Chapter 25 Chapter 25
For almost a week, Zarlia hadn’t been herself.
The house that once felt like a quiet refuge now carried a haunting stillness. Stetson had insisted she stay home while he handled things at the office—“You need rest,” he’d said—but rest was the last thing her mind could give her.
So she read.
Every day, she’d sit by the living room window, sifting through envelopes stacked neatly on the table—letters addressed to Stetson Dragunov.
Some were affectionate, carrying the warmth of loyalty:
Alpha, when will you return? The clan grows restless without your leadership.
Others were colder, demanding:
Have you found your Luna yet? Or have you forsaken us completely?
And then there were those that felt like daggers disguised as words—reminders of the world Stetson left behind, and the weight he still carried on his shoulders.
But one letter was different.
It was in a white envelope, written in delicate cursive. The moment she opened it; the faint scent of lavender filled the air.
Stetson,
Your sister is missing. Your father has sent wolves to hunt her down.What we feared is happening, soon Viktor will take over. You never should have left. The clan is breaking and people are being prosecuted for change. Please, my son, you’re needed now more than ever.
I need you; your father needs you; your sister needs you. She’s in danger. The clan needs you.
—Mother
Zarlia’s heart clenched. Her fingers trembled as she reread the words, the ink smudging slightly beneath her touch. His own father… hunting his daughter? The idea tore through her chest like glass.
Things were getting more complicated by the minute and Stetson knew nothing about it—he refused to, which made her wonder why he doesn’t want to get involved in his clan anymore.
She didn’t hear the door until she heard the click.
Her instincts kicked in—she stuffed the letters beneath a throw pillow and quickly composed herself.
When she stepped into the hallway, she found Stetson and Luke standing near the kitchen, voices low and tense. The air between them was heavy. But the moment Stetson saw her, the atmosphere shifted.
“Why’re you both home early?” she asked softly.
Luke gave a small, polite nod. “Just… wrapping things up, ma’am.” Zarlia immediately raised a brow, since when does Luke refer to her as ‘Ma’am’. Something was going on.
Stetson’s expression was unreadable. “We’re going on a trip.”Sometimes she couldn’t keep up with how her boyfriend thought.
Her brows furrowed. “A trip? Where?”
He crossed his arms, lips twitching at the corner. “That’s a surprise. Just… pack a bag. Something light.”
Before she could respond, a deep, familiar growl echoed inside her mind.
“It’s a beach house”, Asher said lazily, his tone a mix of pride and mischief. “He bought it a while ago. Somewhere quiet. Montauk.”
Zarlia blinked, almost smiling. “He’s going to be mad at you for ruining the surprise,” she whispered in her mind.
Asher chuckled, his voice velvet and dangerous. “Then take the punishment gracefully, kitten. Oh—and don’t forget that lingerie you bought”.
Her face flushed instantly. She bit her lip to stop her fluster but the crimson on her cheek was only spreading. “Okay,” she finally managed to say aloud, her voice a touch higher than normal.
Stetson glanced at her but said nothing, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips told her he’d sensed something.
She hurried upstairs to pack—her hands shaking as she folded her clothes, her thoughts torn between the letter hidden beneath the pillow and the man who had unknowingly built a wall around his pain.
When she came back down, Stetson was waiting by the car, sleeves rolled up, loading the trunk. The late afternoon light hit his face in a way that made him look almost human—less the fierce Alpha, more the man who had held her while she broke apart.Sometimes it seemed like she forgot he was half a beast.
As he helped her with her luggage, she couldn’t ignore the heavy ache gnawing in her chest. His non-involvement with the pack—it was tearing them apart. And now, she knew how bad things truly were.
She swallowed hard. “Asher,” she called inwardly, her voice soft.
The wolf’s reply came immediately, smooth and teasing. “Look who’s curious again”. She could almost see the smirk on his face.
“Don’t start,” she warned, her pulse quickening. “Can you… can you read my thoughts?”
“Every single one”, he purred. “Even the ones you hide under that pretty blush. Who knew our innocent kitten had such dirty thoughts”, his cold breath ghosted her skin sending a shiver down her spine. “Say the word and those things wouldn’t be just thoughts”.
“Shut up!” she blurted before she could stop herself.
Stetson’s head turned sharply, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“It’s nothing,” she said too quickly, forcing a laugh. “Just… thinking out loud.”
His gaze lingered on her a second longer, as if he didn’t believe her, but he said nothing and turned back to the road.
She exhaled shakily and turned back inward. “Quit the teasing. Tell me—what were you and Stetson talking about earlier?”
Silence filled her head for a moment before Asher’s voice softened. “You really want to know, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“He buried your grandmother, the wolf finally said. Your family left her body in a morgue. He handled everything himself. Paid for the funeral. Blacklisted your father’s business.”
Zarlia froze.
Her eyes widened, turning slowly toward the man beside her. He was driving calmly, expression distant, eyes fixed on the road ahead. But now she saw the quiet tension in his jaw, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel.
