My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her

Chapter 543: Chapter 543 THE SQUARE AND THE MENACE (BONUS Chapter 2)

DANIEL’S POV

Ava moved back three years ago to study under Alois at the New Moon Institute, and when she left, the packhouse felt empty in a way I’d never noticed it could.

Laughter still filled the halls, the training grounds still echoed with the shouts and grunts of practice, but there was a certain flicker of life that was just...gone.

She spent most of the year there, training and studying, learning things I could barely begin to understand from the old wolf and the other scholars who had taken her under their wings.

But every summer, she returned to Nightfang, and her visits turned the season into my favorite time of year.

The problem was that my life had gotten considerably more complicated since we were children.

My days overflowed with physical training, strategy lessons, pack history, council observation, weapons practice, and more responsibilities than I knew what to do with.

On top of that, I had four younger siblings who possessed an almost supernatural ability to sense whenever I had free time.

If I sat down to read, Sophia wanted to know what the book was about.

If I went outside to train, Theo and Leon wanted to spar with their rubber staffs.

If I locked my bedroom door, Lila would run headfirst into it and give herself a concussion.

Privacy and respite had become theoretical concepts.

So when Ava returned each summer, I had to fight for every minute I got with her. It wasn’t easy, but I always found a way.

This year, it was more important than ever that I saw her.

Because, earlier this spring, I finally got my wolf, Thatcher.

It had been one of the biggest moments of my life, something I’d counted down to with a wild mix of excitement and impatience.

Meeting Thatcher was everything I’d dreamed: pack runs, private runs with Ashar and Alina, a constant companion in my mind who knew me better than anyone else ever could.

The only problem was there was one person I hadn’t shared him with. Ava.

“Mundane technology” was a frowned-upon concept at the New Moon Institute, which meant Ava didn’t have a phone and our only mode of communication was a handful of emails we managed to send back and forth like once a month—which was not enough.

I didn’t want to share the best news of my life via email.

I wanted to watch Ava’s eyes light up when she met Thatcher in person. I wanted to feel her hands run through his fur.

But more than anything, I just wanted to see her again.

The moment that familiar voice cut through the clatter of sparring, something inside me tightened, pulling me irresistibly toward it, and I ditched Cindy in the middle of a sentence. I didn’t even feel particularly guilty about it.

“Is your diaper full? That why you move so sloppily?”

I laughed and quickened my pace.

I was just going to say hello. Ask how her year had been. Ask if she’d had a good trip.

You know, friend stuff.

Except when I reached the edge of the training field and saw Ava, I forgot what I had intended to say.

For a second, I could have sworn I was six years younger.

It was déjà vu: the same training grounds, the same girl taunting her opponent, even the same older boy, Matt.

He was eighteen now, taller and broader than the gawky boy whose ass had been handed to him by a girl half his size.

Apparently, some things didn’t change.

Except maybe one thing: there was no mistaking this Ava for a boy.

Her auburn hair had grown long over the years, its color brighter beneath the afternoon sun, flashing copper whenever she turned. She had pulled it into a high ponytail that swung mesmerizingly behind her with every movement.

She wore a black sports bra and shorts, practical training clothes that left no doubt about how hard she had been working.

My gaze lingered on her toned midriff a moment too long.

I forced myself to look away.

Then, despite myself, I glanced back.

‘Interesting,’ Thatcher mused, his amusement a buzz in my brain. ‘Very, very, interesting.’

‘Shut up.’

He chuckled softly, but fell silent, and we watched Ava fight.

She was still a sight to behold.

I had trained with her for years, watching her learn formal technique, add it to her rough, natural skills, and hone them into something uniquely hers.

She flowed. That was the only word I could find for it.

She moved like water gliding around stone, like a snake shifting course in an instant, like a blade that struck without warning or need for announcement.

Every movement seemed connected to the next, her body responding before thought could interfere.

“Come on, Matt,” she taunted, moving just out of his reach. “You’re making me sleepy.”

Matt’s laughter caught me off guard.

The Matt I remembered had been furious whenever Ava taunted him, especially when they were children. Now he simply shook his head, grinning as he came after her.

