Chapter 3
1614 Words
Aria didn’t remember walking home.
She remembered his hands on her waist, his mouth on her throat, the way the bond had flared when he moved inside her. She remembered the way he’d said “Tomorrow” like it was a vow.
Everything after that was a blur of cold air and too‑bright stars.
By the time she crawled into bed in the small room above her parents’ kitchen, the sky had already started to pale. She lay on her back, dress tossed over a chair, hair spilling over the pillow, every inch of her skin still aware of where he’d touched her.
Her wolf curled up around the bond with a satisfied hum.
Mine.
She pressed her palm flat over her sternum, as if she could feel the invisible thread binding them there.
Tomorrow.
For the first time in a long time, the word didn’t sound like a threat.
Morning brought the smells of coffee, baked bread and wood smoke. Sunlight leaked around the curtains. The usual creaks of the old house woke with the day: the groan of pipes, the soft thump of her mother’s footsteps, the familiar scrape of her father’s chair at the kitchen table.
Aria lay there for a moment, listening, letting reality catch up.
She was still in the Silvercrest stronghold. The war hadn’t started. The Alpha hadn’t died. The world hadn’t ended.
She had just… crossed a line she’d only ever imagined.
Heat flushed her cheeks. Her body ached in places that made the memories feel even more real. If she focused, she could still feel the echo of his scent on her skin, under the faint tang of soap.
Mate.
She smiled into the pillow like an i***t.
“Aria!” Her mother’s voice floated up the stairs. “Are you alive?”
“Coming!” she called back, voice embarrassingly bright.
She dressed quickly in a soft sweater and worn jeans, braided her hair to hide the chaos, and padded downstairs.
Her mother was at the stove, stirring something in a pot. Her father sat at the table, a newspaper open, coffee in hand. Both looked up when she entered.
For a heartbeat, she was sure they could see everything—the balcony, the bond, the way Aiden had whispered her name.
“Morning,” she said, aiming for casual and probably landing somewhere near suspicious.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed anyway. “You’re late. Did you sleep at all?” Then, more softly, “You look… different.”
“Different how?” Aria reached for a mug to give her hands something to do.
Her father sniffed the air in that infuriatingly wolfish way. His brows lifted a fraction, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he folded the paper. “The Alpha called a council meeting this afternoon,” he said. “Pack leadership, elders. Something about making an announcement tonight.”
Aria’s fingers tightened around the mug. “An announcement?”
Her mother shot her husband a look. “Richard…”
“What?” he said. “It’s not a secret. Everyone knows Efrain wants to speak about the future of the pack now that Aiden’s back.”
The future of the pack. Her pulse fluttered.
“Do you know what it’s about?” she asked, trying to sound light.
Her father studied her for a moment, Beta mask slipping over the faint amusement in his eyes. “No,” he said. “But I can guess.”
So could she.
Her stomach flipped. She set the mug down carefully before she dropped it.
Her mother came to her side, fingers fussing with the hem of Aria’s sweater for no reason other than to touch. “Whatever happens,” she said quietly, “don’t forget who you are, hm?”
Aria swallowed. “Who am I, exactly?”
Her mother smiled, eyes soft. “My stubborn girl. Your father’s sharp mind. A wolf who doesn’t break easily.”
That sounded dangerously close to “ready to be Luna,” but her mother didn’t say it. Didn’t need to. Hope sat between them anyway, bright and trembling.
The day stretched and folded in strange ways.
Everywhere Aria went, whispers followed. She carried bread to the kitchens, herbs to the healer, linens to the guest rooms. Wolves watched her pass with speculative eyes, some smiling, some measuring, some smug like they’d bet on the right horse.
No one said the word. They didn’t have to.
Mate.
Olivia appeared near midday, as if summoned by the thought.
She glided into the corridor outside the storage room where Aria was counting jars, the sharp click of her heels echoing against the stone. Dark hair smooth, dress immaculate, pretty mouth curved in a polite smile that never quite reached her eyes.
“Aria,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Have you?” Aria kept her back straight, hands steady on the shelf. “What do you need?”
“Nothing.” Olivia leaned against the opposite wall, crossing her arms. “Just thought we should talk. Woman to woman.”
Aria’s wolf bristled, instincts sharpening. “About?”
Olivia’s gaze flicked over her—braid, sweater, bare face—as if taking inventory.
“About how fast things can change,” she said. “And how quickly people forget what was planned for years, just because something… shiny appears in front of them.”
Aria’s jaw tightened. “If you have something to say, say it plainly.”
Olivia’s smile thinned. “Do you really think you can wake up one morning as ‘the Beta’s quiet daughter’ and go to sleep as Luna, just because a bond snapped into place?”
“It’s not just a bond,” Aria said before she could stop herself. “It’s—”
“An excuse,” Olivia cut in softly. “For some wolves to chase what feels good instead of what’s right. The pack was promised certain alliances. Certain futures.” Her eyes cooled. “You were never part of those plans.”
The words landed like small, precise cuts.
Aria forced herself to hold her gaze. “Plans can change.”
Olivia’s laugh was light and bitter. “We’ll see.”
She pushed off the wall and walked away, perfume trailing behind her like a challenge.
Aria stood alone in the quiet corridor, heart pounding, fingers pressed so hard into the wood that her knuckles ached.
She wanted to run to Aiden, to ask, to hear him say it didn’t matter what had been planned, that he chose her. Instead she made herself finish counting the jars.
Tomorrow, she reminded herself. Today, he convinces them. Tomorrow, he tells the pack.
He came to her at dusk.
She was on the outer steps, watching the sky bleed from gold to violet, when his shadow fell over her. Her wolf leapt; the bond flared in greeting.
“Aiden,” she said, standing too quickly. “How did—how did it go?”
He looked exhausted.
Not physically—he was still all sharp lines and easy strength—but something in his eyes had dulled. The storm was still there, but banked, controlled, the way she’d seen in his father.
He took her hand and tugged her into the shelter of the archway, out of the traffic of wolves heading toward the hall.
“They fought me,” he said without preamble. “The elders. My parents. They think… they think I’m being reckless.”
“Because of me,” she said quietly.
“Because of what they want from me,” he corrected, jaw tightening. “They’ve been planning alliances since I was a kid. Names, bloodlines, power. You know how they are.”
Yes. She did.
Her chest tightened. “And you?”
He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them, pinning her there.
“I told them I don’t care,” he said. “That I won’t reject my own mate for the sake of some deal. That I want you at my side, Aria. As Luna. As everything.”
The bond swelled, bright and fierce.
“Then—” Her voice shook. “It’s settled?”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “They agreed to… discuss. To consider.” His mouth twisted. “They want a show of unity tonight. A speech. A perfect little picture.”
Fear slid icy fingers into the warmth in her chest. “Aiden—”
He stepped closer, cupping her face, forcing her to look at him.
“I choose you,” he said firmly. “Whatever they say, whatever faces they make—remember that. I choose you.”
The words wrapped around her like a shield.
“Okay,” she breathed.
He kissed her quickly, a stolen press of mouths that still made her toes curl, then pulled back, expression tightening again.
“I have to go,” he said. “My father wants me beside him when he speaks.”
“And me?” she whispered.
His gaze softened, then hardened again, like he’d made some internal decision she couldn’t see.
“Be there,” he said. “Front row. I want you where I can see you.”
She nodded, unable to speak past the thud of her heart.
As he walked away toward the hall, shoulders squared under the weight of a future the pack had built for him, Aria pressed her palm over her racing chest.
He’d said it twice now.
I choose you.
She believed him.
She never once wondered what he would choose when the moment came and the whole pack was watching.
- Writer
