Kira hurried toward the door, her footsteps quickening as she approached. She could hear her dad shouting at the visitors:
"Get lost! Get the fuck out of my house! None of you are wanted here!"
She hesitated for a moment, then grasped the doorknob and pushed it open. Inside the sitting room, she saw two men dressed in black suits. Their eyes turned toward her as she entered. Mr. Samuels, visibly furious, immediately deflated and sank back onto the sofa, forcing a smile onto his face.
"Kira, you're back," he said, trying to sound casual.
She hesitated, unsure of what to say.
"Umh..."
Her gaze shifted to the two middle-aged men in suits. One of them looked surprised to see her and blurted out,
"Samuels, your daughter is very pretty."
Mr. Samuels stiffened, his face hardening with defensiveness. He quickly stood up, warning sharply,
"Don't even try to set your eyes on her. I won't allow anything to happen to my daughter. Stay away from her."
Kira looked at her father, noting how different he seemed—this rare display of raw emotion and anger. Yet, she couldn't ignore how these two men seemed to provoke those feelings, their words stirring a deep-seated tension that flickered across his face every time they spoke.
She lowered her gaze, suspicion creeping in. She could sense there was a history—an unspoken animosity—between her father and these men. They rose to their feet and one of them spoke again, his tone smooth but insistent:
"You should make up your mind. You're a very valuable asset to the institute, and we have no intention of giving up on a great scientist like you, Sam. You'll always be one of us."
Mr. Samuels pointed a finger at the door, voice rising with anger.
"Get lost! Get out! Scram!"
Kira didn't say a word. She turned away and walked into her room, closing the door behind her. From her window, she watched as the two men, who had come to threaten her father, got into their car and drove off. Her face remained expressionless as she retracted her gaze.
Later, she stepped into the shower, washing away the tension before coming out to her room. She was about to study when she heard a soft knock on the door.
A moment later, her father's voice gently spoke through it:
"I know you can hear me, my dear."
He paused before continuing, his tone sincere:
"I'm sorry you had to witness such an embarrassing scene. I promise it won't happen again. No one is going to hurt you—I'll protect you and your mom with my life."
Kira's eyes lowered, her eyelids heavy with thought. She could feel the genuine love and deep affection in his words, but also a lingering worry.
After a moment, she heard her father's footsteps retreating down the hallway. She sat quietly, pondering how she might help her father.
At midday, Mrs. Samuels returned from the market. Kira, having not eavesdropped on their conversation, suddenly leapt out of the window and headed to meet Pascal at the bar.
As she approached, she raised an eyebrow in a skeptical manner, puzzled by why he had stepped outside. Pascal noticed the confusion on her face and a slight twitch of his lips hinted he thought she might see through his thoughts—that it was somehow romantic.
"Why are you outside the bar?" Kira asked, curiosity evident in her tone. She knew Pascal loved working behind the counter and wouldn't usually leave before nightfall.
Pascal fibbed, "It's too hot inside."
Kira simply raised her eyebrows and chose not to argue. Instead, she softly said, "Look into my memories. I want you to tell me about these two people."
Surprise flickered across Pascal's face at her sudden request. A smile crept onto his lips as he hesitated. "I can't do that without touching you."
Kira nodded in understanding. Pascal was taken aback by her non-rejection, but a grin spread across his face. He reached out to hold her head, but before he could make contact, Kira stiffened abruptly. Her muscles tensed as his palms touched her head.
Instantly, Pascal withdrew his hands, eyes widening as he saw her fists clenched tightly and her eyes burning with anger. She struggled to suppress her wildness, glaring fiercely at him.
"I don't know them," Pascal said quickly, "but someone else might. See you." Without another word, he returned inside the bar.
Kira's clenched forehead veins relaxed, and the urge to punch Pascal's face faded. She took a deep breath, her racing heart slowing. Turning away, she headed home.
When she returned, she was surprised to see her parents sitting beneath a tree in the courtyard, their figures barely visible from her vantage point. Suddenly, he leapt from the branches and landed gracefully inside her room, where she lay on her bed.
After a while, she heard a knock at the door. Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and Mrs. Samuels stepped inside. "You didn't attack, did you?" she asked, her voice cautious.
Kira responded curtly, "No."
Mrs. Samuels exhaled in relief. She then warned softly, "They're not as simple as they seem. They're very dangerous. Your dad can handle this on his own—don't get involved."
Kira nodded obediently, refraining from arguing with her mother. Her phone suddenly buzzed, breaking the quiet. When she saw Davies's name on the screen, she answered.
"Kira," Davies's voice came through the speaker.
She hesitated before replying, "Um..."
Unfazed by her lack of enthusiasm, Davies was even happier that she responded and answered her call. He hurriedly spoke in one breath, "Would you like to be my mate during the bonding nights at the pack house?"
Kira said nothing for a moment, then simply replied, "Yes," and ended the call.
As soon as she confirmed, Davies erupted into celebration, his joy spilling over. He had waited years for this moment—ever since he'd been unable to bond with anyone at the pack house.
Later that evening, Pascal arrived. He leaned casually against a tree, watching her from her window. With a low, teasing voice, he said, "I've been trying to find their identities in the citizen database, but their files are highly confidential. Who are they to you? You aren't planning to murder them, are you?"
Kira's lips twitched at Pascal's wild imagination. She simply replied, "Thank you," and turned to leave the window.
But Pascal reacted dramatically, grabbing his chest and wailing in mock pain. "After using me like that, you're just going to discard me? That hurts my heart! I feel so betrayed!"
He clutched his chest, staggering as if suffering from a heart attack.