“Time’s up,” she whispered.
“I miscounted.”
The sound she made lived between a laugh and a cry. She let it exist for one beat before the armor reassembled.
I let go and stepped back. The cold rushed in but I let it because the cold was what I deserved tonight, and the warmth was what I needed to earn tomorrow.
The realization settled through me. Slow, burning, necessary. This woman had carried my grief. She’d been patient and soft and present through every stage of my breaking and I’d repaid her tonight by calling her blood the enemy.
I had so much to make up. Not just the rejection. Tonight. The cruelty. The jealousy I’d dressed up as grief. She’d beenunderstanding beyond what any reasonable person would offer three men who’d shattered her, and I was wasting that grace on a tantrum at a campfire.
Enough.
I caught her hand before she could walk away. Brought it to my mouth. Pressed my lips against her knuckles the way a knight would. My eyes lifted to meet hers and held.
“I’ll be the man you need me to be. Not because you asked. Because you shouldn’t have to.”
Her expression softened without the armor. Just Mira, looking down at a man holding her hand to his lips with a promise in his eyes.
She had the smallest smile, barely there. Gone before it fully formed.
But I caught it.
She pulled her hand free. Walked to the sleeping area without looking back.
At the entrance she paused, pulled Solomon’s jacket tighter. The collar lifted to her face. One inhale. Quick, private.
“Good night, Percy.”
“Night, love.”
My wolf’s night vision caught every frame.
She disappeared inside.
I pressed the locket against my chest and sat at the dead fire until dawn.
59
— • —
Percival
Three days in, and the alliance looked exactly as chaotic as expected.
Lycans and humans shared a camp the way cats and dogs shared a veterinary waiting room. Technically in the same space. Spiritually at war.
The converted hunters didn’t live at camp. Disappearing from the compound permanently would trigger alarms Mira’s cover couldn’t survive. Instead they rotated to train, plan, and share intel before heading back inside.
Solomon handled logistics. Lucian handled command. And I handled the part neither of them could, which was making humans stop looking at us as if we were about to eat them.
Reese was the easiest. She laughed at my jokes, which was either genuine appreciation for my humor or a survival response.
Either way, it broke the ice.
When she laughed, Damon relaxed. When Damon relaxed, the unnamed converts beside him unclenched their jaws by a fraction.
Kaia remained immune to charm. Respected that, honestly.