“You talk too much.”

“Says a lot about you who can’t keep me occupied enough to focus and shut my mouth.”

“Oh, I’ll shut it,” he retorted, a suggestive gleam in his eyes as he lunged.

Ava slipped sideways, and Matt’s fist cut through empty air.

She laughed as she danced away, her voice as light and effortless as her steps.

I frowned, thrown off by the sudden, sharp twist of irritation in my chest.

I was a self-aware person, and I prided myself on knowing my own mind. Which is why I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t know what caused it.

I didn’t like that Ava was laughing with Matt. I didn’t like that she was sparring with him.

I didn’t like that she was back, and she was with him instead of me.

However, knowing my own mind didn’t mean I was always in control of my own actions.

I stepped into the training circle before I could think better of it.

“Enough.”

Ava stopped, her foot planted firmly. Her ponytail whipped through the air as she turned toward me.

Her chest heaved with exertion, skin glistening with sweat, cheeks flushed from the fight.

Her green eyes locked onto mine, and suddenly I was breathless, my chest rising and falling as if I’d been the one fighting.

Ava stared at me, and I found myself staring right back, unable to tear my eyes away as my mind struggled to catch up with the sudden intensity of the moment.

Then Matt cleared his throat. “Dude, did you interrupt us for a reason?”

I blinked, finally dragged back to reality.

I ignored Matt, my gaze fixed on Ava. “How long have you been back?”

She stared at me for five long seconds without saying a word. Then she walked over to the bench, picked up a water bottle, and drank nearly the entire thing.

I watched her throat work as she swallowed, then quickly averted my gaze, suddenly too aware of where my eyes had lingered.

‘Fascinating,’ Thatcher hummed.

“A week,” Ava replied eventually, lowering the bottle.

My eyes widened. “A week?”

She shrugged. “Or whatever.”

I frowned. Something about her answer felt wrong.

Ava had never been able to give me a response that bland, especially not when I was the one asking the question.

She always had more to say—usually something sarcastic and snarky, specifically designed to get under my skin. I had spent years pretending to be annoyed by it when, if I was honest, I had always looked forward to our ridiculous banter almost as much as our sparring.

Now she stood in front of me, acting like...like I wasn’t me.

Like we weren’t us.

“That’s it?”

Her brows drew together, and I noticed she’d pierced the right one. “Need something?”

The question was flat. Dismissive.

The irritation congealed into something that felt a lot like dread.

“Yeah,” I answered, my voice slightly strained. “I want to spar with you. I bet I can get you to shut up.”

Her expression didn’t change, but the pierced eyebrow twitched.

I held my breath. Ava couldn’t resist a challenge, especially not one against me.

Then a familiar voice came from behind me.

“Hey, there you are.”

I turned to see Cindy hurrying toward us, slightly breathless from apparently having chased after me.

Ava glanced at her, then back at me, her expression giving nothing away.

Without another word, she grabbed her duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder, the motion carrying the same detached finality as her voice.

“Later, Matt.”

He gave her a two-fingered salute. “Later, Ava.”

She walked past me without sparing a glance. I reached out instinctively, my fingers barely grazing her arm before she flinched away.

The movement was so quick and instinctive that I froze, my hand hanging uselessly in the space between us.

Ava paused and finally looked at me. I waited for her familiar taunting smile to spread on her lips, for her to roll her eyes or mutter something sharp enough to cut.

Anything to break this weird block of ice between us.

“I’m tired, Daniel.”

Flat. Emotionless.

Then she walked away.

I watched her go, following the sway of her ponytail as she vanished beyond the edge of the training grounds, never once looking back.

Gradually, the noise around me seeped back in. Matt said something behind me, Cindy kept talking, someone nearby laughed, but it all sounded muffled, as if I were underwater.

I lowered my hand, fingers curling into my palm as a strange, sinking weight settled in my stomach.

I didn’t understand what had just happened.

I’d spent the last nine months anticipating Ava’s return, but now it felt like I’d been waiting for someone who hadn’t been waiting for me at all.