as he led me out of the dining room.
In the cozy living room, Killian finally released my hand, turning to face me with a smirk. “There. Crisis
averted.”
I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “You didn’t have to do that. I was fine.”
“You looked like you wanted to crawl under the table,” he countered, his tone light but his eyes serious. “I was just helping.”
I sighed, sinking into the couch. “You’re impossible.”
Killian sat down beside me, not too close but close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.”
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Maybe. But I meant what I said earlier–if you’re hungry later, just let me know.”
For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. His kindness was disarming, chipping away at the walls I had
so carefully built.
“I think about it” I said finally, my voice softer than I intended.
Killian’s smile widened, a hint of relief in his expression. “Good.”
As the faint murmur of conversation continued from the dining room, we sat in comfortable silence, the flicker of the fireplace casting soft shadows on the walls. For the first time in a long time, I felt a small,
tentative sense of peace.
But deep down, a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that this calm was only temporary–that the storm brewing on the horizon was far from over.
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