The hidden heir of the Alpha

Chapter 3

Aria’s POV:

The wind moved through the trees like it always did in Hollow Haven—soft, haunting, and weirdly familiar. This forest had become my escape, a place where the ache in my chest didn’t press quite so hard. Where the ghosts of my past couldn’t whisper quite so loudly. But lately, it wasn’t just the quiet or the trees pulling me out here.

It was him.

Luca’s laughter drifted from the house—high, bright, full of joy I didn’t deserve but clung to anyway. He was playing with Mira, Kael’s mate, a healer with moon-blessed hands and the soul of a saint. She had taken to Luca like he was her own, and he adored her in return. Their little bond gave me the perfect excuse to slip away for a while. To breathe. To move. To remember who I was beneath the bruised layers of survival.

But tonight, I wasn’t looking for stillness or solitude. If I’m honest, I was looking for him.

And there he was already waiting.

Kellan.

The man with quiet eyes and steady hands. The only one who made me feel like maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t broken beyond repair.

“Late again,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving in that crooked smile that always hit somewhere low in my stomach. He wore his usual training gear, sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted with dirt and dusk. It was criminal how good he looked doing absolutely nothing.

“Had to bribe Luca with Mira’s honey bread,” I replied, stepping into the clearing. “He’s completely addicted now—won’t touch anything else.”

Kellan chuckled, the sound low and warm, and handed me a wooden training blade. His fingers brushed mine—just briefly, but the contact felt like a lightning strike beneath my skin. His touch lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary.

That wasn’t the first time.

I hated how much I noticed. How my skin remembered the warmth of him. How I sometimes found myself replaying these moments like stolen dreams I couldn’t admit I wanted.

We began as usual. Sword forms. Evasion drills. The occasional sparring round where he tried—and failed—to sweep my feet out from under me.

I was faster now. Stronger. I had to be—for Luca. For me. For the girl who once let a monster cage her in velvet and silence.

But training with Kellan was never just about the motions. It was about the way he watched me. Not like I was fragile. Not like I was a ticking bomb. But like he saw something worth fighting for. Someone worth knowing.

“Again,” he said, voice low as I lunged.

I swung. He blocked me. My footing slipped.

Before I could fall, his arm wrapped around my waist—steady, solid. We were close now. Too close. Breath to breath. Heart to heart.

And neither of us moved.

I should’ve pulled away. Should’ve cracked a joke. But the air had shifted, thick and charged. I could feel every inch of him and hated how badly I wanted to stay in that moment.

I looked up and met his eyes—hazel, flecked with gold. Grounded. Gentle. And for one terrifying second, I felt… safe.

“Aria,” he murmured, breath warm against my cheek. “You okay?”

I stepped back too fast, nearly tripping over my own feet. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired.”

But I wasn’t tired. I was unraveling.

Over the past few months, Kellan had become the only constant in my chaos. The only one who saw me—not Darius’s castoff. Not the runaway. Just Aria.

And I hated how much I wanted more of that.

His hand on the small of my back. The way he leaned in, like our conversations were secrets only we could share. The way his silence held space for mine.

It scared the hell out of me—because I wasn’t supposed to feel this way again. Not after what I’d endured. Not after losing everything.

But feelings don’t knock. They just… seep in through cracks you didn’t realize were there.

We wrapped up training just as the sun dipped behind the trees, bathing the clearing in molten gold. I wiped sweat from my brow, catching him watching me again.

“Forest walk?” he asked.

Like he always did.

I should’ve said no.

“Yeah,” I said instead.

We walked in silence, footsteps muted by the mossy path. It wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of quiet that said more than words ever could. And when our fingers brushed—then stayed touching—it felt like we were crossing some invisible line together.

And I let it happen.

We stopped at the moonlit clearing, the one where Luca had first tried to shift and instead ended up sneezing fireflies. I turned to him, pulse tripping when I saw the look in his eyes—like he’d already made peace with what was about to happen.

“Aria,” he said softly, “this, whatever this is—if I’ve crossed a line, tell me. I’ll stop.”

His voice was calm, but I heard the strain. The restraint.

I should’ve walked away. Should’ve said we couldn’t. That it wasn’t fair or safe or smart.

But I didn’t.

I stepped forward.

So did he.

No big speeches. Just the softest brush of his lips against mine.

And gods, it undid me.

His kiss wasn’t desperate. It was reverent. Careful. Like he was offering something sacred and unsure if I’d take it.

And I did.

For one suspended moment, I let myself feel again. I let myself believe in something soft. I kissed him back, clutching the front of his shirt like it was the only thing holding me together.

But reality isn’t kind.

It came crashing in like ice water.

I jerked away, breath caught, heart slamming.

“I—” I couldn’t finish. I turned and ran.

Branches whipped at my arms. Shadows blurred. Every step felt like betrayal.

I didn’t stop until the cabin came into view. Luca’s window glowed like a lighthouse, grounding me.

Only then did I let myself breathe.

What had I done?

What if someone had seen? What if this put him in danger?

But worse than all of that...

What if I wanted it to happen again?