Chapter 3: Ghosts and Rain
664 Words
The small apartment smelled of hot cocoa and lavender laundry detergent. It was tiny, cramped, and the floorboards creaked, but to me, it was a fortress. Our safe haven.
"Burn it all down. We leave in three days."
Aunt Mara’s voice crackled through the phone speaker, sharp and uncompromising. I paced the narrow kitchen, chewing on my thumbnail.
"Mara, I can't just leave," I whispered, keeping my voice low. "If I don't sign the inheritance papers, we have no money. And if I run now, the Council will know I'm a flight risk. They'll hunt us."
"Let them try. I’ll give them a concussion with my frying pan," Mara snapped, the aggressive humor her default shield. "Lia, the bond flared. He saw you. If you think the King of Alphas is just going to let you walk away after three years—"
"I know," I cut her off, my voice breaking. "I know."
I hung up, pressing my forehead against the cool glass of the kitchen window. Outside, the sky was bruised and heavy. A torrential downpour had just begun, the rain lashing against the glass like angry fingertips.
Taking a deep breath, I walked into the bedroom.
The soft glow of a nightlight illuminated the most precious thing in my world. Aiden was five years old, curled up under a worn quilt, one arm slung protectively over his stuffed plush wolf, Wolfie.
I sat on the edge of the bed and gently brushed a stray curl from his forehead. He stirred, his eyelids fluttering open.
And there they were. Those eyes.
Bright, piercing, molten gold. The exact same eyes that had pinned me to the marble floor of the ballroom an hour ago. Every time I looked at my son, I saw the man who had broken me. But I also saw the only reason I had survived.
"Mommy?" Aiden mumbled, rubbing his eye with a small fist. "Why are you sad?"
"I'm not sad, baby," I lied smoothly, kissing his warm cheek. "Just tired. Go back to sleep."
Aiden didn't close his eyes. He possessed a terrifyingly accurate emotional radar. He sat up slowly, clutching Wolfie to his chest, and turned his golden gaze toward the window. The rain was coming down in sheets now, obscuring the streetlights in a watery blur.
"We live in a stone frog," Aiden stated matter-of-factly, repeating his favorite meme about our ugly, gray apartment building. "Frogs like the rain."
"Yes, they do," I smiled softly, trying to steer him back under the covers.
But Aiden slid off the bed. His bare feet padded softly against the wooden floor as he walked to the window. He pressed his small hands and Wolfie’s plush nose against the cold glass, staring out into the dark, stormy street.
I froze, a strange chill creeping up my spine. "Aiden? What are you looking at?"
My son didn't blink. His golden eyes were fixed on the shadows across the street.
"Mommy," Aiden said, his voice eerily calm and serious. "There’s a sad wolf standing in the rain."
My heart stopped.
"He's not moving," Aiden continued, tilting his head slightly. "And he smells... he smells like me."
The air in my lungs vanished. I scrambled off the bed, my legs trembling, and rushed to the window, peering over my son’s head through the rain-streaked glass.
Across the street, partially illuminated by the flickering amber glow of a streetlamp, stood Kaiden.
He was drenched. His expensive suit was ruined, plastered to his broad frame by the torrential downpour. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, water streaming down his face.
He wasn't hiding. He wasn't trying to break down the door. He wasn't even looking up at our window.
The Alpha King was simply standing in the pouring rain, staring at the front door of our ugly "stone frog" building, standing guard over a boundary he refused to cross without permission.
He was just standing there. And he wasn't going to leave.
- Writer
