62. Mireille

He’s alive. Every time I glanced at him he’s still there.

Of course he is, it’s stupid to think he’s going to vanish from my sight again, but I can’t help my heart racing each time I allow myself a look.

The moonshine has been dished out, people are merrily slurring, wrapping arms around each other and making plans for the gold they’re going to be swimming in after I get back home. That’s all fine.

However, I make sure to look each man square in the eye as we dish out every measure. They all say “thank you Luna,” they all nod politely. That doesn’t surprise me. They all paid Raze respect to his face too, yet watched his evisceration without issue.

It’s men like Ryan I’m studying. He swore blind to me in that room that he is going to do whatever it takes to make Hope happy. She was his world, every minute of his life, for her happiness. All the promises a girl would love to hear her mate make.

So why am I overhearing him talking about setting up some kind of fucking boxing, bettin