Bonds

-Maya's POV-

The knocking continued, a persistent hammering that was starting to grate on my nerves. This wasn't the time for unexpected visitors, not with everything happening, Just as I was about to tell Ivan to ignore it, the sound of the front door swinging open sliced through the tense silence. A mufled exchange of words followed, then a high-pitched voice, laced with annoyance, cut through the air. "Get out of my way!"

I let out a me na I groan. The last person I needed to see right now was Miranda. My wolf, already on high alert from the chaotic events of the night, perked up at the sound of her voice. My claws felt like they were itching to extend from my fingertips.

Ivan let out a low groan beside me, mirroring my own frustration. Miranda pushed past the bewildered-looking police officer who had answered the door. She looked like a mess, her designer clothes wrinkled and her normally styled hair hanging limp around her shoulders. But it wasn't just her appearance that threw me off. There was a frantic edge to her eyes, a desperation that I hadn't seen before.

"Miranda, what are you doing here?" Ivan asked, his voice laced with a mixture of annoyance and concern.

She ignored him completely, her icy gaze landing directly on me. "You f**g little b**h," she spat, her voice tight with barely concealed fury.

"Miranda," Ivan growled, his voice a low rumble. This time, she couldn't ignore him. She whipped her head towards him, her eyes blazing.

The remaining police officers exchanged wary glances, unsure of whether to intervene. The tension in the room was thick enough. to cut with a knife.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to step forward. "Haven't you caused enough drama for one night? What more do you want?" My voice came out calmer than I felt. Inside, however, I was fuming. Couldn't this woman see that we were dealing with a serious situation here? Did she have to make everything about her?

"Oh, please shut up," she snapped. "You think you can take him away from me? Well, you're wrong!"

I was not in the mood to play dumb so I crossed my arms defensively. "I have no interest in Alex, and I don't know why you came to my father's house, but I suggest you leave because I won't let anyone hold me down this time."

My words seemed to register with her for a split second. Surprise flickered across her face, then a cn ng glint replaced it. She finally turned her attention to Ivan, "You know? That they were married?"

A dark look crossed his face, "And I'm realizing now that you knew too and you didn't tell me," he said, his voice low and dangerous.Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

"1-1-" she stammered, momentarily flustered.

Before she could continue, I cut her off. I'd had enough of her games. "Please leave, Miranda. We are already dealing with so much," I sighed, my voice laced with exhaustion.

11:34 Fri, 21 Jun Chapter 31

As if just realizing the state of the house for the first time, she glanced around at the overturned furniture and scatter e d papers: Her expression remained unreadable for a beat, then she turned back to us, her focus back on Ivan.

"Can't you see her for what she is?" she screeched. "She's a manipulator and she's trying to turn you against me!" Her voice was laced with a strange desperation, a hint of hysteria creeping in around the edges.

"This isn't about me," I said firmly. "This is about my father. He's been arrested and we're trying to figure out what's going on."

A flicker of something akin to fear crossed her face for a brief moment, then it was masked by a sneer. "Well, good luck with that," she spat, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And Ivan, don't let her fool you."

He let out a sigh, "That's enough. You need to leave."

"No, Ivan. You need to listen to me! This woman, she's not who she seems. She's playing you."

"Miranda!" He snapped, his voice laced with a rare anger I hadn't seen directed at anyone before. "Leave Amaya alone and you've overstayed your welcome. You weren't even invited in the first place."

Her defiance faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of hurt that quickly morphed back into anger. "Don't you get it? She's trying to break us up! Can't you see what's happening right in front of you?" She gestured wildly between me and Ivan.

"There's nothing happening,," I said firmly, stepping forward to stand beside Ivan. "Your accusations are ridiculous." Internally, however, a flicker of annoyance sparked. Is this who Alex really chose to be with?

"Ridiculous?" She scoffed, her voice rising with each word. "Don't insult my intelligence. The way you two look at each other - it's obvious there's something going on."

"Look: There is nothing between me and Alex. Like you told me, whatever happened between us in the past and nothing is going to change that. Your jealousy is clouding your judgment."

"Jealousy?" she shrieked, her voice cracking with a hint of hysteria. "Don't you dare play innocent with me!

"My past with Alex is exactly that. The past. It has nothing to do with me and Ivan."

"But it does!" she insisted, turning back to her brother. "Can't you see that? She's using you to get to me so she can worm her way back into Alex's life. Don't let her manipulate you!"

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "It's not my fault that you are paranoid. He's my past, and that's not going to change."

Ivan remained silent throughout our exchange, his gaze flickering between us. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Just as she opened her mouth to retort, I cut her off. "Look, Miranda," I said, my voice firm. "I understand that you care about Ivan, but this is not the way to handle things. Showing up here unannounced, causing a scene - it's not helping anyone. If you truly care about him, then you'll leave and let us deal with what's going on."

A flicker of something akin to defeat crossed her face for a moment, then she straightened her shoulders, a defiant glint returning to her eyes. "Fine," she spat, her voice laced with barely concealed anger. "But you listen to me good, Amaya. Don't think you've won here. I'm not going anywhere, and I'll be watching you. Don't you dare try to take them away from me."

With that final threat hanging in the air, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the house, slamming the front door behind her with a resounding bang. The sound echoed through the tense silence, leaving a heavy weight in its wake.

Silence descended, thick and heavy. He remained frozen for a beat, his gaze fixed on the empty doorway. Then, slowly, he turned to me, his face etched with a mixture of guilt and frustration.

H

"Amaya, I-" he started, his voice rough. He ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. I simply shaak my head, a sigh escaping my lips. It wasn't a dramatic sigh, filled with theatrical despair. It was a tired, weary sigh, the kind that comes from dealing with one too many curveballs.

"Why does the drama never end?" I asked, the question more rhetorical than anything. My voice was quiet, devoid of anger, but laced with a heavy dose of exhaustion.

He winced, his shoulders slumping slightly. He knew exactly what I meant. "I'm so sorry," he finally said, his voice sincere. "I know this isn't the time for her drama, especially with everything going on with your father."

I offered him a small, tired smile. "It's okay," I mumbled, more for his benefit than my own. The truth was, I was beyond caring about Miranda's antics at this point. He hesitated for a moment, then took a tentative step towards me. "Look," he said, his voice low, "what she said about you and him... there's nothing to it, right?"

His question hung in the air, a silent plea for reassurance. I met his gaze, my eyes searching his. "Of course not: Like I said, its my past."

A flicker of relief crossed his face, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Right. We still need to meet up with-"

His sentence was cut short by a sharp ringing slicing through the tense silence.

The sound made me remember that some officers were still here and they had witnessed everything. One of them answered the phone.

He spoke for a few seconds then said something to his counterpart. One of the officers rs who had om remained by the doorway stepped forward with a grim expression. In a swift, practiced movement, he grabbed my arm, effectively pulling me away from Ivan.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I stammered, my voice laced with confusion and a rising sense of panic. "What's going on?"

The officer's face remained impassive. "Amaya Stone," he said, his voice clipped and official. "You are under arrest for involvement in money laundering activities."