Chapter 27 27
He looked at me for another long, silent moment. Then, his lips twitched. Not into a smile, but into a smirk. It was a subtle, dangerous shift in his expression.
“An Alpha’s daughter?” he repeated, his voice dripping with a skepticism that felt like a physical touch. “Really?”
I braced myself. I thought it was a rhetorical question, the setup before the knockdown. I expected him to sniff the air, to tilt his head and say, But you have no wolf scent. You’re just a human playing dress-up. He could use it to cut me down to size, to prove my claim was empty.
But he didn’t. He just kept looking at me, waiting. So I took the chance to double down, to build my flimsy wall a little higher.
“Yes,” I said, putting as much steel into my voice as I could. “I’m the daughter of a very dangerous Alpha. And you don’t want to mess with me. My father doesn’t joke when it comes to me.”
“Hm. I see.” His expression morphed, not into doubt, but into something more considering, like he was turning my words over in his mind, examining them for hidden flaws. Then he asked, cool and casual, “What’s his name? And where is he now?”
The air left my lungs. The second question was a trapdoor swinging open beneath my feet. If I told him my father’s name and then had to admit he was lying motionless in a room , a king in a silent, ten years-long sleep… it would be like handing him a knife. He’d use it. He’d rub salt in the wound, call my bluff, and mock the cocky, fatherless girl trying to act tough. The humiliation would be complete.
I didn’t answer. I simply gave a half-roll of my eyes, a gesture of pure, teenage dismissal, and walked right past him. My shoulder almost brushed his arm, and I felt the heat of him, the solidity, as I passed.
Then I saw my salvation: Mandy coming down the staircase, her face lighting up.
“Hey, you’re here!” she shrilled, her voice bouncing off the high ceilings with genuine excitement, as if we hadn’t just seen each other yesterday. She bounded down the last few steps and met me before the staircase, pulling me into a tight hug. “Welcome!”
I hugged her back, managing a real smile. “Thanks for having me.”
Her gaze flickered over my shoulder, toward him, and her smile turned a little conspiratorial. She leaned in, dropping her voice to a whisper only I could hear. “You know, it was his idea.”
“What?”
“The dinner. He suggested I invite you over. To eat with us.”
My lips parted in shock. His idea?
I looked from Mandy’s earnest face back toward where he still stood, a dark, silent figure by the armchair.
Why? To torment me further? To dissect me over roasted vegetables?
Mandy just nodded, as if this were a delightful surprise. “It’s… unusual, but I’m glad, anyway! Come on, let’s go. I’m starving.” She looped her arm through mine and steered me toward the dining room.
The table was set beautifully, but it felt like a stage. Mandy sat me down in a chair and took the one next to me. A moment later, he appeared, moving to the head of the table with that silent, predatory grace. He didn’t look at me as he sat.
“I thought you weren’t going to show up,” Mandy chattered, filling the heavy silence as she served us from the platters in the center—seared meat in a dark sauce, glazed vegetables, fluffy rolls. She served him last, her movements careful.
He simply pulled up the sleeves of his soft grey sweater, exposing strong forearms, and picked up his cutlery. The movements were precise, and economical.
We started eating. It was quiet. The food was incredible, but it tasted like nothing in my mouth. The tension was still there, a live wire strung between the head of the table and me, but Mandy’s presence acted as a buffer, a grounding wire.
I lifted my eyes from my plate on two occasions, only to find him already looking at me. Not with anger or mockery this time. Just… looking. His expression gave away nothing at all. It was somehow worse.
Mandy, bless her, broke the silence. “So, are you enjoying the food?” she asked me brightly.
I nodded, forcing a swallow. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”
Then he spoke. His voice, calm and conversational, made me jump slightly. I’d somehow assumed he’d play the part of a silent, judging statue for the whole meal.
“So, Mandy,” he said, not looking at her but carefully cutting a piece of meat. “How long have you known her?”
Mandy beamed, happy to be included. “We met at Crimson Valley High! I got transferred there in grade eleven, and she was one of the first people who was nice to me. She showed me around when everyone else was just staring.”
“I see.” His gaze shifted to me. “Almost two years, then.”
“One year, ten months, and twenty-eight days,” I cut in, offering Mandy a small, private smile. It was our old joke, her marking the anniversary of our friendship with ridiculous precision.
He took a sip from his water glass, his eyes on me over the rim. “You’ve got quite a memory,” he muttered, the words neither a compliment nor an insult. Just an observation.
I wanted to ignore him, to just talk to Mandy, but his presence was a gravity well, pulling every bit of attention in the room toward him.
He turned his focus back to Mandy. “And how did you become friends?”
She launched into the story, about sitting next to me in Lit class, about borrowing a pen, about how I’d laughed at one of her terrible jokes. He listened, nodding slightly, his expression unreadable.
Then his eyes found mine again. “So you attended the city’s high school,” he stated.
I nodded, wary.
“Why didn’t you school in your own pack?” he asked, his tone deceptively mild. He set his fork down. “I’m sure your ‘dangerous’ Alpha father could have built a dozen schools at your request.” He raised an eyebrow, a challenge. “Or… doesn’t your Fang Storm Pack have schools?”
My breath caught.
How did he know my pack?