Chapter 158
I was surprised by her openness. As she guided me through the house, she mentioned that I could come and go as I pleased. Her trust in me was unexpected but deeply appreciated. “I want you to feel comfortable here.” Tira said gently. “This is your space now.”
We made our way to a private study she had prepared especially for me. The room was bright, filled with the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows. “Here’s where you’ll work,” she said, gesturing to a large, beautifully crafted wooden desk. “Freya, please bring the manuscripts.”
Freya returned with the precious documents, and as soon as I held them in my hands, a thrill rushed through me. These were Viktor Rosenhall’s manuscripts–irreplaceable treasures from a different era. I ran my fingers across the pages, marveling at the handwritten notes. Some were faded, others almost illegible, and the paper was fragile, marked by the passage of time.
Tira watched me closely. “Can you repair them?” she asked softly.
I nodded, though my voice was tentative. “T’ll do my best.”
To my surprise, Tira wasn’t overly focused on the manuscripts. Instead, she seemed more concerned with me. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself,” she said gently. “I trust you to do what you can. That’s enough.”
Her words were like a balm to my heart. For the first time, I felt something maternal from her, a
protective, almost nurturing energy. Touched by her kindness, I immersed myself in the work, rarely leaving the study except for short breaks.
That night, after a long day, I finally stepped away from the desk, took a shower, and prepared for bed. Just as I was settling down, my phone rang. It was Lorik.
“I’m coming to see you,” he said without preamble. “Once I’m done with the project at Silvermocht,
head over.”
“Lorik, really, there’s no need to worry.” I replied. “Alpha Tira has been incredibly kind, and the Thorne Valley Pack isn’t dangerous at all. In fact, everyone’s been welcoming.”
There was a pause on the other end, as if he were considering my words. “Tira must like you a lot,” he said finally. “I looked into her past. She lost her husband and only daughter during a chase some years ago. You’re about the same age as her daughter would’ve been. Maybe you remind her of the
child she lost.”
blinked in surprise. I hadn’t known Tira carried such grief. “I… I didn’t realize.”
After I Let Go My Alpha. He knelt :
Even so,” Lorik warned, his voice lowering, “don’t let your guard down. Finish the restoration and come home soon.”
“Why?” I asked, curious. “It’s safe here. I don’t have much work waiting for me back at Silvermoon.
Lorik’s voice softened, a hint of vulnerability breaking through. “Because I miss you.”
Lorik’s low voice rumbled through the cell phone, so deep it felt like it vibrated right through the screen, making my ears burn a little. His tone was calm but with an edge, one that made me fidget despite myself.
I kept my voice steady, replying deliberately. “But I don’t want you here.”
There was a short pause before Lorik answered, sounding a little helpless, “I know. But I’ll find a
way to get to you.”
His words made me freeze. The gravity of what he said was undeniable. I quickly straightened up and said seriously, “This is the Rouge territory, Lorik. As an Alpha of Silvermoon, you have responsibilities. You can’t risk coming here.”
Lorik’s voice softened, yet there was still something unyielding behind his words. “Aren’t you there
as the Luna of Silvermoon?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, dumbfounded. He had me there. But still, our situations were different, weren’t they?
I insisted, “It’s not the same.”
Lorik let out a soft chuckle, the sound sending a familiar warmth through me. “If you hadn’t returned as expected, Shirley,” he said quietly, “I’m not sure I wouldn’t have shown up.”
I sighed, feeling a little helpless at his protectiveness. He was always like this. We had agreed on a date before I left Silvermoon, and when that day arrived, no matter what, I would return. But I knew that deep down, if anything went wrong, Lorik wouldn’t hesitate to come for me.
After hanging up the phone, I fell asleep quickly, exhaustion pulling me into slumber.
The next day, I woke up early and resumed my work on the ancient sheet music. The piece was fragile, centuries old, and in desperate need of restoration. Much of it had been damaged by time–tears, insect bites, and fading ink had nearly erased its legacy.
This troubles me a bit: can I really restore this ancient and value–laden sheet music?
He knelt m
