Saphira nces toward the kitchen, noting the neat arrangement of ingredients and utensils-he clearly doesn’t need help, but still, she asks, “So, do you need help with anything?”
The corner of Niks’s mouth twitches, barely suppressing a smirk. The amusement in his expression is subtle, but unmistakable.
“No,” he says simply. “But I made you breakfast.”
He gestures toward the table, and Saphira follows his gaze. Her breath catches slightly when she sees it-two tes, both full of food. A full English breakfast,plete with a cup of coffee.
Her jaw nearly drops. No one has ever made her food before.
“Thank you,” she says, moving to sit in the nearest chair. “You really didn’t have to.”
“No bother,” he replies, like it’s nothing, as if the act carries no weight at all.
Saphira hesitates before teasing, “Any poison?”
“I wouldn’t make it that easy,” he counters smoothly.
She chuckles lightly, though his response sends a small ripple of unease through her.
As they sit down, the silence stretches between them, thick and awkward. She waits for him to start eating first, unsure of how to navigate the unexpected
gesture.
For once, Niks seems like less of an enigma. But that only makes her more curious.
Saphira barely makes it a quarter of the way through her meal before the fullness sets in. It’s instinctive, ingrained in her from years of surviving on scraps -her body simply isn’t used to having this much food at once.
But she doesn’t want to waste it. Not after Niks went through the trouble of making it.
She hesitates, trying to push past the feeling, but the silence is suddenly broken.
“You don’t have to eat it all.”
His voice pulls her from her thoughts, making her nce up at him.
Warmth spreads across her cheeks. He caught her.
Saphira shifts slightly, feeling the weight of his gaze as she clears her throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t eat a lot. It really was nice though, thank you,” she says quickly, hoping her words are enough to brush past the awkwardness.
She nces at his tepletely empty. Not a single crumb left behind, save for their still-warm coffees.
Without hesitating, she stands, gathering both tes and carrying them to the kitchen. She ces his in the sink, then finds a small container for the remaining food on hers. She carefully transfers the leftovers into the tub before tucking it away in the fridge forter.
The washing doesn’t take long, but the awareness of Niks’s unwavering stare makes every movement feel deliberate. She doesn’t look up-doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she focuses on rinsing the tes, drying them, and cing them neatly away.
Once finished, she turns back to the table, sitting down and wrapping her hands around her coffee mug. Taking a slow sip, she lets the warmth settle in her chest, though the tension in the air remains unspoken between them.
Niks watches her closely, curiosity flickering across his features. “For someone whoes from a wolf pack, I expected you to have a big appetite-most
* 24
do, he remarks, his tone edged with quiet intrigue.
Saphira shifts slightly under his gaze. He’s studying her, analysing, as though he’s peeling awayyers she isn’t ready to expose. He can tell something’s off, she thinks. Or maybe she’s just being paranoid.
“I don’t have a wolf,” she replies, her voice steady, rehearsed. “So, I don’t have the same appetite.”
He doesn’t respond immediately, just continues staring-assessing. Then, slowly, he leans forward, his intensity sharpening.
“You know, I’m quite good at reading people,” he says. “And everything you’ve told me so far has been the truth.”
A pause.
“But that was a lie.”
His voice remains calm, but there’s an unmistakable edge beneath it.
“And I don’t like liars.”
Saphira stiffens. He sees everything. Knows far too much.
And judging by the serious glint in his eye, he’s not the type to let it go.
Saphira’s fingers tighten slightly around her coffee cup as she exhales, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I wasn’t entirely lying,” she admits, voice quieter but resolute. “It’s partly because I don’t have a wolf. But more than that-I was at the bottom of the pack. I had to make do with whatever was left after everyone else had eaten.”
Niks watches her, his expression unreadable. “That’s not how a pack works,” he states, firm and certain, as though the idea itself is foreign to him.
She lets out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “It was mine,” she counters simply. If only he knew.
A pause.
Then-his eyes sharpen slightly, studying her with unnerving precision. “I’m guessing it also has something to do with Connor?”
Her body stiffens. The cup nearly slips from her fingers as she jerks her gaze back to him, shock shing through her.
“What?” she breathes.
Niks remains still, leaning forward slightly, unconcerned by her reaction.
“I suspected as much,” he mutters, as if it were obvious.
Saphira swallows hard. He knows too much. Or worse-he sees right through her.
Saphira hesitates, the words lingering on the tip of her tongue. Do I tell him?
No one has ever believed her before-why would he? And if he didn’t, what would he do?
But then, what does she have to lose? She’s likely to die soon anyway.
She exhales sharply, bracing herself. “Yes, he died,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “And they med it on me. But I didn’t do it.”
She looks down for a brief moment, fingers tightening around her cup before she continues. “My half-sister wanted to push me over the edge of a cliff. Connor shoved me out of the way. When I got up-he was gone. Over the edge himself.” Her breath catches, but she forces herself to push through. “I don’t know exactly how-but I know it wasn’t me.”
CHAPTER TU
Lifting her gaze, she meets Niks’s eyes, searching-needing to know if he believes her.
A few moments pass, stretching unbearably between them.
He doesn’t speak.
Just watches her.
Waiting. Analysing.
The silence is suffocating.
Niks finally speaks, his voice calm yet unwavering. “I told you before that I know when you’re lying.”
Saphira exhales sharply, shaking her head in frustration. Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me?