(Aria’s POV)

“I, Liam Blackwood, reject you—”

The bond snaps tight in my chest, then twists.

“I reject you,” he repeats, slower, like he wants there to be no confusion. “As my mate.”

The room goes dead silent.

Then the whispers start.

“He’s rejecting her?”

“Did I hear that right?”

“Of course he is. Look who it is.”

My fingers go numb.

Mates don’t do this.

They don’t.

Rejection is supposed to be a last-resort thing when the Goddess clearly made a mistake.

Not… this.

Not done like an announcement at a party.

My throat scrapes. “You—” My voice cracks. “Liam, you can’t—”

“I can,” he cuts in, eyes hard as stone. “And I am.”

My heart lurches like it’s trying to climb out of my chest. The bond that started to glow a second ago flickers violently.

I feel it tearing.

“You’re humiliating yourself,” he says flatly. “And my pack.”

The words hit harder than any physical blow.

Somewhere to my left, Mira makes a small, delighted sound.

The Alpha doesn’t interrupt.

No one steps in.

They’re letting him do this.

Liam takes a step toward me, power rolling off him. “You are weak, Aria. Wolfless. A liability.”

The pack hangs on every word like it’s some kind of sermon.

“Do you think the Moon Goddess cares about that?” I whisper. “She chose—”

“She made a mistake,” he says, right over me.

Gasps ripple through the hall.

Blasphemy.

Someone mutters, “Careful…”

Liam doesn’t flinch.

“Or she did it as a test,” he continues, voice cool. “To see if I would put my pack first. A Luna must be strong. Fearless. Capable of ripping out a throat if she has to.”

His gaze rakes over me.

The blue dress. The shaking hands. The girl who can’t even shift.

“You,” he says, “can’t even defend yourself.”

Heat claws up my neck, my ears, my face. My vision blurs.

“I’m trying,” I manage. “I’ve been trying my whole life.”

“That’s the problem,” he answers. “At eighteen, you shouldn’t still be trying. You should already be standing beside me as my equal. Not hiding behind other wolves.”

A low laugh comes from the crowd.

My lungs burn.

Mira glides forward, placing a hand on his arm, eyes wide in pretend concern. “Liam, maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Don’t.” His tone is sharp enough to cut. “I won’t lie to my pack.”

He lifts his chin, projecting his voice so everyone hears.

“I, Liam Blackwood, future Alpha of Nightfall Pack, reject you, Aria Hale, as my mate.”

The bond inside me tears.

Not a clean cut.

A savage, ripping pain that sears through my chest and back, like claws dragging down my heart.

My knees buckle. The tray falls from my hands, glasses shattering across the floor. Liquid splashes my legs, cold.

Somewhere, someone laughs.

I can’t breathe.

The rejection should ease the pain after a moment—that’s what I’ve heard. Once both wolves accept it, the bond dissolves.

But it doesn’t ease.

It grows.

Because he’s not done.

“I reject you,” he adds, “for the sake of my pack’s strength. I will not be bound to a weak mate.”

Every word is another twist of the knife.

I can feel my wolf—or whatever is trapped behind that mental door—slamming against it, enraged, wounded.

Let me out.

Let me out.

LET ME OUT—

Nothing opens.

Nothing helps.

“Say it,” Liam orders, eyes locked on mine. “Accept my rejection, Aria.”

My mouth is dry.

If I accept, the pain will stop.

If I accept, it’s over.

No mate. No bond. Nothing.

But the other option is worse.

Endless pain. A bond that pulls one way, never answered.

A life spent aching for someone who looks at me with disgust.

I swallow, tasting blood where I’ve bitten my tongue.

“Aria,” Aunt Lila hisses from somewhere behind me. “Do it.”

Do it.

Don’t embarrass us more.

I straighten my spine, even as my body shakes.

“I…” My voice splinters. I force it back together. “I, Aria Hale, accept your rejection.”

The words taste like glass.

The pain explodes.

For a second, I think I might actually die.

It’s like the bond is being yanked out of my chest by a hook, dragging heart, lungs, every piece of me with it. My vision goes white around the edges.

I hit the floor on my knees.

A sound rips out of me, half sob, half animal, raw and ugly.

Then, just as suddenly as it came, the pain goes quiet.

Not gone.

Not healed.

Just… numbed. Hollow.

Like someone scooped everything out of me and left an echo.

The hall comes back into focus in pieces.

The Beta looking away. Gamma Kane’s jaw tight, but he says nothing. Wolves whispering behind their hands, eyes bright with gossip.

“Wolfless and mate-less,” someone murmurs. “The Goddess really does have a sense of humor.”

Mira’s voice rises like honey laced with poison.

“Don’t worry, Aria,” she says sweetly. “I’m sure there’s some poor, desperate wolf out there who won’t mind taking you in. Eventually.”

