Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Dear Master, We're Mates! (M×M): Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

KILLANThe firing range was dimly lit. The cold morning air kissed my skin, ruffling the silver strands falling over my brows. My whole attention was fixed on only one thing—the target. I fired at it with a perfect aim. Rapid. Emotionless. I aimed at another target for the hundredth time today. I needed a distraction, but I wasn't getting any. All I could think about was the sound of Ethan's voice, his lips glistening with the garlic soup I'd made, the hesitation in his eyes when he wanted to leave. The Moon Goddess knew how hard it was not to drag him to my bed. It was damn frustrating, keeping the wide smile on my lips, just so he wouldn't freak out and leave. I fired again. And I didn't miss. Not even once. “You should consider enlisting.” A loud clap echoed in my ears, interrupting my train of thoughts. I paused, glancing one my shoulders. “Your shots, they're clean as hell.” I came here to unwind, not to listen to praises. I ignored him. “You know, a ‘thank you’ wouldn'

KILLAN Was he going to come? Would he make it here in time? I couldn't rip my gaze from the gates. It felt like my insides were quivering, intestines burning away in a hot bowl of flames. The pool party was alive, it was everything anyone could dream of—but I wasn't everyone. I only wanted one thing. ETHAN. Loud bass pulsed through my veins, fingers tightly wrapped around a glass of wine. I didn't know if I lost count of the days, but I could barely stand, barely keep my gaze on a particular object without it getting all blurry. But I held unto the fact that Ethan would be here. He had to be here. I was gradually losing it—my sanity—but I didn't want to push. Not when he'd stare at me like the monster I was. Bodies were gliding against each other, water being splashed as giggles filled the air. But this whole shit was for just one person. Ethan. I'd thought about it. Maybe Bernard was right, maybe telling him the truth wouldn't hurt. I didn't want to leave without s

KILLAN Flashback “Alexander.” My father tapped on a seat, urging me to take some steps towards him. We just came back from hunting. I was tired, exhausted, on the brink of breaking down, but my father saw that as weakness. The moment I sat down on the large couch, my father pushed a glass of water towards me. “Your family is dying,” he began, voice cold and robotic, “this glass of water contains a poison fatal enough to kill you in five minutes. The only way to save them is by taking this poison.” A test. Another test. He always did that. There was no time to bond, no time to do what other dads did with their kids, I was stuck with a statue. A man incapable of feelings, a man with no emotions—Alpha Throne Grey. “Would you take this poison and save your family?” His question stirred something within me, a raging beast I'd always tried to tame. Rage. My father didn't like hesitation. He didn't like being challenged, talked against, but I stared down the glass like it didn't

ETHANA large suitcase. A small bag. Standing before a broken mirror, I stared at my not-so-familiar outfit. My hair doubled in length—not the usual light brown, but ravenblack—and my rich brown eyes looked tired, like they'd seen it all. And maybe they had. It's been days since I last visited the cemetery. Days without shedding a single tear, days without trying to call Killan's number, and days with just merely….existing. Trust me when I say it's hard. Really hard. Occasionally, I fight the images in my head, try to get occupied with something else, but they stick anyway. Grabbing the small bag with my bruised knuckles wrapped in gauze, I dragged the suitcase with my other hand. This whole town reminded me of him—Killan, and the longer I stayed, the more I'd break. I was already broken anyway. Barely hanging by a thread. Finding Gregor at my doorstep, I fumbled for the keys in my pocket, shoving it in his rough palm, “everything's cleaned. The bathroom, the living room, the ki

ETHAN Golden light spilled from the small bulb hanging by the ceiling, illuminating the small dining area. The smell of coffee—from the kitchen—drifted into my nostrils as Jaz’s excited voice cut through the air, “I still can't believe we're getting a new boss. Finally, a breathing space from the Almighty Luther.” Her smile widened, and I couldn't stop staring at it.“Don't you think we should celebrate this or something?” she wriggled her brows at me. I shook my head. “Still jumping into conclusions, Jaz?” That was Marinette. Soft. Warm. Sweet. Five years ago, she accepted a broken young man into her home, and she doesn't seem to regret it. With short auburn hair, pointed nose and rosy cheeks, she looked quite identical to Jaz. They were sisters, anyway. “He might be different, Marinette,” Jaz smiled, setting the table with her niece, Gwendolyn. She was three when I got here. She grew a little too fast. I stalked towards the kitchen, grabbed some plates from the rack, and pas