Chapter 6: Are you mad?

At some point, the dining room had fallen quiet. When he looked up, he found someone standing at the doorway, smiling directly at him.

Charles.

The bastard’s grin curled higher when he caught Maverick’s eye. Behind his glasses, his eyes crinkled with mischief as he waved, mouthing, “We’ll see each other again.”

Maverick’s eye twitched.

He watched as Charles and Tyson exited the restaurant. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, their figures were clear as day. Tyson threw an arm around Charles’ shoulders, his fingers playing with the silver chain on Charles’ glasses. God knows what Tyson said, but Charles elbowed him hard in the gut. Tyson only laughed and pulled him back into a loose hug.

Even their damn shadows on the ground matched like puzzle pieces—despite the fact that Charles was an Alpha now.

“Finished watching?” came Amelia’s voice from across the table.

Startled, Maverick looked back at her, his body snapping upright. “S-Sorry, Captain!”

Amelia stared at him for a beat. “We don’t do that at home, Maverick. Relax. I just have one question for you.”

Maverick met her eyes, posture unconsciously straightening into a textbook military stance. He stood tall, nearly 1.9 meters of serious intent.

“Was what you said to me the other day true?”

Without hesitation, he nodded. “Yes, Captain. Every word.”

Amelia gave him a curt nod. “Alright. Then we’ll talk more when we’re back.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

She walked up to him, curled her hand into a fist, and tapped it lightly against his chest. “You’d better be damn clear with your explanation. I can’t cover your ass if things go sideways.”

“I understand.”

“Your room’s upstairs. Second floor. Turn left, middle door.” She turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. “Got plans?”

Maverick blinked. “No.”

“Good. Wait for me to get back—we’re going out for a bit.”

“Yes, Captain.”

.......

The restaurant door was still ajar, so Liam, sitting outside, could hear everything going on inside.

He heard footsteps approaching behind him. Turning his wheelchair, he glanced over his shoulder and saw her walking toward him.

Amelia stopped a few steps away, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Liam’s eyes held a strange, steady gentleness, like a deep current—inviting and quietly overwhelming.

“Amelia,” he called her name softly, like a secret.

“Hm?”

“Can you come closer?”

She stepped forward without hesitation.

“Not enough,” he murmured. “A little closer.”

Amelia didn’t understand his intention, but by then, it was too late—she’d already fallen into the calm pull of his gaze.

She moved again.

At the same time, Liam rolled his wheelchair forward.

They were close now. So close that when she looked down, she could feel the faint breeze of his lashes brushing as he blinked.

The moment she realized what she was feeling, the back of her neck tingled—her glands itching with a sudden, unbearable warmth. She wanted to cover it, but it would be too obvious. Tried to ignore it, but the sensation wouldn’t let up.

Eighty-seven percent compatibility. She bit down on the rising panic in her mind. And I’m not even in my Estrus Period yet… if it gets worse later—

The thought cut off abruptly.

Amelia’s eyes widened, stunned by her own reaction.

Liam watched the flickers of emotion chase across her face. Her ears, half-hidden beneath loose strands of hair, were turning red.

He tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” she said quickly. “What did you want to say?”

“My driver left earlier than expected,” Liam said mildly. “Can you take me back?”

“Of course.”

She moved behind the chair and began to push him toward the study on the first floor.

Compared to the sunlit living room they’d just left, the hallway was narrow and dim, lit only by a single warm overhead light.

Liam lowered his gaze, watching the sunlight fade off the velvet blanket covering his legs. His lips curved into a faint, unreadable smile—one dimple catching the amber glow like a shadow dipped in gold.

......

Later, as they pulled out of the Langley estate in a military jeep, Amelia cast a quick glance at his legs, still hidden beneath the blanket.

“Want to see for yourself?” Liam asked, his tone light. He’d clearly noticed.

Amelia didn’t answer right away. Then she looked forward again and said, firm and clear, “I told you before—I don’t care, and I meant it.”

The sun was harsh, even in the afternoon. She reached up and pulled off her sunglasses, letting them hang low on the bridge of her nose.

“And don’t test me again,” she added. “I agreed to this engagement two years ago, and I’m not backing out now.”

Liam’s voice softened, with a faint hint of wounded pride. “Because of the Langley family?”

Amelia turned her head, eyes sharp. “Then what about you? Are you going along with it because of the Windsors?”

