Page 15 of Doyle

The enormity of everything I'd been through, and everything that lay ahead, felt overwhelming.

And yet, amidst the fear and uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope—a fragile, precious thing that Doyle had ignited within me.

I finished the milk, rinsed the glass, and put it away. As I stood there in the quiet kitchen, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

I wasn't sure what the future held, but I knew one thing: I was no longer a prisoner and I had…Doyle. And that was a start.

After washing the glass, I headed back upstairs. As I reached the floor where my room was, I paused by the doorway and glanced at Doyle's room.

I wondered if he was still awake. And if he was, would he mind my company?

The thought of seeing him, of talking to him, was comforting. Just then, I heard a giggle.

Turning, I saw a little girl peering at me from the stairwell. She had bright eyes and an impish smile that reminded me of Doyle’s warmth.

"Hey there. What's your name?" I asked, recalling Doyle mentioning that Zane had two kids.

"Ariel," she said, her voice full of curiosity.

"Ariel, there you are," came a grumpy voice from the stairwell.

Zane soon appeared, his expression stern. The lead alpha paused, taking in the scene with a scrutinizing, almost unfriendly look.

His protective stance made sense, but it still stung. He looked at me as if I had done or was about to do something wrong.

Trying to understand his perspective, I reminded myself that if a pack member brought a complete stranger back to his home, he’d be worried too.

So, I tried not to take offense.

"Who's he, Dad?" Ariel asked, looking up at Zane for an answer.

"I'm Michael," I whispered, feeling a bit self-conscious under Zane's gaze. To Zane, I said, "I couldn't sleep, so I poured myself a glass of milk in the kitchen. I hope that's okay."

"That's fine," Zane said shortly. "Come along, Ariel. Back to bed."

He gave me a curt nod before gently guiding his daughter back down the hallway.

As they disappeared around the corner, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

The encounter left me feeling more like an intruder than ever, but I couldn't blame Zane for being protective of his family.

Turning back towards Doyle's room, I hesitated for a moment before walking up to his door.

I raised my hand to knock but stopped short, second-guessing myself. What if he was asleep?

What if he needed his rest after the day's events? But the thought of returning to my too-big, too-comfortable bed alone was unbearable.

Before I could make up my mind, the door creaked open. Doyle stood there, shirtless and looking as though he’d just woken up.

His hair was tousled, and his eyes were bleary, but they softened when he saw me.

"Michael? Is everything okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

"I couldn't sleep," I admitted, feeling a bit foolish. "I tried, but it’s too quiet. Too comfortable."

He chuckled softly and stepped aside, allowing me to enter.

"Comfortable, huh? That’s a new one,” Doyle said.

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