Chapter 16 Chapter 16
MIRA
I spent the entire day pretending the walls didn’t remember what happened.
They probably did. Everything in this mansion felt like it had eyes—old wood, old power, old secrets pressed into the halls like dust. By evening, I was still hiding in my room, trying to convince myself my face wasn’t permanently stained with humiliation from school. The whispers, the looks, Zane’s kiss—
God. Just thinking about it made my stomach twist.
I paced around my room until my feet hurt, telling myself I shouldn’t care what any of them thought. But that was a lie. Some part of me was waiting for… something. A knock. A confrontation. An apology. I didn’t even know.
What I got instead was Zane’s voice through the door.
“Mira?”
My heart actually skipped. I hated that it did.
I opened the door a crack, and of course he was leaning on the frame like he owned gravity, his hair slightly damp, his shirt clinging to his torso like it had a personal grudge against me.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said. No smirk, no teasing—just watching me with that unreadable Zane-look that made me feel like he knew things I didn’t want him to.
“I’m not hungry,” I muttered automatically.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah, you are.”
And somehow the worst part wasn’t his confidence. It was that he was right.
I sighed and stepped out. He didn’t touch me—he didn’t even brush against me—but walking beside him felt… loud. Like my body remembered things before my mind did. His scent clung faintly to the hallway, warm and sharp, and my face heated up all over again.
The dining room lights were low, golden. Luca was already sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone with his glasses sliding down his nose—he always looked like the least threatening wolf in the universe until he opened his mouth. Jax sat opposite him, quiet, broad shoulders tense like he was waiting to be ambushed.
All three of them looked up when I entered.
And for a moment, the world forgot how to move.
Luca’s expression softened instantly. “You okay, Mira?” he asked, pushing his glasses up.
Jax didn’t say anything, but his gaze flicked over me, slow and evaluating—like he was checking I wasn’t hurt.
It should’ve annoyed me. It didn’t. Not fully.
Zane took the seat closest to mine, and I could feel his warmth even though we weren’t touching. I tried to focus on the food. Tried not to think about yesterday. Or about the way Zane’s knuckles brushed mine once, lightly, like an accident.
The dinner was quiet at first. Too quiet. Forks scraping, water glasses clinking, my pulse hammering way too loudly.
Luca eventually broke it. “So,” he said carefully, “tomorrow’s free. If you want, I could drive you to the library. Or into town. Or—”
“You’re not her chauffeur,” Zane cut in, but his tone wasn’t sharp—just annoyed that Luca had spoken first.
“I wasn’t offering as a chauffeur,” Luca said, glaring at him. “I was being nice.”
“You? Nice? To her?” Zane leaned back. “Since when?”
“Since always.”
They started bickering, and a tiny, unwilling laugh slipped out of me. Barely anything, more like a breath. But the moment it happened, all three of them looked at me like I’d just done something miraculous.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Don’t stare.”
“We’re not,” Luca said.
“You absolutely are,” I muttered.
Even Jax’s mouth twitched—like he almost smiled.
The tension in my chest loosened a little. Not much. But enough to breathe.
After dinner, I helped Luca with the dishes. Zane leaned on the counter pretending to supervise while Jax dried silently. It felt bizarrely normal—too normal. Like this was what life with them could be if things weren’t so twisted.
I hated that the thought felt… warm.
When we finished, I excused myself and headed toward my room. The hallway was quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you think too much.
I was halfway up the stairs when movement in the foyer froze me in place.
Sofia stood there like she’d been dropped at the door—hair messy, makeup smudged, her clothes thrown on without care. Her eyes were glossy, too wide, like she’d practiced this moment a hundred times and still wasn’t ready.
“Mira,” she breathed, stepping forward with her hands twisting together as if she could tie her nerves into a knot. “Please… can we talk?”
My jaw tightened immediately. “How did you even get inside?”
