Chapter 6 The Proposal
1644 Words
Christina's POV
"We need to talk."
He stood in front of me, his voice disturbingly calm—as if he were announcing the fridge had broken, not that I had thrown him onto a bed the night before.
Talk?
My brain instantly began sorting through possibilities. Talk about what? A debrief? A review? Was he proposing some kind of... "long-term s****l partnership"?
Well, considering how incredible he was in bed last night, being f**k buddies was honestly a tempting option. Oh god, could I please stop making bad decisions for once in my life?
But definitely not a proposal. That sort of thing only happens in soap operas written by people with hopelessly romantic minds.
Was he worried I'd cling to him?
After all,it was me who started this.
I was the one who dragged him out of the bar.
I was the one who opened the suite door.
I was the one who pinned him down without a second thought.
"Look," I said, adopting the most mature, responsible tone I could muster, "last night was a mistake. A reckless, impulsive, but... undeniably enjoyable mistake."
I tried not to look at his shoulders. Nor at his chest. Not at the water droplets sliding down his collarbone, tracing over sculpted muscle.Akira stirred inside me, unnervingly interested in this man's scent.
"I'm not going to ask you to take responsibility. I won't call you crying about emotional trauma. I'm not that kind of girl."
He didn't say anything. But his expression looked slightly annoyed, like I was the one who'd slept with him and was now trying to make a quick getaway.
Seeing no reaction, I turned to the door—aiming for a graceful exit, complete with a closure monologue.
But just as my hand reached the doorknob, a warm, wet palm landed on the back of mine.
I froze. Slowly, I turned around.
He was looking at me with an expression I couldn't place,somewhere between surprise and... seriousness.
"You don't remember me?" he asked softly.
I blinked, caught off guard. I answered quickly, almost defensively. "Of course I do. You're my new neighbor."
Technically true. Totally accurate.
What I didn't say and never would,was that even without those trivial interactions, I remembered him.
That face was unforgettable.
Or, more precisely, that face standing in front of me in just a white towel, with water dripping down those abs... yeah. Not something easily erased from memory.
I swallowed hard.
The trick was, don't look directly at him. Like an eclipse.
Too bad that strategy had completely failed.
Worse still, even though I was fully dressed and he was practically naked, somehow, under his gaze, I felt like the one who was completely exposed.
I tried to speak—to say something, anything to shift the focus.
But he didn't press further. He just stood there, watching me, as if waiting for the moment my real reaction would finally come.
The silence stretched.
Then he said, "It's fine. Doesn't matter."
I blinked. What?
"Can I go now?" I asked dryly. His hand still hadn't moved.
He looked at me again, then said,"Will you marry me?"
...
What?!
"You're not serious." I finally found my voice.
"I'm completely serious," he replied, as if he were announcing a quarterly financial report. "I've just returned from Europe. I've been Alpha of my pack for some time now, but I still don't have a Luna."
He stepped closer, his wolf's energy radiating power that made Akira whimper inside me.
"Unmated Alphas are considered volatile, aggressive. But with a mate and cubs?" A cold smile touched his lips. "People see us as grounded. Cautious. The council prefers their pack leaders... domesticated."
I fell silent.
Two days ago, I vowed I'd bring home someone better than Niall.
Someone impressive enough to silence my parents.
Now, the universe had sent an answer—just with a thick layer of irony.
But I knew.
Marriage shouldn't be like this.
I'd already lived through a loveless engagement once.
All it left was a house full of silence, hollow intimacy, and a slow, brutal erosion of my self-respect.
I opened my mouth to say no.
But at that moment, my phone rang.
The sharp ringtone cut through the quiet like a knife.
I glanced at the screen and felt like a bomb had exploded in my chest.
Franklin Vance.
My father.
The Alpha of The Crescent pack, whose word was absolute in our household.
I looked at his face, familiar yet distant, then back down at my phone.
And finally, I said the words,"I can't accept."
I walked out of the hotel suite, the ringtone still shrieking.
I answered, not because I wanted to, but because I needed.
"Where the hell are you?" My father's voice was angry."Your actions reflect on this entire pack. Do you understand the strategic liability you've created?"
Ah, there it was. Not "are you okay?" but "how have you damaged our investment portfolio?"
