Judgement day
931 Words
Aria’s POV
The silk of my dress was a deep, bruised red, the exact shade of the gown I had worn the night of the gala. The night my life shattered. As I stared at my reflection, the fabric felt like a second skin, a reminder of the girl who had been betrayed and the woman who had survived.
My fingers traced the skin just above my collarbone. It was there again. The Mark, burning with a steady, silver light. I was finally free from the void.
I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I was back in that crumbling drawing room, the air was thick with the smell of blood and wet fur. I remembered the weight of Maeve in my arms, the desperate, crushing hug that had acted as a bridge. I had felt the darkness drain out of me, flowing back into her like water returning to a poisoned well.
“I’m sorry,” I had whispered as Maeve slumped against me, her pulse fading like a dying candle. I had screamed for Elena, begged her to use the healing skills she bragged about to save my cousin, even as Julian vanished into thin air with a hissed incantation just seconds before Cassian’s claws reached his throat.
The aftermath was a blur of blood. Noah had barked for the hiding maids to carry Maeve’s limp body upstairs. Elena had followed, her face was unreadable.
The Grand Luna, shaken but still standing with that terrifying, cold pride, had looked at me with a mix of fear and disgust before ordering a guard to take her to an empty chamber.
Noah, Cassian, and I had been left in a sea of stray-wolf carcasses and blood, the silence of the house broken only by the retreating howls of what was left of the strays.
A sharp knock at the door brought me back to the present. I gripped my chest and blinked hard, my heart skipping a beat.
"Come in," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
The door groaned open, and Cassian stepped inside. He moved slowly, his usual swagger replaced by a calm that felt almost heavy. He didn't look like the drunk who had tried to hit his brother. He looked... weary.
"Aria," he said softly, stopping several feet away.
I didn't answer. I picked up my silver necklace from the velvet cushion, my fingers fumbling with the clasp. I could see him in the mirror, watching me. Before I could ask for help, he moved.
He stepped behind me, his huge shadow falling over mine. His hands were large and warm as he took the chain from my shaking fingers. I held my breath as he draped it around my neck, his thumbs grazing my skin as he clicked the clasp shut.
Yet, he didn't pull away. One hand settled on the curve of my waist while the other rested at the nape of my neck, his palm cupping the back of my head.
The intimacy of it was suffocating. I could feel the heat of him, the steady beat of a heart that had fought for me.
For a second, I let myself lean into him, lost in the safety of his touch. But then the image of Elena, his fiancée, the mother of the heir, flashed in my mind. I quietly stepped out of his reach, smoothing my dress.
"You're sober," I remarked, turning to face him. "It suits you. Better than the bourbon."
Cassian’s lips tilted in a ghost of a smile, but his eyes stayed dark. "The bourbon was a lie I told myself to stay numb. I don't think I can afford to be numb anymore."
He paced the room once, his eyes landing on the window. "How is she? Maeve?"
"She hasn't woken up," I replied, my voice softening. "But she’s alive. Elena says the she is stable now. Thanks to her... Maeve has a chance."
The mention of Elena acted like a cold draft in the room. Cassian looked away, his jaw tightening as he avoided my eyes.
"Elena is... Nice," he muttered.
"Cassian, don't," I said, stepping toward him. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I touched his cheek. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my palm, the raw life in him. "Don't pretend she isn't part of this. Don't pretend there isn't a child."
He leaned into my touch for a heartbeat, his eyes closing, before he regained his composure and stepped back. He looked like a man preparing for an execution. Like he was preparing for the worst to come.
A second knock came, sharper, more formal this time.
"Alpha Noah is ready," a guard’s voice called through the wood. "He awaits your presence, Miss Aria."
We heard the receding footsteps of the guard echoing down the hall. The time for hiding was over.
Cassian straightened his shoulders, his expression turning into a mask of Alpha iron. He offered me his left arm while his eyes were searching mine.
"Shall we?" he asked.
I looked at his arm, then up at his face. Despite everything, the lies, the blood, the fiancée, a warm smile touched my lips. I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow, my fingers gripping the fine wool of his sleeve.
"Let's go," I whispered, stepping toward the door with him. "Let's go meet our judgment.”
- Writer
