Irene's POV
Sunday mornings in our house were usually quiet. I liked them that way—sunlight spilling through the curtains, the hum of the city outside, and the distant clatter of Angel in the kitchen.
But this morning felt different. Last night's dinner at the Blackwoods still clung to me, like the faint scent of Mrs. Blackwood's perfume or the taste of wine I didn't actually drink but inhaled through the room's heavy air.
I stretched on the bed, my phone buzzing beside me. A text from Anna.
Anna: Soooo?? Was it a castle? Did you faint?
Elsa: Forget the house. Tell us about HIM.
Anna: Yes, shirtless pics or it didn't happen.
Me: No pics. It was just… dinner. His mom is actually nice. And his dad is… scary. I'll tell you later.
I shoved the phone aside before they bombarded me again. My head was too full to trade teases. Adrian had barely spoken during dinner, but the way his silence felt had been louder than any words.
I was still lost in that thought when Angel's voice broke in.
"Irene? You awake?"
"Yeah," I called back, dragging myself up.
She appeared at the doorway, already dressed, hair brushed neatly behind her shoulders. There was a brightness in her smile that felt… unusual. "Get ready, honey. Let's go out today. Just you and me."
"Out? Where?" I blinked.
"Anywhere. Breakfast first. Maybe a little shopping. We don't do this enough, do we?"
I almost said no—I wanted to bury myself in homework, in distraction—but the way her eyes shone stopped me. There was something fragile beneath her eagerness, like she needed this more than I did.
"Okay," I said softly. "Let me change."
---
We ended up at a small café downtown, the kind with checkered floors and the smell of fresh bread wrapping around you like a blanket. Angel ordered pancakes for both of us and extra coffee for herself.
"You know," she said, cutting into her plate with unnecessary precision, "I'm glad you're… making friends. I was worried you'd keep to yourself forever."
I smiled faintly. "They're just classmates."
Her eyes flicked up, searching mine. "And Adrian?"
Heat rushed to my face. "He's… just a project partner."
"Mm." She hummed into her coffee. The smell of it was sharp, bitter—but beneath it, I swore I caught something stronger, something that didn't belong at a café. My stomach tightened.
I pushed the thought away. Maybe I was imagining things.
After breakfast, she tugged me into a row of shops. She insisted on buying me a cardigan I didn't need, holding it up with a grin that almost made her look like the mom I remembered from before—before the nights of silence, before the half-empty bottles.
We walked through the park afterward, hands linked. For a while, it was easy to pretend everything was normal.
Until it wasn't.
A stray dog, thin and ragged, trotted across our path. At first, I thought nothing of it—until its gaze locked onto me. Its body stiffened, ears flat, teeth bared.
"Easy," I whispered, but the dog snarled, hackles rising.
Angel pulled me behind her, glaring at the animal with surprising force. "Go!" she shouted. Her voice cracked like a whip.
The dog whimpered, tail between its legs, and bolted into the trees.
I stared, heart pounding. "What was that?"
She smoothed her hair back, pretending calm. "Strays. They're unpredictable. Don't think too much of it."
But I couldn't stop thinking. Animals didn't just react like that. Not without a reason.
And as we walked back, Angel's grip on my hand stayed too tight, as if she feared I'd slip away the moment she let go.
---
Adrian's POV
The clinking of cutlery had faded, the conversation mellowed, yet my mind was anything but calm. Irene's laughter still lingered in the air, haunting me in a way I couldn't ignore. She'd looked so natural here, sitting at our table, her presence weaving itself into the fabric of my home like it had always belonged.
She does belong, my wolf said smugly, curling at the edge of my thoughts. She fits. Can't you feel it?
I tightened my grip on the armrest of my chair. No. Stop. She shouldn't be here. The closer she gets, the harder this will be.
Harder for who? You? Or the mask you keep forcing yourself to wear? my wolf pressed, voice dripping with amusement. You wanted her here as much as I did. Stop lying to yourself.
I swallowed hard, keeping my face unreadable even as the storm brewed inside me. My wolf wasn't wrong, and that truth gnawed at me. Every time she smiled, something inside me unraveled, something I couldn't afford to lose control of.
But wanting her meant risk. Wanting her meant exposing her to the parts of my world that had teeth and claws.
So I sat there in silence, wrestling between instinct and reason, desire and restraint. Outwardly calm, inwardly torn. And I knew—no matter how still I tried to deny it wanted her even closer than before.
---
Mrs. Blackwood's POV
From the second-floor balcony, I watched my son in the yard. He moved with restless precision, as if even stillness was too heavy for him.
He was changing. I saw it in the tightness of his shoulders, the sharpness of his jaw. And I saw it in the way he'd looked at that girl last night—this Irene.
Curiosity. Restraint. Hunger.
The combination worried me.
"Careful, Adrian," I whispered into the wind. "Some bonds can't be undone."
---
Mr. Blackwood's POV
My phone buzzed with another call I ignored. Pack politics could wait. My attention was here, on this house, on my family.
I trusted many things. My instincts. My strength. My legacy.
But I did not trust the girl.
One dinner was enough to tell me she was more than she appeared. And if Adrian's gaze lingered on her again, if my wife's curiosity grew, if the pack caught wind of this…
I clenched my fist.
Then I would do what was necessary.
---
Mrs. Blackwood's POV
Irene's laughter drifted through my memory again, mixing with Adrian's silence. Opposites colliding.
It had been a long time since this house had felt alive.
Too long.
I closed my eyes, wondering if life returning to these walls was a blessing… or the beginning of ruin.
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