Her throat tightened. He had done all that for her—and hadn’t said a word.
Outside, the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, painting the world in shades of gold and rose. But all she could see was him—this infuriating, guarded, impossibly selfless man—and the ache in her chest grew unbearable.
She turned away to hide the tears pooling in her eyes.
Stetson glanced at her then, his voice low, unreadable. “Seatbelt on, Luna. It’s going to be a long drive.”
Zarlia nodded silently, her hand trembling as she buckled the strap.
She didn’t speak again for a long time. But inside, her heart whispered words she couldn’t say aloud.
By the time they arrived, the moon had climbed high over the water, its silver glow spilling across the quiet road. Stetson parked the car in front of a pale, sand-coloured beach house tucked behind a row of palms. The sea hummed faintly in the background, a rhythm that felt like it belonged to another world.
Zarlia stepped out of the car, eyes wide as she took in the small house before them. It was cute—almost cozy—with soft amber lights glowing through the curtains. Seashells lined the porch rail, and the faint scent of salt and sun-bleached wood filled the air.
Stetson opened the trunk and began pulling out their bags. “It’s not much,” he said quietly, though there was a hint of pride in his tone, “but it’s private.”
“It’s perfect,” she said softly, trailing behind him as he unlocked the door.
Inside, the place was simple but warm—wooden floors, cream walls, and touches of blue everywhere. It was exactly what a beach house should look like: calm and peaceful.
She walked through the small living room, brushing her fingers along the arm of the sofa, peeking into the open kitchen. “How long are we staying?” she asked.
“Three days,” he replied. Her lips curved into a small smile. “Three days by the beach with you… sounds nice.”
He didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he’d heard more in her words than she meant to say.
“It’s late,” he said instead. “We’ll go to the beach tomorrow.”She nodded. “Okay.”
Then she realized something—there was only one bedroom. And one bathroom. Her heartbeat quickened. “There’s… just one bed,” she murmured, glancing at him.
Stetson looked entirely unfazed. “I’ll take the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”
“No! I mean—it’s fine,” she said too quickly, then coughed to cover it up. “I, um, I’ll shower first.” Before he could reply, she darted into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
The water felt warm against her skin, but her mind was anything but calm. Her pulse raced, her thoughts tangled with memories of his voice, his hands, his steady gaze. Why does he always make my heart go crazy?
When she finished, she wrapped herself in a bathrobe and stepped out, relieved to find the room empty. She began changing quickly, humming under her breath—until the door creaked open.
Stetson froze in the doorway.
Her breath caught.
For one suspended second his eyes met her bare back, she only wore a brown lace underwear, his eyes flashing with the briefest flicker of heat before he turned sharply and shut the door behind him.
“Smooth, Alpha”, Asher taunted in his head. “Real smooth.”
“Shut it,” Stetson muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he walked down the hall. His mind trying to erase the image he saw but instead he felt uncomfortable in his own pants—he could already tell that the next three days would be nothing but torture.
When Zarlia finally emerged, fully dressed, she found him in the kitchen.
He was cooking. Or at least… trying to.
The sight made her blink. Stetson West—the same man who barked orders like commands from heaven—was standing over a pot with a cookbook open in front of him and a phone propped up on a stand, watching a video tutorial with intense focus.
She bit back a laugh and took a seat at the counter. “Didn’t think you knew how to cook.”
“I don’t,” he said without looking at her. “But I can follow instructions.”
She smiled, resting her chin on her hand as she watched him chop vegetables with military precision. Every few seconds, he’d glance at the phone, then back at the pan like it had personally offended him.
He could feel her eyes on him but didn’t dare meet her gaze.Sometimes she wanted to hug him tight and never let go.
Her lips parted as if to say something, but instead, she reached for a can of beer and opened it with a click.
Stetson turned immediately. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t drink that.”
She took a defiant sip. “Why not?”
He walked over and plucked the can from her hand with one smooth motion. “Because it won’t make you feel better.” Like he knew what was making her uneasy, if he really knew then he wouldn’t be standing there but throwing her over his shoulder.
Her jaw tensed, but she didn’t argue. Not this time.
Dinner was quiet. He served two plates—pasta that was slightly overcooked and sauce that was a little too salty—but she ate every bite anyway, forcing herself to smile each time he glanced her way.
When she caught him watching her once, she said gently, “It’s really good.” He didn’t respond, just gave a small nod and continued eating. But deep down, the faintest trace of warmth unfurled in his chest.
Afterward, Stetson stood and gathered the plates, but she stopped him. “I’ll wash. You should shower.”
He hesitated for a second, studying her face—the exhaustion, the sadness still faint in her eyes—but finally nodded and headed toward the bathroom.
Zarlia turned to the sink, the sound of water running mixing with the faint crash of waves outside. She washed each dish slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of each plate as her thoughts drifted to the letter still hidden back home.
He buried Grandma.
He blacklisted my father’s company.
He’d done it all silently—no words, no credit. Just quiet, unspoken care.