“The guards know me.” She tried to smile, but it cracked halfway. “I’ve been here before, so they didn’t stop me. I just—” Her voice wavered. “I needed to see you.”
“Why?” I didn’t bother softening the snap in my tone. “To pretend you didn’t ignore me when I needed you?”
Sofia flinched hard—her shoulders caved slightly, as if the words hit exactly where she expected. “I know. I know I messed up.” She took a small step closer, almost flinching at her own movement. “Just… not here. Can we talk somewhere private?”
The audacity.
I crossed my arms tighter, nails digging into my sleeves. “You could’ve talked that night. You could’ve texted. You could’ve picked up the damn phone.”
“I know,” she whispered, and the way her voice cracked made something in my chest twist—but not enough to forgive her. “I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve answered. I should’ve come. I just—” She swallowed, her throat bobbing as she struggled for more words. “I didn’t mean to abandon you.”
Before I could respond, a warm presence stepped behind me—and then slightly in front of me.
Zane.
He didn’t crowd me, didn’t push. He just slid casually into the space between us, his arm settling over my shoulders like it belonged there, like it wasn’t even a conscious decision. His warmth spread through me instantly, confusing and grounding all at once.
Sofia’s eyes jumped to his hand on me, then to his face, then back again—her breath hitching so sharply I almost heard it.
“Evening, Sofia,” Zane said, his voice low and smooth as he leaned, not touching me more, but making it very clear where he stood. “You picked an interesting time to show up.”
She scraped her shoe against the floor, staring anywhere but his arm. “I came to talk to Mira,” she said quickly, her words tumbling out like she wanted to get them away from herself. “To apologize.”
“About what?” Zane asked, and even though his tone sounded neutral, there was an unmistakable weight behind it—the kind that made people tell the truth even when they didn’t want to.
Sofia’s eyes flicked to me, pleading, then dropped to the floor. “About… everything. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. I should’ve been.”
“You think?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady even though my pulse was pounding under Zane’s arm.
Sofia’s breath trembled as she nodded. “You have every right to be mad. And I’ll explain what happened that night—I will. Just not…” Her gaze darted to Zane again, and her voice faltered. “Not here.”
His brow lifted a fraction. “Why not here?”
“N-nothing,” she stammered, the lie sloppy and immediate. “It’s just… personal.”
The air tightened.
Zane didn’t move, didn’t shift, but his attention sharpened around the edges—focused, assessing, calculating in that quiet way of his that made the room feel smaller.
I stepped out from under his arm—not because I wanted space, but because I didn’t want this conversation wrapped in his warmth. I needed clarity, not comfort.
“Fine,” I said, folding my arms again. “Tomorrow. At school. You can explain then.”
Relief washed across Sofia’s face so fast it looked like a glitch. “Okay. Thank you. Tomorrow. I swear I’ll tell you everything.”
She tried to smile again, but it collapsed immediately. Her gaze flicked once more toward where Zane stood, posture lazy but eyes anything but, and she backed toward the door so quickly she almost tripped.
She didn’t say goodbye.
She just fled.
The door clicked shut behind her, and I exhaled a breath that felt like it’d been trapped in my chest for hours.
Zane let his arm fall back to his side, watching the door with a faint, amused tilt of his head. “Well,” he murmured, “that was messy.”
“You don’t say,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.
He looked at me, really looked, then nodded once—like he’d come to a quiet conclusion. “She hurt you.”
“She ditched me,” I said. “When I needed her.”
“Then she deserved whatever tone you gave her.” His voice didn’t sharpen, didn’t warm. It simply held certainty—like the matter wasn’t up for debate.
I wasn’t prepared for the way that steadiness tugged at something deep in my chest.
Before I could unpack it, he nudged the foyer door open with his shoulder and jerked his chin toward the dining room. “Luca said dessert’s ready. If we keep him waiting, he’ll start threatening us with flan.”
Despite everything, a tiny breath of laughter escaped me.
And I followed him in.