Chasing Freedom

XXII

Mira was refilling through the fridge, debating what to throw together for dinner when her phone rang. Closing the door of it, she walked over to the island bench, picking up her phone. Myles name was on the screen, which wasn't a surprise.

"Hello?" she said, answering as she headed back over to the fridge.

"Mira, hey."

In the background someone was talking. Loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to be understandable. Myles, himself, sounded distracted.

All at once, she was reminded by the tension between them. Well, the tension on her end that she'd been keeping from Myles.

Earlier, Vara had called. Within the space of ten minutes on the phone to her, Mira had cracked wide open. Every worry and every fear she'd felt had poured out in a rush. There was the paranoia that she'd ruined everything, or made Myles feel like she'd used him in some way. An ironic parallel, as Vara pointed out, to how adamantly he'd been about making it clear he wasn't taking advantage of it. She regretted nothing and yet in the aftermath there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, despite Vara's reassurances that she was overthinking it all.

When Myles remained silent, Mira bit her lip. Then, she asked, "Was there anything particular you want eat? I've got a few option, but a second opinion would help."

Small talk, she could do. A gourmet meal, not so much, but she needed to make the effort at least. The balance of what she'd given Myles and what he'd given her were far too unequal.

"About that," came the reply. "Don't worry about dinner. There's someone coming over to pick you up and bring you to the back house instead."

"Has something happened?"

It could be nothing, something as innocent as a dinner invitation, which had happened a few times now. But, when Myles hesitated, she knew that wasn't the case. "I'll explain when you get here."

Alarm bells were ringing in her head. Mira knew she couldn't let that on, however. "How far away are they?"

"Five minutes. Maybe less."

Which meant that she had less than five minutes to gather her wits. A feat that seemed impossible as she stood there, staring ahead unseeingly.

Mira knew what this was about: the letter. Had giving it to Myles, under the condition she wouldn't be there when it was opened, been a terrible decision? It all seemed to innocent, just a slip of paper with some words. From what she'd learned about packs, she'd simply assumed it was a petition of some sort to convince the Alpha to accept her into his pack. Was it something else entirely? She wracked her brain for what that 'something else' could even be, but ultimately came up empty.

Because there was no way her father would have divulged her—and his, ultimately—secrets. He'd been the one, her whole life, to drill into her how important it was to never expose what she was. How dangerous it would be if anyone ever found out.

As she hung up the phone, Mira toyed with the bracelet on her wrist. Could she make an excuse that wouldn't be completely see-through and wouldn't offend anyone? Could she handle the guilt that would come with that—running—when she already had so much eating at her.

On auto-pilot, Mira left the kitchen and headed to her bathroom. She'd stepped in front of the full length mirror, frowning. Her jeans and plain sweater would suffice, but her face was another story. Moving the sink, she made quick work of adding foundation to her skin to disguise her nervous pallor. Mascara was next. Then, she brushed out the tangles in her hair.