Chapter 2 Mira

Fate had a cruel sense of timing. Mira stood between two men—the Alpha who had just claimed her with a look, and the stranger whose presence made her bones hum—and not for the first time, she wanted to run but couldn't.

The bond coiled like barbed wire through her chest. It pulled at her muscles, tried to force her closer to them, as if her body had decided love was more important than logic. Her wolf whimpered, aching for completion.

Her human side wanted to scream. She took a step back. “I didn’t ask for this,” she said aloud, though it sounded weaker now than an hour ago.

Rhett’s eyes flicked to her—stormy, unreadable. He didn’t look like the type to back down from anything, and he sure as hell didn’t look like he knew what to do with a mate who wasn’t interested in being claimed.

Good, that made two of them. You were supposed to be free, Ellan. That voice in her head was her mother’s, long dead and never kind. Freedom had always been a mirage anyway. Mira had grown up scraping her way through rogue territories, fighting off worse than ferals, training under bitter Betas who taught her pain before they taught her control.

She’d come to the Summit as a formality—on orders from Ridgeback’s acting Alpha, who didn’t trust her but knew she was too lethal to ignore. She didn’t come to make friends, and she sure as hell didn’t come to find a mate, let alone two.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Jace said quietly, his eyes darting between her and Rhett. His voice was rough but careful. He wasn’t posturing. No bravado. No Alpha growl. Beta, of course, he was.

She knew the moment he stepped into the clearing. There was a stillness to him, like a lake right before a storm—contained, but dangerous underneath. Mira had seen his type before. Quiet warriors. Men who survived things they never talked about.

Her bond to him wasn’t the same as to Rhett's, but it was there—warmer, slower, threaded with something almost gentle. She didn’t know what to do with that. Gentleness had always made her wary.

Mira ran a hand over her braid and blew out a breath. “The bond reveals itself for you, too.” Jace looked stunned. “But I’m not— I mean, I didn’t think…”

“She means you’re her mate,” Rhett cut in, stepping forward, jaw tight. His tone was clipped, forced into calm. Barely. “I didn’t feel anything with you,” Jace told Rhett. “You wouldn’t,” Rhett replied. “Because we’re not,” But he paused.

Something in his eyes flickered, and Mira’s instincts flared. He hadn’t even considered it. The idea that he might also be tied to Jace hadn’t crossed his mind. His wolf had locked onto her and decided that was the end of the story.

Typical Alpha arrogance. Mira crossed her arms. “You felt nothing when he walked into the clearing?” Rhett bristled. “Nothing like what I feel with you.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel what, exactly?” Her tone sharpened. “Lucky?” “No,” Rhett said quickly. He looked frustrated, but not angry. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”

He stopped himself, mouth tightening. Good. She didn’t need another overconfident male trying to explain her own life to her. Mira turned to Jace, softer this time. “What about you? Anything unusual before this?”

Jace rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been feeling… off for the last few days. Restless. Weird dreams. Like someone was calling me, but I didn’t know where from.” Mira’s stomach sank.

She’d had them too. Dreams of voices she couldn’t name. Of eyes in the dark. Of being torn between warmth and wildfire. “Sounds like fate’s dragging us all into the deep end together,” she muttered.

Rhett shifted his weight. “This isn’t sustainable.” “No kidding,” she snapped. “I can accept that you and I are mated,” he said. “That’s already a complication. But I don’t know this man and don’t trust what this is.”

Mira stared at him, heat rising in her chest. “What this is,” she said slowly, “is me. You want me? Then you deal with all of me. Even the parts that don’t make sense to you.”

Rhett held her gaze, jaw clenched, and for a long moment, no one moved. Jace finally broke the silence, stepping back slightly, hands up in peace. “Look, I didn’t come here to cause problems. If this bond is real—and I’m not saying it’s not—I’ll give you space. I’ll step back.”

Mira turned to him, something sharp twisting in her gut. “That’s not how the bond works. If you try to run, it’ll pull harder. You’ll get sick.”

He looked at her with a flicker of fear. Not of her—of what they were now part of. “Then what do we do?” he asked. She didn’t answer because she didn’t know.

The Council torches were burning low. Most of the Summit had returned to their tents or shifted to run under the moonlight. But the three of them stood there, the fire casting long shadows over uncertain ground.

Mira looked between them. Rhett—stoic, fierce, claiming without asking. And Jace—cautious, watchful, already taking a step back even when he didn’t need to. She wasn’t built for this. She wasn’t built for them.

But something inside her—profound, sacred, and old—whispered: You are no longer alone. She hated that it sounded like hope. “Until we figure this out,” she said, voice low, “we don’t tell anyone. Not the Council. Not the packs.”

“Agreed,” Rhett said. Jace nodded. “Fine by me. “For now,” she added. “This doesn’t mean I accept it. Or you.” “Understood,” Rhett said. “But I’m not walking away.”

“Didn’t ask you to,” she said. She met Jace’s gaze last, and for the first time, she felt something in his look that scared her more than the bond itself. Kindness. That alone could undo her faster than anything else.