The soft hum of the city greeted Mia as she stepped out of her cab and walked into the tall glass building that housed Ryan's company. She clutched her handbag a little tighter. Yesterday had been exhausting, but she had managed to get through it. Today, she had to prove to herself—and to Ryan—that she could handle it again.
"Good morning, Miss Mia," the receptionist greeted warmly as she walked in. "Mr. Ryan hasn't returned yet, so the staff is looking to you for direction."
Mia forced a smile and nodded. "Then let's get to work."
She entered Ryan's office, still slightly overwhelmed by its grandness—the wide desk, the city view, the shelves lined with books and files. Sitting down, she pulled out her notebook and reviewed the schedule the secretary had placed on the desk. Three meetings before noon, another one with the board in the afternoon.
"Breathe, Mia," she whispered to herself, steadying her nerves.
The first meeting began promptly at nine. The operations team presented reports on production delays. At first, Mia listened quietly, scribbling notes. Then one of the managers said something about "waiting for Mr. Ryan's final approval," and Mia straightened in her chair.
"No," she said softly but firmly. "We can't wait. If we delay further, it will cost us. Adjust the schedule, work overtime if needed. Make sure deliveries stay on track."
The room fell silent for a moment, then the manager nodded, respect flickering in his eyes. "Yes, Miss Mia. We'll get it done."
By the second meeting with the human resources department, Mia felt her confidence rising. They discussed employee complaints, and she suggested new ways to improve communication. Her calm, empathetic voice soothed even the most nervous staff.
"You actually listened to us," one of the HR officers said quietly as the meeting ended. "Thank you, Miss Mia."
Mia smiled, though her heart ached a little. If only Ryan were here to see this.
...
Meanwhile, deep in the forest, Ryan stood in the pack's council hall, his expression sharp and unreadable. His Beta, Luke, spoke urgently.
"Alpha, the rogues are regrouping. Scouts report unusual activity near the southern border."
Ryan's jaw tightened. "Strengthen patrols. No one rests until the borders are secure."
Another elder spoke. "Alpha, supplies are running low. The sickness in the clinic has drained resources—"
"Then divert more," Ryan snapped, then softened his tone. "Take care of the sick first. The pack survives together or not at all."
The warriors bowed, but Ryan's mind drifted. He could almost picture Mia now, sitting behind his desk, her brows furrowed as she read through files. She didn't know he was fighting for lives while she fought to keep his company running.
He longed to call her, just to hear her voice. But what could he say? That he had left her to manage a billion-dollar company while he shifted into a wolf to battle rogues? No. She couldn't know—not yet.
...
Back at the office, Mia's last meeting before lunch was with the board of directors. They were older, stern, and not easily impressed.
"Where is Ryan?" one asked bluntly as they all settled in.
"He's away on urgent business," Mia replied smoothly, keeping her tone professional. "In the meantime, I'll be handling operations."
The board exchanged glances, skeptical.
But as the meeting went on, Mia held her ground. She asked smart questions, proposed solutions, and listened carefully before giving her opinions. By the end, even the most doubtful member nodded in approval.
"You're doing well, Miss Mia," one of them admitted. "Perhaps Ryan made the right choice leaving things in your hands."
When the meeting ended, Mia leaned back in her chair, letting out a long breath. Her hands trembled slightly under the table. She was proud—but she also felt the weight of being alone.
She picked up her phone, staring at the blank screen. No call. No message. Nothing from Ryan.
"Where are you, Ryan?" she whispered.
...
At that exact moment, Ryan stood at the edge of the forest, his clothes torn from shifting, his body aching from battle. He wiped the blood from his hands, both his own and that of his enemies, and looked up at the sky.
"Mia…" he murmured, his heart heavy. He wanted to run to her, to tell her everything. But the world he lived in—the one of teeth, claws, and blood—was not the world she knew.
So, for now, he remained in the shadows, while she carried the light of his other path.