Marked By Two

Waking to a nightmare

**Aria’s POV**

"Aria? Aria, look at me. Breathe."

A cold, sharp needle pierced through the dream.

I felt a sudden, icy rush through my veins, a liquid fire that chased the violet haze out of my limbs. My lungs opened with a violent gasp, the air of the real world hitting my throat like glass.

The voice was deep, a low rumble that vibrated against the base of my skull.

I opened my eyes, but the room tilted dangerously. The ceiling of my room blurred, the familiar mahogany beams spinning until I felt a hand—l, warm, large, and trembling, cup the side of my face.

"That’s it. Stay with me," the voice commanded.

My vision finally snapped into focus. Noah was hovering over me. He looked like a man who had crawled out of the wreckage of a collapsed building. His dark hair was disheveled, damp with sweat and rain, and his white dress shirt was torn at the shoulder, stained with soot and something darker.

But it was his face that stopped my breath. His jaw was set so tight I thought the bone might snap, and his eyes, usually so controlled, so calculating, were wild with a raw intensity.

"Noah?" I whispered. My voice was hollow like a sound that didn't feel like it belonged to me.

"I'm here," he said, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone.

I tried to sit up, but my body felt like lead. As I moved, my eyes fell to his hands. His knuckles were split open, the skin there was raw and covered with dried blood. The sight of it sent a jolt of alarm through my system.

"You're hurt," I managed to say, reaching out with a weak hand to touch his arm.

Noah didn't look at his hands. He didn't seem to notice the blood at all. He just stared at me as if I were a miracle he didn't quite believe in yet. There was a distance in his gaze, a heavy, dark shadow that hadn't been there before. He looked like he was standing on the other side of a canyon, watching me from a place I couldn't reach.

"It’s not my blood," he said shortly. The coldness in his tone made me flinch. It wasn't directed at me, but the violence behind it was palpable.

"What happened?" I asked, my mind still half-trapped in the meadow with Maeve. "I was... I was back home. Maeve was there. We were in the forest, picking lilies. It felt so real, Noah. It was so quiet."

Noah’s expression darkened. He let out a breath that sounded like a growl caught in his throat. "It wasn't a dream, Aria. It was the drug. My mother... she gave you a sedative Julian had been keeping. An overdose."

I blinked, trying to process the words. *My mother. Overdose.* "But Maeve... she told me to stay. She said if I left, I’d be alone again."

"She was part of the hallucination," Noah said, his voice hardening. "The drug was designed to let your subconscious die in a place that felt safe while your body gave up. It mimics your happiest memories to keep you from fighting back. It wasn't Maeve, Aria. It was poison."

I looked away, a strange, hollow ache opening in my chest. The village had felt so warm, and the version of Maeve I’d seen had been so whole. To hear it dismissed as a chemical trick made the reality of this room, this cold, blood-stained reality feel even sharper.

"How did you wake me?" I asked, looking back at the small, empty amber vial sitting on the nightstand.

Noah followed my gaze. For a second, a flicker of something, regret, or perhaps a lingering ghost of the man he used to be passed over his face. Then, the mask of the Alpha slid back into place, cold and impenetrable.

"I found a way," he said simply. He didn't mention anything else.

"Where’s Cassian?" I asked, noticing the silence of the house.

Noah’s jaw ticked. "Checking the compound I think. The North caused some trouble at the office tonight. He’s just checking the estate to make sure it's secure."

He stood up then, the sudden movement making me feel small in the huge space of the bed. He walked to the window, looking out at the dark treeline. The distance between us felt physical now, a heavy shroud of things unsaid. He had saved me, but the cost was written in the tension of his shoulders and the blood on his hands.

"You should sleep," he said, his back still turned to me. "Real sleep this time. No dreams."

"Noah," I called out.

He stopped but didn't turn around.

"Thank you," I whispered. "For coming back for me."

He was silent for a long time. I could hear the rain starting to tap against the glass, a dull lonely sound.

"I'll always come back for you, Aria," he said, his voice so low I almost missed it. "No matter what it costs."

He walked out of the room without another word, leaving me alone in the dim light. I reached up and touched the Mark on my neck. It didn't burn anymore. It was cold. But as I laid my head back on the pillow, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had woken up into a nightmare far worse than the one I had just left.