Chapter 2

The morning light outlined his sharp profile. He smiled, lips curving. "Morning, little pumpkin." I froze for a second, then quickly disentangled myself from my brother's embrace. I recognized him: Charles, our pack's Beta. Back when Griffin died, Charles sought revenge for him, hunting relentlessly for the killer. The last time I saw him, he said he wanted to take me away. He said Griffin's death wasn't simple; it might be linked to someone in the Davis family. I was blind then, always believing my mate wouldn't harm my family. By the time I started believing Charles, I was already dead at the hands of the rogues. Suddenly, I also realized that the last sound I heard before dying might have been Charles desperately calling my name... "What are you doing here?" The words burst out, laced with surprise. Charles merely raised an eyebrow, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips, offering no answer. "Ahem." Griffin's cough broke the silence. He pushed a bowl of oatmeal towards me. "Eat first, or your stomach will hurt again." I sat down obediently, stirring the oatmeal absently. My gaze kept drifting towards the intensely present figure behind me. "Ava," Griffin spoke suddenly, his phone screen lighting up. "Did you see Michael's post this morning?" It was a Halloween pumpkin photo, the caption seemingly pointed: "Made her angry, how to make it up?" In my past life, I'd foolishly smiled over that post all night, naively believing the 'her' referred to me. It was only later I understood that the 'her' who needed appeasing was always his first love, Abbie. It had nothing to do with me. "Griffin," my voice was so low and trembling it was almost inaudible, "I don't want to talk about Michael anymore." In this life, those twenty years of self-delusion were finally over. Griffin was silent, his fingers scrolling through his chat history with Michael. I saw it clearly: beside the countless messages he'd sent asking about my whereabouts, any mention of me was met with a chilling "Read." The next second, my brother's long finger hovered over Michael's profile picture. He paused for a fraction of a second over the "Delete" button, then pressed it without hesitation. "I'm here," he looked up, his smile warm and firm. "No one gets to make you suffer." Tears instantly blurred my vision. My brother was always like this, standing unconditionally by my side. After breakfast, Griffin took me to the Council Hall. Griffin had previously intended for me to take charge of Michael's First Unit. But I had been solely focused on Michael, wanting only to stay home and take care of him. I never went to the training grounds, leaving everything entirely to Michael. In my past life, Michael, relying on his marriage to the Alpha's sister while he himself was uninterested in managing things, let the unit deteriorate. Problems arose frequently, and ultimately, it was Griffin who had to step in and clean up the mess. Inside the training ground, several warriors clearly remembered my obsession with Michael. One of them, eyes darting nervously, sidled closer, clutching a stack of Michael's training records, trying to slip them to me unnoticed. Whap! A hand with distinct knuckles was faster than mine, snatching the papers away. I looked up, meeting Charles's icy gaze. Without a glance at the papers, he crumpled them into a ball and tossed them accurately into a corner trash bin. "Listen up," Griffin's voice, though not loud, carried undeniable authority that echoed across the training field. "From now on, nothing concerning Michael is to be brought to my sister. Not even a single strand of his hair." Inside the office, Griffin instructed his assistant directly: "Notify them. Michael is immediately transferred to the Third Unit at the border. Also—" "Griffin," I interrupted him, "won't that...? There are still business dealings with the Davis family..." Family connections were complex; I didn't want him making enemies for my sake. Griffin saw through my worry and chuckled, shaking his head. "I told you, I won't let you suffer." He raised a hand to the assistant. "Do it." My brother had an impromptu meeting, leaving the large office suddenly empty except for Charles and me. We hadn't interacted much. The only thing I'd heard was that he harbored an unrequited love for someone, who apparently belonged to another. Under the weight of his deep gaze, I felt intensely uncomfortable and instinctively turned my face away. Just then, my phone rang sharply from my bag. Pulling it out and seeing the screen, I froze for a second, then pressed the reject button without hesitation. "Not answering?" Charles's voice held a note of playful curiosity. He had moved closer without me noticing. "Telemarketer," I replied coldly. The screen lit up again almost immediately. A text message appeared: "I'm sick. Bring me medicine." An address followed the text. I stared at the screen, brow furrowed. "Well, well, who's inviting our little pumpkin?" Charles's voice was suddenly very close to my ear, tinged with mockery. I jolted, nearly jumping. I was hypersensitive to scents; even my mate's approach would register instantly. But this time, Charles had gotten close without my noticing. He seemed slightly surprised he'd startled me, patting my back lightly to soothe me, but couldn't resist teasing: "Tsk, so jumpy? But this address... looks awfully familiar. Like the private property of the Davis family's young master?" The house number – 0726 – of the villa Michael had bought outside the Davis mansion. I had never thought deeply about it before, but now it struck me: 0726... that was Abbie's birthday. Charles noticed my reaction. The playful smile vanished from his face. "What's wrong? Did that man really bully you?" His expression turned serious. "I might not have many talents, but I'm good at settling scores. Want me to go 'visit' him for you?" "No need," my voice was unnervingly calm. My fingers flew over the screen: Block. Delete Michael's contact. The movements were swift and decisive. I lifted my head, meeting his probing gaze. "It's not worth causing trouble over someone who no longer matters." Charles's eyes, which seemed naturally hooked, locked onto me intently, making the tips of my ears feel warm. Griffin returned from his meeting around noon. Charles stretched lazily and suggested, "How about dessert? I suddenly have a craving." I looked at him, surprised.