My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her

Chapter 546: Chapter 546 THE SQUARE AND THE MENACE (BONUS Chapter 5)

DANIEL’S POV

I was honestly convinced I was hearing things.

Ava had spent the entire week treating me as though I were part of the furniture, and now here she was, cheeks flushed, eyes shining like emeralds, grinning at me like I was the answer to every wish she’d ever made.

Before I could even begin to process this emotional whiplash, she snapped upright, her face shifting into an exaggeratedly serious mask.

“Right, sorry,” she mumbled. “My bad.”

Then she attempted a curtsy that would have been absurd even if she were sober, dipping into an over-the-top bow and sweeping her hand toward me with dramatic flair.

“Hello, future Alpha.”

She made it halfway through the gesture before her heel caught awkwardly beneath her, and all her usual grace vanished in an instant.

She started to pitch forward, but Matt swooped in, catching her by the waist and steadying her against him.

‘Nope,’ Thatcher growled, and I moved before I could even think.

One moment I was at the foot of the stairs, the next I was beside them, my hand closing around Ava’s forearm as I shot Matt a glare.

“Back away from her.”

My voice came out harsher than I meant, laced with enough command that everyone seemed to snap to attention by instinct.

Matt’s eyebrows rose. “Dude, she was falling.”

“I’ve got her.”

“I was just—”

“I said,” I bit out through clenched teeth, “I’ve got her.”

The Alpha in me wasn’t something I deliberately summoned. It was simply there, woven into my voice and the way I carried myself, and apparently tonight it had decided to make itself known.

Matt released Ava slowly, raising both hands.

I swept my gaze over the rest of them.

Bree had stopped laughing. Yvonne was suddenly very interested in the floor. Kevin and Bryce shared a look, then eyed the door like they were considering bolting back out into the night.

“You’re all lucky you made it back before official curfew,” I said, my voice low but still carrying through the foyer. “But if you don’t want to explain yourselves to Luna Sera in the morning, you should get upstairs and out of my sight.”

They scattered like startled birds, and I might have laughed if it wouldn’t undermine the authority I’d just displayed.

Matt hesitated, shooting Ava a questioning look, then glanced at me. Clearly, his survival instincts outweighed any argument he might have had, and he turned and followed the rest upstairs.

In seconds, the foyer was empty, leaving just Ava and me in the echoing quiet.

She let out a long theatrical sigh as though I was personally responsible for every woe that had ever befallen her.

“Ugh, I forgot what a square you could be.”

I blinked. Gods, she hadn’t called me that in so long.

“Seriously? That’s all you have to say?”

She scoffed. “I have nothing to say to”—she lifted a hand and made a circle in the air with her finger—“a square.”

“That’s a circle,” I deadpanned.

She squinted at her hand, and then shrugged. “Whatever.”

She started up the stairs.

I followed automatically. “Ava, wait. We should—”

She managed three steps before wobbling, and when I reached out to steady her, she brushed me off with a huffy, indignant wave.

“I can walk.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I can.”

She took another determined step, only for her heel to catch the edge of the step. I caught her just in time, tightening my grip around her arm.

She thanked me with a glare. “I told you I can walk.”

“You’re drunk.”

“So? Drunkards walk.”

With a roll of my eyes, I slid one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and scooped her up.

She gasped, “Daniel!”

“Shh.”

“Put me down!”

“No.”

“I can walk.”

“Yes, drunkard. You’ve established that.”

“Daniel, I’m serious.”

I kept climbing.

She wriggled in my arms, but all she managed was to make me hold her tighter.

“If you don’t put me down, I’m going to scream.”

I snorted. “Yeah, do that. Wake up the whole packhouse. I’m sure Mom would love to see you like this.”

She fell silent at once, and I fought back a grin.

My mother was one of the few people Ava trusted and respected most, and I knew the thought of disappointing her would sober Ava faster than anything else could.

Apparently, it worked.

She settled against me with a disgruntled huff, her head resting reluctantly against my shoulder.

I carried her down the hallway toward her room, suddenly hyper-aware of how close we were and how far up her thighs her dress had ridden.