It was the same question she’d wanted to ask two years ago—but Liam had been sent overseas before she entered military service, and the opportunity had never come.

He didn’t answer immediately. The car was silent except for the hum of the engine. Amelia gave him a glance, then turned her eyes back to the road and flicked on the turn signal.

Still no answer. She didn’t press.

The jeep bounced over a rugged, forested path, and she made no effort to slow down. The ride was jarring, but neither of them complained.

After ten minutes of twists and turns, the trees parted—and the ocean appeared before them, endless and shining in the sun. She parked the jeep near the edge of a cliff.

“Are you scared?” she asked, killing the engine and unbuckling her seatbelt.

“No.”

Liam’s profile caught the light as he turned to look at her. There was no guilt in his gaze, even though he’d been sneaking looks at her for a while now.

Their eyes met. Neither of them looked away.

Amelia tried to read his face—any crack in the mask, any hint of what he was really thinking beneath all that calm.

Liam, knowing exactly what she was searching for, simply looked back at her. Openly.

Liam’s gaze flicked toward the faint scars still visible on her chin. His fingers shifted slightly under the blanket on his lap.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

“What?”

He raised his hand just a little, not quite touching her—just gesturing. “Here,” he said softly, motioning toward her chin.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Amelia replied. Her eyes drifted from his face to the hand he had lifted. His skin was almost too pale, and the fine lines of his veins stood out faintly along the back of his hand.

Noticing her stare, Liam leaned forward slightly and asked, “Do you like my hand?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve looked at it a few times today.”

“You’ve been watching me?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Yeah.” He didn’t even hesitate. “I’ve been observing you.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to understand you, fiancée.”

The word came out of his mouth like it had a tail—deliberate, lingering.

Amelia looked away, flustered despite herself. “Oh yeah? What’ve you figured out so far?”

“You don’t like sweets, but you do like spicy food. You avoid onions and ginger, and you hate green peppers. But you really love cilantro. You never drink plain water—it has to have lemon. And if I’m not wrong, you always put exactly three slices in.”

He paused. Like he was waiting for a reaction.

When it didn’t come, he added quietly, “That’s not all.”

Amelia turned toward him slightly, arms folded. “Go on.”

“Are you mad?”

The way he said it—mild, testing—made her feel like he was doing it on purpose.

She liked things direct. Clear. Military-style. And Liam’s subtle little mind games were already starting to wear on her nerves.

In her head, she recalled what Knox once told her: Some Alphas are just too damn dangerous when they flirt like they want to be punished.

“Does my observation bother you?” Liam asked.

Snap—

Her brain froze for a second. The string in her head pulled taut again.

No way. Don’t tell me it’s starting again.

“If I made you uncomfortable… I’m sorry,” he said, head slightly bowed. His hand curled against the blanket. “Don’t be mad at me, okay?”

Amelia stared at him. In that moment, she wanted to bully him.

“I’m not mad,” she said finally, keeping her tone brisk, composed. “I’m just wondering what else you’ve been observing.”

Liam’s grip relaxed slightly, and the tension in his shoulders eased.

He looked up again, his voice warmer this time. “Do you want to hear the rest?”

A small smirk tugged at Amelia’s mouth. She shifted, her body leaning back into the seat, one arm draped lazily over the open car window. The ocean breeze tousled her hair, and she asked, “And more?”

“There’s more,” Liam murmured. So much more. He thought it. I want to know everything about you.

“Alright,” Amelia said, voice light, amused. “Let’s hear it.”

The breeze slipped into the car like it had a mind of its own, lifting the strands of their hair and carrying Liam’s words straight into her ear, soft and quiet, like something secret.

“You can use a fork with either hand, but you still prefer your right.”

“Actually noticed that?”

Liam nodded again. “Between Charles and Tyson, you’re more partial to Charles.”

Amelia’s smile deepened. “Are you trying to stir up trouble?”

She leaned forward as she said it, pulling her arm back in from the window. With one hand, she untied the black hairband holding her hair together.

The wind seized its chance. Her loose, shoulder-length hair whipped around her face, hiding her eyes for a moment—and hiding something else, too.

Liam felt something shift in his chest. He didn’t respond right away.

She looked different like this. Unfiltered. Wild in a way that rattled something deep in him.

He never answered her last question.