"I'll be there soon," I said coldly, hanging up before he could start calculating my depreciated daughter-value.
I gave the driver my parents' address and collapsed into the backseat, like someone bracing for a public execution.
Okay. Let's get this over with.
My neighbor, aka my one-night stand, was probably insane.
But I still had a drop of alcohol-induced courage left in my blood. The old Christina, desperate for pack approval, hadn't crept back in yet. I had to move fast.
The pack house sat on the centre of The Crescent territory, in the kind of suburban enclave that didn't welcome anyone who couldn't trace their bloodline back three generations.No human visitors. No rogues. Just an elegantly worded "pure blood only" policy.
At the wrought-iron gate, I took a deep breath. I felt like a boxer entering the ring. Shoulders squared. Chin up. Emotional armor locked in place.
The moment I entered the living room, I could sense the ambush.
My father, High and mighty Alpha Franklin, sat alone in his leather chair, wearing the same expression he probably used when commanding subordinate wolves.
Beside him, my mother, Caroline, with her perfect hair and perfectly aligned pearl necklace, smiled the way a doctor does when saying, "The cancer's spread."
To their left, Niall sat on the sofa, all solemn and brooding, as if waiting for a pack tribunal to direct his next pose.
And on the right?
Beatrice, obviously.
All we were missing was a silver stake and an executioner.
This was a trial.
I was the defendant.
And the verdict had already been written.
Father struck first.
"What took you so long? This pack doesn't run on your schedule." His voice was cold.
"Traffic," I lied.
If I told them I'd just escaped from a towel-clad Alpha proposing marriage, they'd have me locked in silver chains.
"So? Why am I here?" My tone was iced over.
No one answered.
Not until Niall stood, a bandage still across his forehead.
The sight of him looking vaguely wounded brought me a small, grim satisfaction.
"I had your things removed from my pack house," he said slowly, nudging a small suitcase with his foot. "Everything's there."
I stared at it.
A single carry-on suitcase. Four years of engagement, and all I had to show for it was luggage small enough for the overhead compartment on budget airlines.
Perfect metaphor for my importance in his life.
Rage rose in my throat, but I swallowed it.
"Thanks," I said flatly. "That's... thoughtful."
I snatched up the ridiculous little suitcase and turned to leave.
Come on. No one calls a full-blown family meeting just to return a suitcase. I knew better. This was about humiliation. About putting me in my place.
They were the real family.
I was always the outsider, tolerated only when they needed someone to blame.
"Wait," my father said.
I paused. Didn't turn around.
He folded his arms and smiled.
"Now that Beatrice is back," he said, "and since you and Niall have broken up, we need to address the pack's public position."
I gave a short, humorless laugh. Turned around slowly, letting the sarcasm drip from my lips.
"By all means. Plan whatever you want. It's not like you've ever asked for my opinion before."
"We used to ask," he shot back, "back when you were still the sensible daughter. The one with potential."
He stepped closer.
"You're too emotional, Christina. Your insecurity made you paranoid—accusing Niall, trying to control him. You rejected your fated mate, and that's what destroyed the relationship."
His words were blades.
Light in tone.
Ruthless in effect.
"So this is on you. And you'll make that clear to the other packs. Tell them you fell for someone else. That's why you rejected your mate bond."
I froze.
Something ripped open inside my chest, like they'd torn it apart with their bare hands.
I looked at them, all of them—my parents, Niall, Beatrice.
So calm. So deliberate.
Like a script they'd rehearsed for weeks.
What had I done to deserve this?
Where had I gone so wrong?
I glanced at Niall, hoping for something. I don't know what exactly. A shred of decency? A moment of courage? But there was nothing. Just that entitled look staring back at me, unapologetic and self-satisfied.
This was absolutely insane.
"No, I refuse to make that statement!" I exploded. "Niall and Beatrice's affair caused me unbearable pain, weakened my wolf. Akira and I can barely sense scents anymore. You both know that means I'll have difficulty bonding with any new mate."
I was ready to storm out.
But that's when my father finally stood.
Like a judge preparing to read the sentence.
"You don't have to worry about finding someone new," he said with absolute finality.
"We've already made arrangements. As long as you're still part of this pack, you have value, don't you?"
- Writer