She slips her arm through Liam’s.

He doesn’t look at me again.

The Alpha clears his throat, as if they’ve just finished a mildly awkward toast instead of publicly tearing my soul out.

“Tonight is still a night of celebration,” he announces. “The Moon has other plans for my son. For our pack. We move forward.”

Music starts up, too loud.

Wolves return to their drinks, their laughter.

Stepping around me like I’m a spilled drink on the floor.

I stare at the tiles.

My hands.

The glittering shards of glass.

This is it, then.

The great love story I secretly dreamed about in the dark when no one was watching.

Over in under three minutes.

Aunt Lila’s fingers clamp around my arm, yanking me up none too gently.

“Get up,” she mutters, lips tight. “You’re making us look pathetic.”

“I…” My tongue feels thick.

Her nails dig into my skin. “What did you expect? That the future Alpha would actually choose you? You should be grateful he did it now, before things got… complicated.”

Complicated meaning what? Before I moved into the Alpha House? Before we marked each other?

Before I got to be happy for more than half a heartbeat?

“I didn’t ask for this,” I whisper.

“I know,” she says, surprisingly soft for half a second. “That’s the problem.”

She releases me with a sharp exhale.

“The Alpha has made his decision,” she continues briskly. “And so have I. You can’t stay here.”

The words land like a second rejection.

“What?” My voice squeaks. “You’re my family.”

“I took you in for six years,” she says. “Fed you. Clothed you. Housed you while you contributed nothing. The pack talked. I defended you. But now…”

She glances around at the eyes on us.

“Now?” I rasp.

“Now you’re not just wolfless,” she says quietly. “You’re the girl the future Alpha rejected in front of everyone. Keeping you under my roof would make us a joke.”

My stomach drops into my shoes.

“You’re kicking me out,” I say slowly.

She doesn’t contradict me.

“The Alpha has already decreed it,” she says. “You’ll be escorted to the border at sunrise. It’s decided.”

My mind spins.

Border.

Alone.

No pack. No money. No job. No wolf.

“What am I supposed to do out there?” I ask, a small, hysterical laugh escaping. “Open a bakery with my personality?”

Her mouth twitches, but not with amusement.

“You’re young. You’ll figure it out. Humans live without packs all the time.”

“I’m not human,” I say, stung. “I’m—”

“What?” she asks sharply. “What are you, Aria?”

The answer dies on my tongue.

Silence stretches between us.

“Exactly,” she says. “Pack warriors will come for you at dawn. Don’t make a scene. You’ve humiliated yourself enough for one lifetime.”

She turns and walks away, already fussing with the table arrangements, as if my entire world hasn’t just shattered.

My legs move on autopilot.

I slip out the side door into the cool night air.

The forest smells the same as always—pine, earth, the faint tang of river—but it feels different now.

Smaller.

Colder.

I tip my head back.

The Moon is rising, full and bright, staring down at me with indifferent light.

“What was that?” I whisper. “A joke? A test? Do you just… hate me?”

A breeze lifts my curls.

No answer.

I wrap my arms around myself and sink down on the steps, the faint thud of music and laughter leaking through the walls behind me.

Inside, wolves are toasting to the future.

Outside, the girl they decided doesn’t belong anywhere sits under a sky that suddenly feels too big.

For a long time, I feel nothing.

Then, slowly, something else creeps in.

Not hope.

Not yet.

Anger.

It starts as a warm coil in my stomach, wrapping itself around the hollow space Liam left behind.

He rejected me like I was trash.

The pack nodded along.

My own aunt handed me to the border like a problem being returned to the manufacturer.

The worst part?

They all think the story ends here.

Aria Hale, wolfless orphan, rejected mate, vanishes quietly into the human world and is never spoken of again.

The coil of anger tightens.

“No,” I say softly.

The word hangs in the air, a tiny, stubborn thing.

“No,” I repeat. “You don’t get to break me and just… move on.”

My wolf stirs faintly behind the locked door.

A low, distant growl.

Finally.

“Where were you when I needed you?” I whisper.

Silence.

But the growl comes again, closer this time.

Not weak.

Not small.

Trapped.

Just like me.

I drag in a shaky breath and stand.

If they’re going to throw me away at dawn, fine.

But I’m not going to the border like a broken thing.

I’ll stand tall.

I’ll walk out of here on my own feet.

And one day, somehow, I will make every single person who laughed tonight regret it.

I just don’t know yet that my revenge starts with a stranger in a black car… and a last name that matches the man who shattered me.

(Aria’s POV)

Dawn comes too fast.

I barely sleep.

Every time I close my eyes, I see Liam’s face as he said, I reject you, like he was spitting something bitter out of his mouth.

By the time the first pale light seeps through my tiny window, my bag is packed.

