Chapter 40 Chapter 40
Days passed, and each one felt unreal in the quietest way possible.
Zarlia kept waiting for the dream to end—for the warmth of Stetson’s presence to vanish when she woke, for the steadiness in his voice to fracture into distance or silence. But it didn’t. Morning after morning, he was still there. Still solid. Still choosing her.
He told her everything.
Not all at once—Stetson wasn’t built that way—but piece by piece, like offering something fragile and valuable into her hands. His fears. His doubts. The things he’d never said aloud because saying them made them real. And each time he spoke, Zarlia listened, not interrupting, not judging, just holding space for the parts of him no one else had ever been trusted with.
Trust, she learned, wasn’t loud.
It was quiet evenings. Shared glances. The way he reached for her without thinking.
And Mimi—Mimi became something unexpected. Not a shadow. Not a complication. But a presence that filled the spaces with laughter and chaos and warmth.
“So,” Mimi said brightly as the glass doors of the boutique slid open, sunlight spilling across polished floors and racks of expensive fabric, “what exactly are we here for?”
Zarlia looped her arm through Mimi’s and smiled sweetly. “The plan is to make Stetson broke.”
Mimi burst out laughing. “Finally. Justice.”
Inside, dresses shimmered under soft lighting. Silks. Satins. Things Zarlia had once been trained to wear like armour. Now, they felt different—lighter, playful, almost fun.
They tried everything.
A red dress Mimi swore made Zarlia look “dangerously expensive.” A flowing white one they both laughed at because it made her look like she was about to be married off to a prince she didn’t love. They danced between mirrors, spinning until they were dizzy, pretending they were different people in different lives.
At one point, Mimi stepped out in a ridiculous glittering number and struck a dramatic pose. “If I ever go missing,” she declared, “tell them I died fabulous.”
Zarlia laughed so hard she had to sit down.
Mimi was nothing like Stetson, sometimes Zarlia wondered if they were actually siblings. How she behaves—defiant and stubborn, how she dresses—crop tops and bum shorts with dark make-up, her personality an everything that makes up her person.
In the end, they didn’t choose.
They bought everything.
When they finally collapsed into their chairs at a quiet restaurant nearby, shopping bags stacked like trophies beside them, Zarlia felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.
Contentment.
They ordered food, shared bites, laughed over nothing. For a while, it was just noise and warmth and the clink of glasses.
Then Zarlia spoke.
“Mimi,” she said gently, fingers tracing the rim of her glass, “can I ask you something?”
Mimi nodded. “Of course.”
“Did you come to Stetson because you were being chased?”
The humour faded from Mimi’s expression—not abruptly, but like a tide pulling back. “Yes,” she admitted. “I didn’t really plan to tell anyone. But… yes.” She leaned back, eyes drifting to the street beyond the window. “I was doing a live blog. Talking about pack structures, power abuse, the unspoken rules. I thought if humans could know, maybe things would change.”
Zarlia frowned. “And?”
“And no one cared,” Mimi said softly. “At least not the way my father thought they would.” She swallowed. “I was walking home one night. Streaming. Talking. Laughing. Then they came out of nowhere. Three of them. Pack members. I recognized one.”
Zarlia’s hand tightened around her fork.
“I ran,” Mimi continued. “Didn’t even think. Just ran. And the only place I knew they wouldn’t follow without consequences was Stetson’s house.”
Her voice dropped. “My father hates what I’m doing. He says I’m embarrassing the system. Exposing us. But I’m not trying to destroy anything. I’m trying to make space. A new path. And the fact that the moon goddess made a human my brother’s mate is a sign”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Turns out, I’m just a disappointment.”
Zarlia reached across the table without hesitation, taking Mimi’s hand. “You’re not,” she said firmly.
Mimi looked at her, eyes glossy. “You don’t know my father.”
Zarlia squeezed her hand. “Maybe not. But I know what it feels like to be used. To be measured only by what you can provide.”
Mimi’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
Zarlia hesitated, then spoke. “All my life, I was a tool. I wasn’t loved—I was useful. A symbol. A bargaining piece. Every achievement was expected. Every failure remembered.” Her voice softened. “I was a disappointment too. Until I met your brother.”
Mimi smiled faintly. “He has that effect.”
“He does,” Zarlia agreed. “Not because he fixes things. But because he sees you. Really sees you.”
They sat there; two women bound by different wounds that somehow echoed the same pain. They didn’t say anything else. They didn’t need to. Comfort existed in the silence between them.
When they finally stood to leave, the sun had begun to dip low, painting the street in gold and shadow. The air felt heavier. Charged.
As they stepped into the driveway, Zarlia’s instincts screamed.
Three men emerged from the shadows. Black coats. Stillness. Eyes too sharp to be human. Deep grey. Every single one of them.
Mimi froze. Her hand tightened around Zarlia’s arm.
“They found me,” she hissed.
The men said nothing at first. They simply stood there, blocking the path, their presence suffocating. One of them smiled slowly, predator-like.
“Mimi,” he said calmly. “Your father wants you home.”
Zarlia stepped forward without thinking. “She’s not going anywhere.” The man’s gaze flicked to her, assessing. Dismissing. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“It concerns me,” Zarlia replied, voice steady despite the terror clawing at her ribs. Another man shifted, cracking his neck. “You’re making this difficult.”
Mimi’s voice shook, but it held. “Tell my father I said no.” The first man sighed. “You were always stubborn.” It felt like the first time they attacked her all over again, deep down she was afraid.
Zarlia felt it then. The air changed. Power coiled tight. And somewhere—far too far away—she knew Stetson would feel it tooand hopefully come before something bad happens.
The dream didn’t shatter. It sharpened and whatever came next would not be gentle.