Chapter 3: "She's Still Off-Limits"

Mia's POV

The morning rush is winding down when Sophia bursts through the door like she's hunting something. Her eyes lock onto Ethan behind the counter, and she freezes mid-step. Her mouth opens slightly, closes, then her gaze snaps to my face.

Oh shit.

She crosses the café in three strides and grabs my wrist, yanking me toward the storage room corner. Hard.

"Have you completely lost it?" Her voice stays low but there's anger underneath. "That's Ethan Thornfield."

I pull my wrist free. "He needed help."

"Help?" She looks at me like I've grown a second head. "He's the Alpha King's son. Even without his wolf—"

"Especially without his wolf." The words come out colder than I mean them to. "He's vulnerable now. The Council threw him away."

Sophia glances at Ethan, who's still wiping down the espresso machine like we're not having this conversation five feet away. When she turns back, her eyes have narrowed. "Or so he claims. You actually buy that story? A prince just happens to show up bleeding on your doorstep? The one person who..."

"Who what?"

She stops. Chooses her words carefully. "Who has history with him. Don't you think that's a little too perfect?"

She's not wrong to be suspicious. Any rational person would be. But watching Ethan serve coffee in that stupid apron, watching him shake when I get too close, watching him sleep in my attic like some stray cat I dragged in off the street... it doesn't feel like a conspiracy.

It feels like payback. And I'm enjoying every second.

"I know what I'm doing, Soph."

She stares at me for a long beat, then sighs. Her hand lands on my shoulder, voice softening. "Just be careful, okay? Things aren't always what they look like."

I nod, but my decision's already made.

She leaves with one last suspicious look at Ethan. He glances up, their eyes meet for exactly one second, then he goes back to the counter.

I return to clearing tables like nothing happened.

---

The lunch rush comes and goes. I'm stacking dirty plates when the door opens and my father walks in.

My hands still. Matthew's eyes sweep the café, landing on Ethan at the espresso machine for several long seconds before finding me. He walks over, face serious but voice gentle.

"Mia, sweetheart. We need to talk."

I set the plates down. Cross my arms. "If this is about Ethan—"

He holds up a hand. "Word travels fast. The Council's asking questions."

My chin lifts. "Let them ask. Ethan's under my protection."

Matthew turns, looking past me toward Ethan. Ethan's wiping cups, movements smooth and practiced, not looking up. My father's expression shifts. Becomes thoughtful.

"Are you sure he needs protecting?" His voice drops lower. "Or are you the one being protected?"

I frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just be careful, sweetheart. Not everything is what it seems."

When he says this, his gaze moves back to Ethan. This time Ethan looks up. Their eyes meet. Something passes between them, some silent communication that lasts maybe two seconds before Ethan looks away.

I'm watching my father's face, so I completely miss it.

"Dad, I'm twenty-five. I can make my own choices."

He sighs and touches my head lightly. "I know you can. Just promise me you'll think this through. The Council isn't only asking questions. They're applying pressure. Economic pressure."

My chest tightens but I keep my face hard. "Silver Creek can handle it."

He studies me. "I hope you're right."

He turns to leave, pausing at the door. Looks back at Ethan once more and gives a slight nod. Ethan returns it.

I'm still watching my father leave, so again, I don't see the exchange.

Dad's worried. I get that. But he doesn't understand. This isn't about Ethan needing protection. This is about me finally having the upper hand. Finally being the one who decides. Five years ago, I was the one who walked away humiliated. Now? Now he's sleeping in my attic.

Six PM. The last customer leaves and I flip the sign to closed. Ethan's in the back cleaning the espresso machine. I sit at the bar and pull out my phone.

At least ten people took photos of Ethan today. The news is spreading whether I like it or not. Might as well control the story.

I open social media and start typing.

Post: "Excited to announce that my distant cousin is helping out at Moonbean for a while! Welcome to Silver Creek, cuz. 😊☕"

I attach a photo I snapped this morning. Ethan at the counter in his Good Boy apron, focused on pouring latte art.

My finger hovers over Post for one second. Deep breath. Click.

I flip the phone facedown on the counter and close my eyes.

Ten seconds later, my phone starts buzzing. Once. Twice. Then it doesn't stop.

I pick it up. Twenty comments already. Thirty. The screen won't stop lighting up.

"OMG IS THAT THE ETHAN THORNFIELD???"

"Since when is Mia Bennett related to royalty??"