There isn’t much to pack.

A few clothes. Two old books my mother loved. A cracked photo frame with the three of us before the rogue attack took them. A small, smooth stone my father once told me was lucky.

Apparently it’s been on break.

I zip the bag up and take one last look at the room.

The thin mattress. The peeling paint. The small, grimy window.

I used to dream of leaving this place as a victorious warrior, promoted to the Alpha House, my room replaced with something big and sunlit.

Now I’m leaving because they threw me out.

“Time,” a voice calls from the corridor. Flat. Impersonal.

Not even a knock.

I open the door.

Two warriors wait outside. Both in casual clothes, but their posture is all business. One of them—Jace—won’t quite meet my eyes.

“The Alpha said to escort you to the border,” he says.

“Escort,” I repeat. “Such a nice word for exile.”

His jaw tightens.

The other warrior, Milo, shrugs, clearly less bothered. “Could be worse. You could be leaving in a body bag.”

“Wow,” I say. “I feel so much better now.”

Milo grins like he’s done me a favor.

Jace steps forward. “We’re to make sure you don’t cause… trouble.”

“I’ve never caused trouble in my life,” I say. “That’s half the problem.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk past them.

No one stops me.

No one says goodbye.

In the kitchen, omegas are already cleaning up from last night’s feast. A few glance up as I pass. One offers a flicker of sympathy. Most look away quickly, like my bad luck might be contagious.

At the main hall, the doors are still closed. I can smell stale alcohol, perfume, and the sour tang of old humiliation under the wood.

I keep walking.

Outside, the morning air is cool and damp, mist curling low over the trees. Birds chatter as if nothing earth-shattering happened last night.

We head down the path that leads away from the pack house, past the training grounds.

I pause for half a second, staring at the empty field.

This is where I tried, again and again, to summon a wolf that refused to answer.

Where I was laughed at. Taunted. Pushed down.

Where I felt a presence last night, angry and huge, slamming against a door that wouldn’t break.

My chest tightens.

“Keep moving,” Milo says. “We’re not here for a memory tour.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a glare.

I keep moving.

The forest shifts as we walk. The well-worn paths give way to quieter trails, less used. The trees grow thicker, older. The air smells sharper, like pine and distance.

“The Alpha is being generous, you know,” Milo comments. “Most packs wouldn’t bother with an escort for a rejected wolfless. They’d just toss you out of the gate and lock it.”

“Is that your way of saying I should be grateful?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Just telling the truth.”

Jace shoots him a look. “Enough.”

We fall into silence.

The border isn’t a visible line in the dirt, but every wolf knows where it is. The trees thin out ahead, giving way to a narrow road that leads towards the human town.

My heart starts pounding as we approach.

This is it.

Once I cross, I’m not Nightfall anymore.

No pack link. No territory. No home, even if it was never much of one.

“Here,” Jace says quietly when we reach the last line of trees. “This is far enough.”

I stop.

The road stretches ahead, empty and grey, cutting through the mist like a scar.

“So,” I say. “Do I get a farewell speech? A plaque? A ‘thanks for being such a convenient punching bag all these years’ medal?”

Milo snorts.

Jace winces. “Aria…”

“Save it,” I cut in.

If he says something that sounds like pity, I might actually cry.

I refuse to give this place my tears.

“Any instructions for your ex-mate?” I ask instead, voice sweet. “Want me to tell Liam anything if I ever see him again? ‘Thanks for the public character assassination’ maybe?”

Milo shifts uncomfortably. “Watch it.”

“Why?” I ask. “What’s he going to do? Reject me twice?”

Jace scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, it’s done. You just need to… move on. Build a life somewhere else.”

“Right,” I say. “I’ll just pop into town and pick up a nice little ‘Life Starter Pack’—job, house, fully functioning wolf, maybe a mate who doesn’t hate my existence.”

Milo mutters something under his breath about me being dramatic.

I ignore him.

Instead, I take a step forward.

The air tingles as I cross the invisible line that marks the border.

There’s no physical barrier. No fence. No wall.

Just a sudden, sharp sense of… absence.

Like walking out of a warm room into a cold one.

The background hum I never really noticed before goes quiet.

No faint distant awareness of other wolves. No soft buzz of pack energy in the back of my mind.

Silence.

I swallow.

This is what alone feels like.

“By order of Alpha Blackwood,” Jace says formally behind me, “you are no longer a member of Nightfall Pack. You are barred from this territory unless expressly invited by the Alpha.”

I turn.

The two warriors stand just inside the border, the forest behind them.

Home.

Past tense.

Something hurts in my chest, sharp and sudden.

“Got it,” I say.

We stare at each other for a moment.

Jace opens his mouth like he wants to say something else.

Then he shuts it.

“Take care of yourself, Aria,” he says finally.

