When Kira heard what Pascal had done to the dog, her eyes darkened with anger. She guessed immediately, and her voice turned cold as she said, "Let's step outside. I promise, I won't whip your ass."
Pascal chuckled softly and replied, "Instead of fighting, why don't you have a drink on my tab? What would you like?"
Kira narrowed her eyes, studying him carefully. Then, word for word, she spat, "Fuck you and your drink. Reverse whatever you did to Whiskey."
Without waiting for a response, she turned sharply and headed for the door. Pascal opened his mouth to say something, but then whispered, "Mate."
Hearing him, Kira paused just before reaching the door handle. She turned around, glaring at Pascal, who beamed back at her.
She grasped the door handle, pushed it open, and stepped outside.
No sooner had she left, a drunken man stumbled toward Pascal and slurred, "The girl that just left… she's beautiful…"
Before he could finish, Pascal's hand shot out, gripping the man's neck tightly. The drunk struggled, but Pascal's stare was icy as he warned, "She's mine. Get lost."
He shoved the man away, causing the bar's atmosphere to fall silent in shock. Pascal then fake-smiled, raising a bottle and saying, "Everyone, one on me. I'll pay."
The patrons cheered, quickly forgetting the fallen drunk on the floor.
Later that night, Pascal closed the bar at 10 p.m. He took a quick shower, changed into fresh clothes, and stepped out into the cool night air. The wind whistled softly, causing his jacket to flutter. Hands in his pockets, he strode away, heading into the woods.
He emerged beside a tree near Kira's home and softly called out, "I know you're still awake. I can hear your breathing. I'm here to do what you wanted me to."
Inside her room, Kira opened her eyes. She remained on her bed, silent, not bothering to reply.
Pascal leaned against a tree, arms crossed, his voice soft but earnest. "Kira, you may not realize this, but I'm already in love with you. Whenever I see you, I lose control of my emotions. I want you—everything about you is all I wish for. My love for you is real."
Kira's eyes grew cold, annoyance flickering in her gaze. Her fists clenched tightly beneath the duvet as she listened.
Pascal continued whispering, his tone pleading, "I thought I'd be matched with someone just for me. But when I found out you're connected to two others—two guys who also care about you—it's driving me crazy. I wish they would just disappear from the face of the Earth. You're only meant to be mine. Just me and you against the world. I'd be whatever man you want me to be..."
He paused, then looked up, noticing Kira standing at her window. Her face remained impassive, her eyes cold and filled with anger.
She barely whispered, "I don't care if you all end yourselves. Get out of my window. I need sleep."
Pascal chuckled softly, waving at her before turning around and disappearing into the woods. Kira exhaled in relief, touching her forehead, then climbed back into bed and quickly fell asleep.
The next morning, at dawn, she stepped outside for her routine jog. As she returned home, she noticed a car trailing behind her. She stopped, turned around—Saturday morning, a weekend.
The car pulled up, and Davies stepped out, holding a bouquet of flowers. Seeing him, Kira crossed her arms, unimpressed.
Smiling, he approached her, speaking smoothly. "Kira, I thought that guy who gave me your address was lying. But look—I found you. I brought you these." He held out the bouquet. "Are you free tonight? Let's go see a movie."
Kira raised an eyebrow, refusing to accept the flowers. She asked bluntly, "Who the fuck are you?"
His face darkened. "That's not how you talk to me. I'm your mate. I've been putting a lot of effort into making this bond work. I've got other girls throwing themselves at me, but I chose you. Look—"
Before he could finish, Kira snatched the bouquet and hurled it into his face, sneering in disdain. "Fuck you and your options."
Without a word, she turned and started jogging away. Davies watched her go, fists clenched in anger, rage simmering in his eyes.
He stared after her with an icy gaze, then looked down at the crushed flowers on the ground. After a moment, he turned on his heel, got into his car, and drove off, visibly seething.
When Kira returned home, she saw her dad carrying Whiskey inside his trunk. As Mr. Samuels noticed her, he called out, "Kira, I'm taking the dog to the vet."
She nodded softly. "Alright, Dad."
She was about to walk into her room when Mrs. Samuels appeared at the kitchen door and called out to her. "You didn't let him carry you when you were a child. Whenever he got close, you'd cry so loudly it was almost unbearable..."
Kira turned to face her, noticing Mrs. Samuels standing there, watching her with a gentle gaze. Her hands were wet—probably from cooking.
While Mrs. Samuels was in the kitchen, she had overheard Kira talking with her father earlier.
"Even when he tried to be funny or play with you, you'd always give him a poker face. You've never smiled at him. I don't understand why, but I want you to know— not all men are monsters. Not all men deserve to be unloved. Your dad is an angel in human form—the sweetest man you'll ever meet," Mrs. Samuels said softly, her eyes shining and a hint of shyness flickering across her face as she spoke about her husband.
Kira's lips twitched slightly. She opened her mouth to reply but found no words. Instead, she simply said, "Mom, I'm tired. I want to shower and rest."
After she finished speaking and headed toward her room, there was a knock at the door.