"Wait I thought he was exiled or something?"

"He looks different. Less princely, more... domestic? 👀"

"Still hot though 🔥🔥🔥"

"'Good Boy' apron I'M SCREAMING 😂"

"Distant cousin? Yeah right. We all know what that means 😏"

"Lucky bitch getting to boss around a prince"

I scroll through the flood, a smile pulling at my lips.

Five years ago, he was untouchable. The golden prince, the Alpha King's heir, standing next to me under the Moonstone while I failed. While I became the broken one. Everyone pitied me. Whispered about me. Poor Mia Bennett, the Beta's daughter who couldn't awaken her wolf.

Now? Now he makes my coffee every morning. Wears my apron with my words on his chest. Trembles when I get too close. And everyone's watching him serve me.

This is what power feels like.

"Mia?"

Ethan's voice comes from behind me. I lock my phone fast and turn. He's standing at the storage room door, apron off, just a plain t-shirt now.

"I finished cleaning. Need anything else?"

"No. Go rest."

He hesitates. "I saw you on your phone. Everything okay?"

"Just damage control. People were talking. Now they have an official story."

A beat of silence. "Distant cousin."

"Got a problem with that?"

He shakes his head. "No. Thank you for covering for me."

He turns and heads upstairs. I open my phone again. The comment count's broken a hundred.

My smile deepens.

Two and a half hours later, I'm wiping down the last table when the door chime rings.

A man in civilian clothes walks in. Dark eyes, lean build, military posture. He scans the café like he's looking for threats.

"Heard the coffee here's good." He approaches the bar. "And that you've got a new barista."

I set down my cloth and move behind the counter, instantly alert. "We're closing soon. But I can make you something quick."

He sits. "Americano. Black."

His posture's too straight. Spine rigid. His words are clipped, efficient. Military for sure. And his eyes keep moving, searching for something.

I'm making the coffee when I hear footsteps on the stairs. Ethan appears, probably heard voices. The second he sees the man, his whole body goes still for a split second.

The man turns. Their eyes meet. The air gets heavy. The look between them lasts less than three seconds but feels loaded.

I notice something's wrong, but I can't read what.

"Mr. Thornfield." The man's voice is calm but there's weight behind it. "Didn't expect to see you in a place like this."

Ethan's voice comes out equally flat. "Life's full of surprises."

"Indeed. Surprised you're doing so well in such humble conditions."

I set the coffee in front of him, protective edge in my voice. "Ethan works here. Is there a problem?"

The man's expression softens as he looks at me. "No problem at all, Miss Bennett. Just surprised to see an old acquaintance."

He sips his coffee slowly. Ethan stays by the stairs, not approaching but not leaving either. I stand behind the bar, eyes moving between them.

The man stands and drops cash on the counter. "Good coffee. I'll be back."

He turns to me, voice dropping. "Take care of your cousin, Miss Bennett. Dangerous times we're in."

I frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He smiles, but it doesn't touch his eyes. "Just friendly advice. The Council has eyes everywhere."

The door chimes as he leaves. Ethan and I both stare after him. The café suddenly feels suffocating.

I spin to face Ethan. He's still by the stairs, expression carefully blank but I can see the tension in his shoulders.

"Who was that?"

He walks toward the bar, tone casual but forced. "Like he said. Old acquaintance from Royal Peaks."

"He seemed to know you pretty damn well."

Ethan starts collecting the man's cup, avoiding my eyes. "Royal Peaks isn't that big. Most people in the Council circles know each other."

I step closer, forcing him to look at me. "Ethan. He wasn't just an acquaintance. The way you two looked at each other..."

He finally meets my gaze. "Mia, I promise, he's not a threat. If anything, he's checking on me."

"Checking on you? For who?"

He hesitates. "People who care what happens to me."

He's lying. Or at least hiding something. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, how he dodges giving straight answers. But what can I do? Demand he spills everything? He's already lost it all. Maybe he's allowed some secrets.

Doesn't mean I have to trust him though.

I step back and cross my arms. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But if this old acquaintance brings trouble to my café, to my pack—"

"He won't. I swear."

"You better be right."

We stare at each other. The air is thick with things neither of us are saying. Ethan looks like he wants to say something, but instead he just nods.

"I'll go back upstairs. Good night, Mia."

"Good night."

He turns and climbs the stairs, faster than usual. I stand at the bar, staring at the spot where the stranger sat.