I’d carried my siblings plenty of times. Sophia had fallen asleep in my arms more times than I could count, Lila practically treated me like a human crib, and I was a walking climbing structure to the twins.

But this—this was something else entirely.

Ava was warm against me, her hair brushing my jaw with every step, the scent of strawberry shampoo mingling with the sharp tang of whatever she’d drunk.

This felt... It felt...

‘Right,’ Thatcher finished for me.

When I reached Ava’s room, I pushed the door open with my shoulder and carried her inside.

Her room looked just as I remembered from countless visits: messy, but with a kind of order only Ava could understand.

A tall stack of books leaned precariously against one corner of her desk, while several notebooks lay open beside them, their pages filled with neat handwriting and hurried annotations.

Her training clothes draped over a chair instead of being put away, boots tucked under the window.

A few photographs and little keepsakes were tucked along the edge of the desk, reminders of the life she’d built at Nightfang over the years.

I spotted myself in a few photos, and couldn’t help a smile when I noticed a familiar silver bow tie peeking from a jewelry box lid.

I’d worn it to my parents’ second wedding six years ago, and somehow, by the end of the night, it had ended up around Ava’s wrist.

Seeing it years later, nestled among her treasures, sent a quiet warmth through me.

I lowered her onto the bed carefully, and she sat up, staring at me.

Even now, with her eyes heavy from exhaustion and alcohol, she managed to look both innocent and dangerous, as if she might either ask an adorable question or bite me for answering it wrong.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re mad at me.”

I folded my arms. “That is very correct.”

“Why?”

I scoffed. “I’m not having this conversation while you’re drunk, you menace.”

She rolled her eyes and kicked off her shoes, sending them skidding across the floor in opposite directions.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

She crawled further onto the bed, tugging the blanket over her legs.

“Whatever, Square.”

I grit my teeth, fully aware of my own hypocrisy when I said, “Stop calling me that.”

She looked up, blinking innocent-looking wide eyes at me. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Her mouth twitched. “But you’re a square, aren’t you?”

Her voice deepened, a blatant mockery of mine. “No fun, kids. Everyone obey the rules. Fit into the perfect mold like me, Daniel Blackthorne, the squarest of squares.”

I pursed my lips—whether to stifle a smile or growl, I wasn’t sure.

“Ava, I mean it.”

She sat up again, resting her elbows on her knees and propping her chin in one hand as she studied me.

“Or what, Square?”

I shook my head. There was no point dragging this out. This wasn’t the kind of banter I wanted, not when she was too drunk to know teasing from real hurt.

I turned for the door, ready to let her sleep it off, but barely took a step before I heard her shifting on the mattress behind me.

“Daniel?”

I stopped and let out a quiet sigh before glancing over my shoulder. “What now?”

“Wanna know a secret?”

I should have kept walking, but my better judgment never stood a chance when it came to Ava.

I turned back around. “What?”

She curled a finger, beckoning me closer. I hesitated, but curiosity got the better of me.

I stepped back to the bed, and when she motioned for me to lower, I bent until we were eye to eye.

She studied me for a long moment, her face unexpectedly serious despite the flush of inebriation still coloring her cheeks.

Then she leaned in and whispered in my ear, “My favorite shape is a square.”

My brain stalled.

I stared, trying to decide whether she was making fun of me or whether drunk Ava had simply decided that geometry was a fascinating subject.

Before I could respond, she swayed forward, and her forehead landed against my shoulder.

I caught her, my hands gripping her bare shoulders, her hair spilling through my fingers, soft as silk.

“Ava?”

No response.

I glanced down and let out a disbelieving scoff.

She’d fallen asleep.

I shook her gently. “Ava.”

She didn’t wake up, but her arms wound themselves around me, one hand clutching the back of my shirt and pulling me closer.

She made a satisfied sound at the back of her throat and snuggled deeper into my shoulder, her breathing settling into a slow, even rhythm.

I had no idea how long I stayed hunched over like that, staring at the wall behind her while my heart raced as if I’d just sprinted across half the forest.

I was still trying to figure out how to get myself out of this when Ava let out a soft sigh and tightened her grip on my shirt.

“I really did miss you, Daniel,” she whispered, sounding smaller and more vulnerable than I’d ever heard her. “So, so much.”