Chapter 4: Meeting The Sneaky Bunny
Up in the attic, Mirabelle sat on the creaky wooden floor, her stomach twisting in hunger.
She didn’t like it here—dust coating every surface, the faint scent of mildew in the air. It felt suffocating, like everything else in this house.
Her stomach growled, breaking the silence, and she groaned softly. "I can’t do this," she muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
After a few moments of restless fidgeting and overthinking, she tied her hair up into a messy bun, her resolve hardening.
She wasn’t going to sit here all night, starving.
She would sneak out and get something to eat at Anita’s house. Her friend always had something warm on the stove.
She stood up, opened the attic door cautiously, the hinges groaning faintly in protest. Her heart skipped a beat at the sound, and she froze, holding her breath.
She’d heard stories of how sharp werewolves’ senses were—keen ears that could catch the faintest noise, noses that could pick up the smallest scent.
The last thing she wanted was to draw his attention.
"This is Sally’s big chance," she whispered to herself, tiptoeing down the narrow stairs. "After losing the first prince last year, my aunt would lose her mind if I ruined this."
The house was eerily quiet as she crept through the hallway.