Fated to rise

The Bait

Aria knew Ivy wouldn’t wait long.

Humiliation didn’t sit well with her. Ivy wasn’t the type to tolerate unanswered defiance, especially not when that defiance began to echo across the kingdom. Every camp Aria visited, every rogue she recruited, every patrol she sent running back to Lucian chipped away at Ivy’s carefully constructed throne.

So when the next trap was set, Aria made sure the bait was impossible for Ivy to resist.

It wasn’t a battlefield. It wasn’t a siege.

It was Aria herself.

She spread a rumor—one Rhys artfully leaked through Ivy’s spy network—that she would be visiting the southern village alone to negotiate a fragile alliance with a border pack. She made it sound desperate. Vulnerable. Like her rebellion was unraveling.

Ivy would bite.

She had to.

Rhys leaned against a twisted oak tree as they waited in the open clearing near the village, his arms crossed and his expression skeptical. “You really think she’ll come personally?”

“She won’t send another patrol,” Aria said confidently. “She’s lost too many already. She’ll want to be the one who finishes this.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

Aria smirked, flipping her dagger in her hand. “I’m not.”

The sun was beginning to dip when the first sign appeared—an unnatural stillness in the air, the sharp shift in the wind.

Then Ivy arrived.

She didn’t bother hiding. She rode in on a sleek black horse, dressed not like a queen but like a warrior. Her usual sweet facade was gone. Her pale eyes burned with cold determination, and behind her, a small unit of elite guards fanned out in silent formation.

Ivy dismounted, her steps deliberate, her smile sharp. “Aria. I almost didn’t believe it. You, all alone, waiting for me.”

Aria shrugged casually. “I thought it was time we settled this.”

Ivy’s gaze flicked to Rhys, still leaning lazily against the tree. “Is this the part where you tell me it’s a trap?”

Rhys grinned. “Oh no. It’s much worse than that. This is the part where you realize you walked right into the wrong story.”

Ivy’s eyes narrowed, but she pressed on. “I gave you chances. I offered you a place. You could’ve lived quietly.”

“I’m not interested in quiet,” Aria said, her voice steady. “I’m interested in free.”

“You’ve turned rogues into soldiers. Omegas into rebels. You’re tearing apart the kingdom.”

“I’m rebuilding it.”

Ivy’s anger flickered beneath her calm exterior. “You’ve made yourself into a threat. You know how this ends.”

“Yes,” Aria said, stepping forward, her blade catching the dying sunlight. “It ends with you realizing you were never the Luna.”

Ivy’s composure cracked for the briefest second.

“You think I stole Lucian from you?” Ivy snapped, her voice sharp now. “I saved him from you. He was never meant to choose an Omega.”

Aria’s smile was cold. “He didn’t choose you either. He chose the bond you faked. But that’s the thing about fakes, Ivy—they don’t last.”

Ivy’s guards tensed, ready to strike.

Rhys’s voice was lazy but laced with warning. “Careful. She’s not standing here without a plan.”

Ivy raised a hand to silence her guards. “Let her have her last words.”

Aria’s gaze darkened. “Ivy, you’ve been so busy chasing power you forgot something.”

Ivy crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Oh? What’s that?”

“You forgot to look behind you.”

A rustling from the trees.

Dozens of Aria’s soldiers—rogues, Omegas, warriors who had defected from Lucian’s army—emerged silently, surrounding Ivy’s unit in a perfect choke.

They had been waiting for this moment.

Patient. Quiet. Hidden in the trees until Ivy walked exactly where Aria wanted her.

Ivy’s eyes darted around, calculating, her grip on her sword tightening. “You planned this.”

“Of course,” Aria said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I don’t stumble anymore.”

The trap was set.

Now all Ivy had to do was fight her way out—if she could.

And Aria had no intention of letting her escape.

For a heartbeat, the clearing pulsed with a suffocating silence.

Ivy’s gaze darted around, calculating, assessing the tightening noose Aria had wrapped around her. Her elite guards bristled, but even they could see it—there was no clean exit.

She had walked straight into the jaws of Aria’s rebellion.

Still, Ivy’s smile returned, brittle but intact. "So this is it? Ambush me, overwhelm me with numbers, and what? Parade my defeat to the rogues you’ve collected like lost coins?"

Aria’s steps were measured, slow, as if circling prey. "You still think this is about you. About humiliating you. It’s not."

"Then what is it?" Ivy snapped, her composure fraying at the edges. "Revenge? Power? You think you can wear the Luna’s crown?"

Aria’s voice was steady, low, and sharp. "I don’t need your crown. I’m not here to take your place. I’m here to destroy the place that rejected me."

Rhys, leaning lazily against a nearby tree, chimed in, "And you made it so easy. Honestly, Ivy, you’ve been more helpful than you realize."

Her soldiers shifted uneasily under the weight of dozens of drawn blades now aimed at them. Ivy’s mind raced—Aria could see it—the panic she tried to disguise under bravado.

"You're bluffing," Ivy hissed. "You can’t kill me. Lucian would burn your camp to ash."

Aria’s smile was slow and deliberate. "I don’t need to kill you. I just need you to run."

Ivy blinked. "Run?"

"Back to him. Back to Lucian. Tell him what you saw here. Tell him what you faced. Tell him that his armies don’t scare us anymore." Aria’s voice hardened, her words dropping like cold stones. "Tell him I’m not hiding. Tell him his kingdom is already crumbling."

A flicker of fury lit Ivy’s pale eyes. She wanted this to end in Aria’s death. She wanted to drag her back to the central hall in chains.

But now, Ivy was the one being offered mercy. Or, worse, allowed to leave.

It wasn’t mercy. It was humiliation.

Ivy’s hand twitched toward her blade.

Rhys’s lazy grin faded, his eyes sharp now. "Ah, ah, careful. Make the wrong move, and this lovely forest becomes your tomb."

Aria added softly, "I don’t want your blood, Ivy. I want your failure."

Ivy’s teeth ground together. She could see it now—how well the trap had been set, how carefully Aria had maneuvered her to this place, this moment.

If she fought, she’d lose.

If she fled, she’d lose.

Aria’s voice broke through her fury, final and absolute. "Choose."

For the first time since they were girls, Ivy didn’t have control.

And that terrified her.

Slowly, she sheathed her blade. "This isn’t over."

Aria stepped aside, gesturing to the path behind her. "No, Ivy. This is where it begins."

Ivy turned sharply, her soldiers following in tight, defeated silence as they retreated into the trees. Aria’s army watched, still as stone, until the last of Ivy’s guards vanished from sight.

Only then did Rhys exhale and mutter, "That went better than I expected."

Aria’s expression didn’t soften. She wasn’t celebrating.

She was calculating. Preparing.

"She’ll be back with more force. She’ll want to prove she’s still the Luna."

Rhys scratched his jaw thoughtfully. "She’ll send Lucian next."

"Good," Aria said, her voice low and sure. "I want him to see me. I want him to know he rejected the wrong mate."

Her gaze flicked toward her warriors, her voice rising so all could hear. "This isn’t just about fighting back. This is about building something better. For the rogues. For the Omegas. For everyone they cast aside."

The warriors answered with quiet nods, steady eyes, no cheers or loud roars. They weren’t fighting for glory. They were fighting because they believed in her.

Rhys bumped his shoulder against hers as they walked back toward the heart of the camp. "You really know how to pick your battles."

Aria’s smile was razor sharp. "I’m not picking battles. I’m picking the ones they can’t win."

And deep in her bones, Aria knew Ivy’s retreat wasn’t a victory.

It was just the signal that the real war was about to begin.