CHAPTER 5

The thing about dancing with an Alpha? It’s a dangerous game.

Not the oh-no-I-might-trip-and-faceplant kind of danger. No, this was the I-might-actually-like-this-and-that's-a-problem kind of danger.

And Logan? He played the game too well.

“Call me Naomi,” I said as we moved in sync with the music. “If you keep calling me Miss Carter, I’ll start thinking I should be handing out detention slips.”

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, his grip on my waist tightening just enough to keep me grounded. “Noted. But I don’t know… Miss Naomi does have a certain dominance to it.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, I’m so intimidating. Just ask anyone.”

He spun me effortlessly, his smirk growing. “Oh, I don’t need to. I can see for myself.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach do this weird little flip.

Which was stupid.

Because I didn’t get flustered by men.

Especially not Alphas.

Especially not this Alpha.

So, naturally, I changed the subject.

"Do you have a mate?" I asked, hoping to shift the focus away from me.

Logan’s smirk faded slightly. "No. Not yet."

I hummed, nodding. "I see."

A moment of silence stretched between us before he spoke again.

"Do you?"

I was tense. My feet stumbled, barely noticeable, but Logan caught it. Of course he did.

I let out a breath. "Technically? Yes. But also… no."

Logan’s head tilted. “Interesting answer.”

“It’s an accurate answer.”

He raised a brow. "I assume there’s a story behind that?"

I huffed out a dry laugh. "Oh, you know. The classic tale. Girl meets mate. Mate rejects girl. Says she’s not worthy of being his Luna. Probably write a very dramatic diary entry about it afterward."

Logan’s expression darkened instantly.

"Who?"

There was something dangerously sharp in the way he said it.

I waved a dismissive hand. "Relax, it’s old news."

"Not to me."

I blinked up at him. "Why do you care?"

"Because," he said smoothly, "I’d like to have a… conversation with him."

I let out a snort. "Somehow, I doubt your definition of ‘conversation’ involves words."

Logan’s smirk was slow, deliberate. “Depends on his answers.”

I shook my head. "Look, it doesn’t matter. He made his choice, and I’m making mine. Once I break the bond, I’ll be focusing on my career. That’s all I need."

Logan’s grip on my waist tightened slightly before he spoke.

"And if I asked you to consider something else?"

I froze.

Slowly, I looked up at him. "Like what?"

"Like me."

My breath caught.

Logan didn’t hesitate. Didn’t falter. Just said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I opened my mouth—to say what, I had no clue—but he beat me to it.

"I know you can stand on your own, Ruby," he said quietly. "But if you ever decide you want someone beside you… I’m here."

And just like that, my entire brain malfunctioned.

Did he just…?

Did Alpha Logan of Midnight Pack just offer himself as my mate?

I didn’t know what to say.

And, mercifully, I didn’t have to. Because the song ended, and Logan stepped back with a small, knowing smile.

"Think about it," he murmured before disappearing into the crowd.

Something is Wrong

I needed air.

The dance, the conversation, the weight of everything—it was too much.

So I did the logical thing.

I fled.

The hallway was eerily quiet.

Too quiet.

And then the feeling hit me.

That prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

Someone was watching me.

Following me.

I turned sharply. Nothing.

Just an empty corridor.

I shook my head, exhaling. Get it together, Ruby.

The moment I entered the washroom, I leaned against the sink, gripping the edges.

My reflection stared back at me.

I looked… normal. Fine. Beautiful, even. At least, according to Layla. She always said my hazel eyes were sexy.

So why the hell wasn’t I enough?

Why couldn’t my own mate see what Logan saw?

I hated that I still cared.

Hated that a tiny, broken part of me still hoped he’d change his mind. That he’d wake up one day, realize what he’d done, and come crawling back with apologies dripping from his lips.

Pathetic.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head. No. Enough. I was done waiting for a ghost. Done wishing for a man who had already walked away.

But then—

"Hello, mate."

The voice was deep. Rough. Familiar.

A chill raced down my spine. My breath hitched. No. It couldn’t be.

I turned, my heart hammering against my ribs, each thud a warning.

And when I saw who was standing behind me—

My blood ran cold.

He was exactly as I remembered him—only worse. The same sharp jawline, the same piercing eyes, but there was something different now. A darkness coiled around him like a second skin.

My mouth went dry. "You shouldn’t be here."

His lips curled into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Did you miss me?"

I swallowed hard, forcing down the surge of emotions clawing their way to the surface. Anger. Fear. A twisted, unwanted flicker of something else—something dangerous.

"No," I lied.

He took a step closer, and the air between us grew thick, charged.

"Liar."

His voice was softer now, almost amused. Like this was a game to him. Like my chest wasn’t tight with the weight of everything he’d done.

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. "What do you want?"

He tilted his head, studying me, his expression unreadable. And then, in that same low, gravelly voice, he murmured—

"You."

My stomach twisted. My pulse pounded.

I should have run. Should have told him to go to hell.

But instead, I just stood there, caught in the gravity of a man who had already shattered me once.

And God help me—because a part of me feared he was about to do it again.