Chapter 4
1195 Words
Aurora's POV
My head snapped to the side, and tears instantly sprang to my eyes, blurring my vision.
The slap was the last thing I expected.
Across from me, Logan stands frozen, staring at his own hand. On the ground behind him, Eileen hasn't moved either. He turns his palm over slowly, looking at the redness there the way you look at a thing you don't remember doing. Then his eyes come up to me.
Blue again. Ordinary, familiar blue.
He looks at my face—the handprint blooming across my cheek, the tears that came without my permission, the hair that has fallen loose across my jaw, the warm blood on the corner of my mouth —and something in his expression breaks apart without making a sound.
Then Noah crashes into him.
Both fists against Logan's thigh, small and furious, pounding with everything he has. "Don't you hit my mommy! Don't you hit her—don't you—"
Logan stands there and takes every blow.
I reach up and wipe my mouth. My fingers come back red. I look at them for a moment, then press my hand over my face.
When I lower it, I'm looking at Logan.
"You hit me." My voice comes out quieter than I intend. "You actually hit me."
"Aurora—" He steps forward, arm reaching for me.
I pull back before he can reach me.
"That wasn't me." His voice is stripped to something raw. "It was Canis—the drive to protect a mate—it overrode everything else and I lost control for one second. I swear to you that was never my intention—"
"Out of the protective feeling for your mate." I look at Eileen, still on the ground. Then back at him. "She's your mate." A pause. "Then what am I?"
Logan goes very still.
He reaches out and takes my hand—gently, both of his closing around my wrist—and brings it toward his own face.
"You can hit me back," he says.
"Logan—"
"Please." The muscle in his jaw pulls tight. "Hit me back."
I glance past his shoulder. Along the fence outside the daycare, a patrol unit has stopped. Three warriors, two wolves from the south quarter, all of them looking this way while pretending not to.
I take my hand back. I don't know what to do.
I lift Noah onto my hip—he wraps himself around me immediately, still shaking—and I walk out.
***
The face in the mirror barely looks like mine.
My left cheek has swelled into something tight and shiny, the skin underneath mapped with broken red. The handprint has begun to bruise at the edges. My eyes are swollen from crying, still leaking despite everything I've tried, and the inside of my lip tastes like iron.
I have known this man my entire life. He's my friend from childhood; then, he is my husband. He is the father of my child. And today he struck me in front of the pack.
The moment I let myself realize it, even for a second, I couldn't stop the tears from falling.
Then I think about Eileen crouching in front of Noah at the base of that slide. She said, "I'm your mom."—the grip on his arm, the shove. You're so useless.
Twice now.
I could leave. Walk away cleanly. But Noah can't, because he's the son of Alpha. He's the hope of the next generation of Redmoon pack. No matter what I think, I can't take him away because I have no ability to protect him. Because...I'm wolfless...Why me? Why am I the daughter of Hawthorne Pack's Alpha, the mother of a child, but without wolves? I can't even protect my pack and my child.
But if I left Noah here, how would the pack see him? How would Eileen treat him?
The answer was obvious.
I began to realize how foolish my previous thoughts had been... How could I so easily walk away? Escape my responsibilities once again? Just like in that great war?
The door bangs open.
Logan crosses the room in four strides and stops in front of me. He looks at my face the way he looked at his hand in the yard.
"I'm sorry." His voice is low. "You know me, Aurora. Better than anyone else does. You know that is not who I am—not what I intended—"
I don't say anything.
"Hit me." He meets my eyes. "Go ahead."
I look at him and don't move.
He reaches up and strikes himself across the face. Hard. Same cheek, same side. The crack of it fills the room and he straightens without flinching.
I gasped.
"I have never wanted to hurt you," he says. "Not once. Not ever. I swear it."
I look away.
Then his arms come around me. He's warm, and he smells like sage—familiar and faint—and for a moment I just stand in it and don't try to think about anything at all.
I pull back after a moment.
"I need you to hear what happened before you arrived." I keep my voice even. "I heard Eileen and Noah. She told him he was useless. She tried to get him to drink something she'd brought without telling me. When he refused, she grabbed his arm and—"
His arms drop. He steps back.
"Aurora." He says it quietly. "You don't have a wolf."
I stop.
"The play area is at the back of the building. You were at the entrance." He pauses. "You're telling me you heard all of that clearly, from that distance, without a wolf." Something careful moves into his expression. "You're my family. My most trusted person. I'm asking you not to mislead me."
"I'm not misleading you." My voice stays level. "Everything I told you is true. You know I don't lie to you."
A beat of silence.
"Whoever lays a hand on Noah," he says, "will answer for it ten times over. I mean that."
Something in my face eases.
He reaches out and straightens my collar—small, automatic—and holds my gaze. "The reception banquet is in three days. Alpha leaders, Betas, Lunas from every surrounding pack. Our first time hosting since joining the alliance." A pause. "I want it done well. I want them to see what Redmoon is now."
"I'll handle it," I say.
He nods. At the door he pauses. "I'll make this up to you. I already have something in mind."
I didn't say anything.
"It's a surprise," he said. "And trust me, you're going to love it."
Then he's gone.
I turn back to the mirror.
The swelling has gotten worse, not better. I press two fingers lightly to my cheek and watch the color shift beneath them.
'A surprise,' I think.
I reach for the cold cloth on the edge of the sink and hold it to my face, and stand there in the quiet.
I knew I had to figure out a way to fix all of this — and fast.
- Writer
