Mira woke later than usual, the residue of a sleepless night lingering in the gentle heaviness of her limbs, yet the delay did nothing to weaken her resolve.
Routine, she had learned, was not something to be negotiated with, and by the time the morning light filtered through the tall windows of Blackthorn Estate, she was already pulling on her running clothes and tying her hair back with practiced efficiency.
Boreas had been waiting for her.
The massive Caucasian Shepherd rose from his place near the terrace doors the moment he sensed movement upstairs. He didn't bark. He didn't make a show of it. He simply lifted his head first—ears twitching—then pushed himself up in one fluid, powerful motion that made the marble floor tremble faintly beneath his weight.
He stretched with exaggerated leisure, front paws extending far forward, chest low, back arching like a creature far smaller than his imposing size. It was a performance. A deliberate one.
Mira stepped onto the terrace, already dressed. She stopped when she saw him mid-stretch.
"Oh no," she muttered. "Don't pretend you just woke up."
Boreas blinked at her, entirely unrepentant.
He trotted over with heavy, confident steps, as if this had been his plan all along—as if he had not been stationed there for the past twenty minutes waiting for her routine to begin. His thick coat caught the early sunlight, ash and gold tones weaving together as it shifted. He wagged his tail once. Then twice. Then, unable to maintain composure, three times in rapid succession.
Clearly pleased with the idea of being promoted from guardian to workout companion.
"You look far too excited for this," Mira remarked dryly, crouching slightly as she reached for his collar.
Boreas responded with a deep, theatrical huff and leaned into her hand, nearly knocking her off balance with the force of it.
"That's not encouragement," she said, bracing herself. "That's intimidation."
He pressed his head against her hip as if to argue the point.
"You are aware," she continued calmly, clipping the leash on with practiced ease, "that this is a five-kilometer run. Uphill."
His tail wagged harder.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You have fur. Built-in insulation. This is unfair."
Boreas let out a short, low rumble that sounded suspiciously like amusement.
"Don't," she warned. "Don't you dare pretend you're laughing."
He stepped closer instead, massive shoulder brushing against her thigh, urging her toward the garden path.
Subtlety was not among his talents.
Mira sighed, though the corner of her mouth twitched. "You're supposed to be guarding the estate. Not supervising my cardio."
He paused at that, glancing toward the grounds as if to confirm no immediate threats were present.
The property lay quiet—manicured hedges, distant security posts, morning mist still clinging to the edges of the lawn.
Satisfied, he looked back at her.
"Unbelievable," she murmured. "You've delegated."
She gave the leash a light tug. "Fine. But if I collapse halfway through, you are carrying me back."
Boreas's ears perked up.
"That was not an invitation," she added quickly.
He moved ahead anyway, powerful frame already angling toward the gravel trail that wound beyond the estate's perimeter. His pace was controlled, but the energy in him was unmistakable—barely contained strength disguised as obedience.
They set off at a steady pace, the path winding through the outer grounds of the estate where the land opened into long stretches of green bordered by trees and carefully concealed security posts.
This part of Blackthorn was designed for movement rather than display, wide enough for uninterrupted runs, quiet enough to feel removed from the world beyond its borders.
Forty-five minutes later, both runner and dog were undeniably feeling the effort.
Mira slowed to a jog, then to a walk, her breath deep and measured as sweat traced the curve of her temples and slid down the line of her jaw.
The morning sun caught against her skin, making it glisten faintly as though she were lit from within, and even in exertion there was an effortless grace to the way she moved.
She wore fitted black running leggings and a lightweight gray athletic top that clung just enough to show the strength beneath, her sneakers dusted with faint traces of earth from the path.
She still looked beautiful.
Not polished or distant, but alive, flushed with exertion, her hair escaping its tie in soft strands that framed her face as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand.
Boreas flopped down beside her in the grass with an exaggerated sigh, his massive body settling heavily against the earth as though he had just completed a task of heroic proportions.
His broad chest rose and fell in deep, audible breaths, his tongue lolling out to one side in a display so thoroughly undignified that it stripped him of every ounce of menace he usually carried.
The fierce guardian of Blackthorn Estate now looked more like an overworked athlete who had very strong opinions about hydration.
Mira lowered herself onto the grass beside him, stretching her legs out in front of her before leaning back on her hands, the cool blades brushing against her palms.
She turned her head to study him, one brow lifting with dry amusement as she took in the sight.
"You're supposed to be terrifying," she said mildly, one brow lifting as she looked down at the enormous mass of fur sprawled dramatically across the grass.
Her voice was threaded with quiet laughter. "People are meant to whisper your name in fear. Guards are supposed to stiffen when you walk past. Not watch you collapse like this after one run. This display is doing irreversible damage to your reputation."
Boreas, who had been lying on his side with all the theatrical exhaustion of a fallen war hero, lifted his head at once.
Clearly affronted.
He let out a loud, indignant aw—aw, somewhere between a protest and a formal objection, as though the situation had been grossly misrepresented in official records.
"Oh?" Mira folded her arms. "Is that so?"
He pushed himself up onto his elbows, chest still pressed to the ground, and huffed sharply. The sound carried weight. Argumentative weight.
She tilted her head. "You're saying you allowed me to win?"
He blinked.
"That's not convincing."
With a low grumble, he surged upright and shook himself out, his thick coat rippling as though to demonstrate that he had, in fact, been conserving energy rather than losing it.
The movement alone would have sent most people scrambling backward.
Mira didn't move.
"You realize," she continued conversationally, stepping closer, "that if anyone saw this, they'd start bringing you treats instead of avoiding eye contact."
Boreas nudged her shoulder with his heavy snout, the gesture surprisingly gentle for a creature built like a siege weapon. His dark eyes fixed on her with unmistakable insistence.
She laughed—soft, unguarded—and reached over to scratch behind his ear, fingers sinking into the dense fur there.
"Don't argue with me," she added, still smiling. "You were the one who insisted on setting the pace today. I was perfectly happy with something less… heroic."
Boreas huffed in response, a sound somewhere between a snort and a sigh, before rolling slightly onto his side and stretching out one enormous paw as if to emphasize his point. His tail thumped lazily against the grass, once, then again, betraying his complete satisfaction with both the run and the attention.
"Yes, yes," Mira said indulgently, giving his ear another scratch. "I see you're very proud of yourself."
The dog let out a quieter aw in reply, eyes slipping half-closed as he basked in the moment, and for a brief, unguarded stretch of time, the formidable protector and the woman beside him looked perfectly at ease, sharing a companionship that required no translation at all.
The moment of quiet was interrupted by the familiar vibration of her phone.
The sharp hum against the stone bench beside her was enough to cut cleanly through the morning stillness.
Boreas lifted his head immediately.
"Relax," Mira murmured, reaching for the device. "If it were a threat, you'd know before I did."
He watched anyway, golden eyes tracking every movement.
Mira glanced at the screen and smiled faintly before answering, already knowing who it was without needing confirmation.