Mira's POV
The nightmares come again around midnight.
Mira jolts awake gasping, her body drenched in sweat. In her dream, Ronan had her pinned. His hands were around her throat and she couldn't breathe and no one was coming to save her because she was just an Omega and Omegas don't matter and—
She sits up, her heart pounding so hard it might break her ribs.
The darkness of her room feels suffocating. She needs air. Needs space. Needs to get away from the walls that feel like they're closing in.
Mira gets out of bed and moves silently through the pack house. Most warriors sleep during the night shift. The hallways are empty and quiet. Perfect for a girl trying not to be noticed.
The kitchen is dark when she arrives. She just needs water. Just needs to rinse the taste of fear from her mouth and go back to bed and pretend she's fine when really she's falling apart.
She reaches for a cup.
Light flickers on.
Mira spins around, her entire body tensing for a fight that won't come, because she can't fight. She can only run or freeze, and freezing is what she does best.
Ezra stands on the other side of the kitchen, his hands up in a gesture of surrender. He's wearing loose pants but no shirt, his powerful frame bare in the soft lamplight. He looks like he just woke up too.
They both freeze.
"I'm sorry," Mira whispers. "I didn't know anyone was here. I'll go."
She turns to leave but Ezra speaks before she reaches the door.
"Wait." His voice is gentle. Non-threatening. "Would you like some tea? I was making chamomile. It helps with sleep."
Mira stops. She doesn't turn back around, just stands there with her hand still on the doorframe, her mind racing through her options.
Trust him or run.
Those are the only choices.
"Chamomile?" she asks quietly.
"It calms the mind," Ezra says. She can hear him moving around the kitchen, the soft sounds of him preparing the tea. "Helps chase away nightmares."
She hesitates for what feels like forever. Then, against every instinct that tells her to get away from any Alpha, she nods.
"Okay," she says.
They sit at opposite ends of the kitchen table in silence.
The tea steams between them, releasing a scent that smells like flowers and earth and something that feels almost like safety. Mira wraps her small hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into her cold fingers.
Ezra doesn't try to fill the quiet. Just drinks his tea and reads something from a book he brought to the table. Like this is normal. Like sitting with a terrified Omega in the middle of the night is just a regular Tuesday.
After a while, Mira speaks.
"Why are you being nice to me?"
Ezra looks up from his book. His silver eyes are thoughtful in the dim light.
"Because you deserve kindness," he says simply.
"That's not an answer," Mira says. She takes a sip of tea. It tastes like calm. "Omegas don't deserve anything. We're just... we exist to serve."
The words come out flat. Like a fact she learned a long time ago and has accepted as truth.
Ezra's entire body goes rigid.
His eyes flash silver. Actually flash. Like his animal is surging forward to take over.
"Who told you that?" His voice drops to something deadly quiet.
"Ronan," Mira whispers. "He said it constantly. That Omegas exist to serve. That we don't have value beyond what we can do for others. That wanting anything for ourselves is selfish and wrong."
Ezra sets down his tea cup with careful precision. If he'd thrown it, if he'd let any of his rage show, Mira would have run. But he doesn't. He just sits there with his hands flat on the table, breathing like he's trying to control something dangerous.
"Ronan is a monster," Ezra says. His voice is perfectly calm but underneath it, she can feel the rage. The violence. The hunger for vengeance. "He's a monster who deserves to die screaming for what he did to you."
Something cracks inside Mira's chest.
Just a tiny break. Just the smallest fracture in the walls she's spent three years building to protect herself.
"He's—" she starts, but the words won't come. The words are stuck behind something huge and painful and impossible to swallow.
"He's nothing," Ezra says, his voice still controlled. "He's a coward who hurt someone defenseless because it made him feel powerful. And I swear to you, Mira, when you're strong enough, when you're ready, we're going to hunt him down together and he's going to pay for every single thing he did to you."
Mira's hands start to shake.
The tea cup slips from her fingers and shatters on the stone floor.
And something inside her that's been held in for three years, something that's been locked away and screaming to get out, finally breaks free.
She starts to cry.
Not delicate tears. Not quiet sobbing. Huge, gulping sobs that tear out of her throat like they're being ripped from her soul. Her entire body shakes with the force of it. She sounds like an animal in pain.
Ezra moves immediately.
He doesn't grab her. Doesn't force her into anything. He just stands up and moves slowly around the table, keeping his movements visible so she knows what he's doing.
"Can I hold you?" he asks softly.
Mira can't answer. Can't breathe. Can't do anything but cry.
He takes that as permission.
He gathers her into his arms carefully, like she's made of glass. Like she might shatter if he holds her too tight. And Mira clings to him because he's the only solid thing in a world that's been nothing but pain and terror and broken promises.
"I have you," Ezra murmurs into her hair. His voice is rough with emotion. "You're safe now. I promise you're safe."
"I hate him," Mira sobs. "I hate him so much. I hate what he did to me. I hate that I'm broken. I hate that I can't even—"
She doesn't finish. Just continues to cry, her whole body convulsing with the force of years of held-back tears.
Ezra holds her through all of it. Doesn't try to make it better. Doesn't try to stop her. Just holds her and lets her fall apart completely.
The kitchen fills with the sound of her breaking.
And slowly, gradually, the sobs start to subside. Her breathing becomes less ragged. Her hands stop shaking quite so badly.
But she doesn't let go of him. Doesn't pull away. Just stays pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing.
"Why would you want me?" she whispers. "I'm broken. I'm damaged. I'm everything you said I wasn't. I'm weak."
"You're not weak," Ezra says. He pulls back just enough to look at her face. His hand comes up and gently wipes away her tears. "Do you know what it took for you to survive what you survived? The strength required to wake up every morning knowing you'd be hurt? That's not weakness, Mira. That's incredible strength."
She wants to believe him. Wants to let his words heal something inside her.
"I don't know how to be anything other than afraid," she admits.
"Then we'll figure it out together," Ezra says. "I'll teach you that you have power. That you deserve to take up space. That you're worth protecting."
He takes her hand gently and leads her to sit back down.
They sit together in the quiet kitchen, the broken tea cup forgotten on the floor. Mira's head rests on the table while Ezra sits beside her, his hand never leaving hers.
For the first time since Ronan took over Silverpine, Mira allows herself to hope.
Just a little.
Just enough to believe that maybe, somehow, she might actually be okay.