Chapter 3: The Gentle Storm
1000 Words
Lillian stormed through the corridor, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. Her face still burned, her pulse still raced—not because of Aaron, but because of Jace.
The way he had leaned in, the way he had looked at her, the way she had almost—
No. Absolutely not.
She huffed, running a hand through her hair, frustrated beyond words. Just when she thought she could handle these damn Alphas, they had to go and—
"Lillian?"
She nearly jumped at the soft voice behind her. Turning abruptly, she found herself staring up at Ryker.
His dark brown hair was slightly tousled, and the glasses perched on his nose reflected the dim light of the hallway. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and unlike his brothers, who carried themselves with arrogance, Ryker stood with quiet patience—like he wasn’t sure if he should be here.
Lillian groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What do you want?"
Ryker blinked, adjusting his glasses nervously. "You look… upset."
"No, really?" she deadpanned, crossing her arms. "What gave it away? The fact that I just stormed out of a room, or the murderous aura?"
He hesitated, looking genuinely thoughtful. "Both?"
Lillian let out an exasperated sigh. "Why are you even talking to me?"
Ryker frowned, shifting awkwardly. "Because… you look like you need someone to talk to?" His voice was soft, like he wasn’t sure if she’d snap at him for saying it.
Lillian wanted to snap at him. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone because she was still flustered from what had just happened. She wanted to lash out because she was frustrated and irritated, and—
But then he gave her this look.
Not a smirk, not a knowing glance like Jace. Not cold dismissal like Theo. Just… genuine concern.
And for some reason, that only irritated her more.
She huffed, turning away from him and striding toward the garden. He followed, silently, like some lost puppy.
"What are you doing?" she snapped.
He blinked. "Walking?"
Lillian threw her hands in the air. "Obviously! But why are you following me?"
"You didn’t say I couldn’t," he said simply.
She stared at him, dumbfounded. "That’s your logic?"
Ryker nodded.
Lillian groaned. "You’re impossible."
Silence.
Then—
"Do you… want some water?" he asked hesitantly.
Lillian turned slowly to face him, incredulous. "Water?"
He adjusted his glasses again, looking slightly flustered now. "It usually helps when people are stressed… I-I can get you some if you want."
Lillian blinked. For a moment, she was speechless. Of all the things his brothers would have done—Theo would have ignored her, Jace would have teased her—Ryker was offering her water.
She opened her mouth to say something sarcastic but hesitated. He was just too damn genuine. Too awkward, too polite, too innocent for her to vent all her anger on.
Instead, she let out a breath, rubbing her temples. "No, Ryker, I don’t need water."
"...Juice?"
She turned and shot him a glare.
He immediately shut up.
But there was the smallest, tiniest twitch at the corner of her lips.
The garden was bathed in silver moonlight, the soft hum of crickets filling the silence between them. Lillian stood near the pond, arms crossed, her earlier irritation ebbing away as she watched the water ripple gently.
Beside her, Ryker stood quietly, hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on something in the pond. Unlike his brothers, he didn’t press for conversation, didn’t tease her, didn’t try to pry into her thoughts.
He just… stood there.
And somehow, that made it easier to breathe.
Lillian’s eyes followed the direction of his gaze, and that’s when she noticed them—frogs. A few of them sat lazily on the rocks, their throats puffing in and out. One made a sudden splash, diving into the water, sending ripples across the surface.
Ryker let out a small chuckle.
Lillian raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. "You like frogs?"
He nodded, adjusting his glasses. "They’re interesting."
She smirked slightly, shifting her weight to one foot. "That’s a weird thing to find interesting."
Ryker shrugged. "Maybe."
Silence settled between them again, but this time, it wasn’t awkward. Lillian found herself oddly comfortable. There was no expectation to speak, no tension, no battle of wills—just the stillness of the night, the soft croaks of the frogs, and the quiet presence of Ryker beside her.
Then, unexpectedly, he spoke. "Did you know some frogs can change their color to blend in?"
Lillian turned to him, intrigued. "Like chameleons?"
"Kind of," Ryker said, his voice carrying a hint of enthusiasm now. "But it’s more about temperature and mood rather than camouflage."
A smirk tugged at Lillian’s lips. "So you’re telling me frogs have mood swings?"
Ryker actually smiled—a small, genuine one. "I guess you could say that."
Lillian huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. "That’s oddly fascinating."
Ryker nodded. "I like learning random things like that."
"Me too," she admitted. "Did you know witches used to believe frogs were messengers of spirits?"
His eyes flickered with interest. "Really?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Some thought they carried spells, others thought they were omens. Depends on the kind of magic, I guess."
Ryker tilted his head slightly. "So… are these frogs telling you something?"
Lillian smirked, glancing back at the pond. "Maybe. Or maybe they’re just eavesdropping."
He let out a soft chuckle. "Nosy little things."
For a moment, they just looked at each other. And in that moment, Lillian realized something—she didn’t mind Ryker’s company.
No teasing, no power struggles, no expectations. Just quiet understanding.
And oddly enough, she kind of liked it.
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- Writer
