Chapter 31 Chapter 31
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
“Zarlia?” Stetson’s voice echoed through the empty living room. He set down his keys, the faint click sounding louder than it should have. The place smelled faintly of her perfume — jasmine and sea salt — but there was no sign of her.
He had decided to stop by the office after his discussion with Luke, he didn’t bother to inform her because he thought she was still asleep. He didn’t plan to stay this long at the office but he had matter to attend to.
He walked through the rooms, checking each one carefully: the kitchen, the balcony, the garden where she liked to sit in the mornings. Nothing.
A flicker of unease crawled through his chest. “Zarlia?” he called again, louder this time.
No answer.
He tried her phone. Straight to voicemail. He tried again. Still nothing. On the third attempt, a hollow beep told him what he didn’t want to believe — he’d been blocked.
He froze. His heartbeat quickened. “What the hell…”
Something caught his eye — a sheet of paper sitting on the nightstand beside his bed. His name wasn’t written on it, but he knew it was meant for him. He reached for it, recognizing the familiar handwriting instantly.
It wasn’t a letter.
It was a drawing.
A big, bold middle finger drawn in black ink — and right beneath it, in her handwriting, the words:
“Fuck you, asshole.”
For a long moment, he just stared.
He blinked. Once. Twice. His jaw clenched.
“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” he muttered under his breath.
He turned the paper over — and then his stomach dropped. It was written on the back of the same letter his pack had sent him. The one Luke had brought that morning.
His heart stuttered. “Shit.”
She’d read it.
No wonder she was angry. He could already picture her — hurt, furious, packing up in silence. The thought made his chest tighten. “Damn it, Zarlia.”
He grabbed his jacket and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
He searched everywhere — down the streets, near the park, at the edge of town. He even went to a small motel he spotted along the street, maybe she was there. Nothing.
She was gone.
Everywhere he went, he caught traces of her scent — faint, fading — like she was close but slipping further away each second.
He ran his hands through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath his skin. He wasn’t used to this — to panic, to confusion. Usually, he knew exactly what to do. But not with her.
When he finally gave up and drove back to their house, night had already fallen. He stepped inside, his body tense, his eyes burning from exhaustion.
“Mimi?” he called out. He smelt a familiar scent, one that had so many childhood memories attached to it—and then Zarlia’s too.
“Kitchen,” came the reply.
He walked in to find her sitting on the counter, eating chips straight from the bag, her silver hair glinting under the light.
“You’re back,” she said casually, drowning a can of coke
“Where is she?” Stetson asked immediately and Mimi blinked, then frowned. “Who, your girlfriend? So much for a big welcome”
“Yes, my girlfriend,” he snapped. “You saw her?”
“Yeah,” Mimi said, munching on her chips. “She left. About… three hours ago.” Stetson froze mid-step. “What?”
“She packed a bag,” Mimi said simply, as if it wasn’t world-ending news. “Said she was leaving. Didn’t say where.”
He stared at her, his hands curling into fists. “And you didn’t think to stop her?”
A part of him panicked and not just because Asher was restless. He didn’t want to let her go, not yet, somehow her absence left him empty and hallow.
Mimi raised a brow. “She’s a grown woman, Stetson. And you’re not exactly giving her reasons to stay.”
She remembers what type of man her brother was. He had never been a lady’s man; he knew nothing about relationship and women—he is the most clueless person she’d ever met.
He glared at her. “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Mimi shot back, sliding off the counter. “She looked heartbroken, by the way. Whatever you did, you messed up big.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he argued.
“Exactly,” she said sharply. “You didn’t. And that’s the problem.”
He turned away, running a hand over his face. His mind was racing — the note, the letter, the conversation with Luke. Did she hear them talking? His stomach twisted. The timing… it made sense.
“She heard us,” he muttered under his breath.
Mimi tilted her head. “Heard what?”
He didn’t answer. His silence was enough.
Mimi sighed. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be this big, bad alpha, you’re really clueless when it comes to feelings.”
He didn’t respond. His mind was a blur of regret and anger — not at her, but at himself. She’d left because she thought she wasn’t enough. Because she’d heard words never meant for her.
And now she was out there — alone.
Stetson grabbed his car keys again. “Where are you going?” Mimi asked, crossing her arms.
“To find her.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Yes.”
Mimi shook her head. “You won’t find her if she doesn’t want to be found. You should know that.”
He paused at the door, his jaw tightening. “Then I’ll search until I do.” His grip on the door tightened, “And when I get back, we’ll talk about what happened with you”
Mimi’s voice softened. “Stetson.”
He turned to her, and for the first time, she saw the panic behind his eyes — the kind he couldn’t hide.
“She means something to you, doesn’t she?” she asked quietly.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Mimi sighed, walking closer. “Then don’t waste time standing here. Go.”
He gave a brief nod, then left, the door slamming shut behind him.
Mimi stood there, her eyes on the spot he’d just been, her expression unreadable. She picked up the paper he’d left on the table — the one with Zarlia’s doodle — and couldn’t help but laugh softly.
“Damn,” she whispered. “She’s got spirit. I like her.”
Her smile faded as she looked toward the window, the night swallowing everything beyond. “You better find her, brother,” she murmured, “because if you don’t… someone else will.”