The Breaking Point of Mate: Giving Up on My Alpha novel Chapter 113

Chapter 113

Third Person’s POV

+25 Bonu

As the sky bruised into a deep purple, the campsite lights flickered on one by one. The charcoal grills started to sizzle, sending up the smell of searing meat and seafood that mixed perfectly with the crisp mountain air.

“You like shrimp?” Dwight asked, handing her a couple of freshly grilled skewers.

“Thanks,” Melanie said, taking them. The warmth of the food felt good against the chill.

The campsite was starting to buzz. In a nearby clearing, people were stacking logs for the night’s bonfire.

Dwight looked at her. “Want to join in?”

“I’m up for whatever.”

Dwight was about to say something when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Edric.

He stepped away a few paces before answering.

“Drinks later?” Edric shouted over the line.

“Pass. You guys have fun.”

“What are you doing? It’s the weekend…”

Before he could finish, Myra came bouncing over with a chicken wing in her hand. “Uncle! Your wing is getting cold!”

Dwight leaned down to take it, his expression softening for a split second.

Edric caught the audio on the other end instantly. “Are you at a BBQ? Where are you?”

“Out. Took Myra camping,” Dwight said, his voice dropping back to its usual flat tone.

“No way! Camping in the snow? A bonfire? Why didn’t I think of that!” Edric sounded hyped for a second before reality set in.” Wait a minute, Dwight. You went out and didn’t invite me?!”

“Next time,” Dwight said, blowing him off.

“Something’s up… Myra’s ‘Auntie‘ is there too, isn’t she?” Edric’s gossip radar was pinging at a ten. “Where are you? I’ll bring Archer and the crew over right now. The more the merrier-”

“Gotta go.”

Dwight felt a flash of irritation. The second Edric mentioned Archer’s name, he cut the call.

Night had fully settled over the mountains. A thick mist, smelling of cold fir needles, crawled through the woods,

While the cold didn’t bother a werewolf, the wind still felt like a blade against any exposed skin.

Dwight pocketed his phone and watched Melanie and Myra from a distance.

They were huddled by the fire, sharing a piece of grilled fish. Their silhouettes against the flames created a warm, soft image- the kind of domestic scene you rarely saw in his cold–blooded pack.

He went back to the tent and grabbed two heavy parkas

He walked over and handed the larger one–still warm from his own body heat–to Melanie.

Melanie’s fingers curled. She instinctively tried to put up a wall. “I’m not that cold…”

“Put it on.” Dwight’s voice was low, carrying that classic Alpha weight that didn’t really leave room for “no.”

Chapter 13

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He didn’t wait for her to argue. He shook out the coat and draped it over her shoulders.

Suddenly, Melanie was wrapped in the scent of another man–a dry, cedarwood aroma.

She wasn’t actually freezing, but the parka cut the wind instantly, and the steady heat from the fabric started to seep into her back. It was hard to turn down.

She bit her lip and let the overstep slide.

The bonfire officially kicked off, the crackle of burning wood breaking the heavy silence of the forest.

As the three of them approached the crowd, a few neighbors on their own winter trips started teasing them. “Wow, look at this family. Seriously, those genes are making the rest of us look bad.”

Melanie’s back went rigid. Her “professional” mask slid right back on, cold and distant. “Sorry,” she said, keeping it civil. “We aren’t a family.”

The neighbors traded looks, wearing that “sure, honey” smirk common in L.A. social circles.

Soon, Myra got pulled away by some other werewolf pups to play tag in the trees.

With the kid gone, the mood between the two adults chilled fast.

They sat by the fire with a polite but massive gap between them.

They really had nothing to talk about.

Family? That meant talking about Archer and Camille—a subject that was a raw, sensitive wound for Melanie.

Work? That would just ruin the peace of the night.

Dwight watched the sparks fly into the air and finally broke the silence. “How’s it going at Hilltop? You settling in?”

Melanie was looking down, messing with some dry grass she’d picked up.

Her fingers were moving fast, weaving the blades together like she was performing a delicate surgery. “It’s fine,” she said flatly.

“Elmer… he’s got a temper, but he looks out for his people. I’m guessing he’s taking care of you.”

“Mhm.”

“Your degree was in Al vision, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d you and Elmer even meet?”

This time, Melanie didn’t answer.

Dwight felt the air go still. He knew she was on guard–he was Archer’s best friend, atter all. He’d seen her at her lowest, stuck in the mud of that marriage. He took the bint and dropped the subject. 1

As the night went on, Dwight stepped away to take a few business calls.

When he came back, the dry grass in Melanie’s hands had been transformed into a few litelike butterflies.

Myra ran back, exhausted, and tucked the grass butterflies into her front pocket like they were priceless jewels, muttering about how they were “medals from Auntie.”

Watching the kid treat the scraps like treasure, the smile on Melanie’s lips suddenly froze.