Milo gives me a half-hearted salute. “Try not to get eaten by rogues.”

“Try not to trip over your ego,” I shoot back automatically.

He smirks.

They turn and disappear into the trees, swallowed up by the shadows.

I stand on the road, alone, listening as their footsteps fade.

That’s it.

Years of my life, wiped out in under ten minutes.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

The human town is a few miles away. I could walk there, find some cheap room, pick up odd jobs. Humans won’t care that I have no wolf. They’ll just think I’m another broke girl with bad luck.

It would be simple.

Boring.

Safe.

I take one step forward.

Headlights wash over me.

I freeze.

A low purr of an engine grows louder, cutting through the morning quiet. A sleek black car emerges from the mist, gliding down the road like some kind of predator cloaked in polished metal.

It slows as it nears me.

My heart trips over itself.

Maybe it’s a random human on their way to work.

Maybe it’s somebody lost.

Maybe this is how horror stories start.

The car stops a few meters away.

For a second, nothing happens.

Then the back door swings open, smooth and silent.

A man steps out.

I recognize him from pack rumors before my brain even catches up with my eyes.

Tall. Broad shoulders wrapped in a dark, perfectly cut suit that doesn’t belong this close to the forest. Black hair a little too long, like he doesn’t care enough to keep it as neat as his younger brother’s. Sharp jaw. Mouth set in a hard line.

Eyes like winter.

Damien Blackwood.

Liam’s older brother.

The one who left the pack years ago, choosing the human world and its money over wolf politics.

The one Liam never talks about.

The one I’ve only seen once, from a distance, when I was fourteen and hiding in a crowd as he argued with the Alpha outside the pack house, his voice low and lethal.

Now he’s standing on the road in front of me, hands in his pockets, looking at me like he just found something interesting on the side of the road.

The scent that hits me is familiar and not.

Blackwood.

But colder. Sharper. Edged with city and power and something electric.

My battered, still-aching heart stutters for a completely different reason.

“Aria Hale,” he says.

His voice is deep, smooth, carrying easily in the morning air.

He doesn’t ask if that’s my name.

He already knows.

My fingers tighten on the strap of my bag.

“Damien,” I say before I can stop myself.

Because what do you call a man like this? Mr Blackwood sounds too small. Sir would kill me on the spot.

One dark brow lifts. “We’re on first-name terms already?”

Heat crawls up my neck.

“I—sorry. I mean—why are you here?”

“Straight to the point.” He nods slightly. “Good. Saves us both time.”

He glances past me, eyes skimming the tree line, the invisible border.

“Your escort left you,” he observes. “Efficient.”

“I think ‘dumped’ is the word you’re looking for.”

His gaze returns to me.

Up close, there’s something… dangerous about him. Not in the raw, bright way Liam’s power feels. Liam is a bonfire everyone is drawn to.

Damien is a black hole.

Quiet.

Deadly.

“You were banished,” he says. Not a question.

“News travels fast,” I mutter.

“Some decisions echo,” he replies. “Especially when they’re made loudly in a room full of people who can’t keep secrets.”

I flinch.

He saw.

Or at least, he heard.

Of course he did.

A rejected mate is gossip crack.

“So?” I fold my arms, even though I’m pretty sure he could snap me like a twig without breaking a sweat. “Are you here to join the laughter? Get a good look at the pathetic wolfless reject before you head back to your skyscrapers?”

One corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he’s amused.

“Do you always greet strangers this politely?” he asks.

“You’re not a stranger,” I say before my brain can throw up a stop sign. “You’re the Blackwood who left.”

Silence stretches.

A bird chirps somewhere in the trees, oblivious.

“That’s one way to describe it,” he says finally. “Another is: the Blackwood who didn’t want to rot under someone else’s thumb.”

His gaze sharpens.

“For what it’s worth,” he adds, “I don’t find your humiliation particularly entertaining.”

“Wow,” I say. “What a relief. I was so worried about your opinion.”

His eyes narrow the tiniest bit.

Not angry.

Interested.

Like I’m a problem he’s trying to solve in his head.

“Get in the car, Aria,” he says.

I blink.

“What?”

He gestures lazily to the open door. The interior glints with black leather and the faint promise of warmth.

“It’s cold,” he says. “You’re shaking. You have nowhere to go. Get in the car.”

My spine stiffens.

“My exile, my problem,” I say. “I don’t need a ride from a man whose brother just set me on fire in public.”

His jaw ticks at the mention of Liam, a tiny, almost imperceptible motion.

“Liam is many things,” he says. “Subtle is not one of them.”

“That’s one way to say ‘massive jerk.’”

The ghost of a smile brushes his lips and vanishes.

“I’m not here on his behalf,” Damien says.

“Then why are you here?” I demand. “Did you just happen to be driving by the exact border I was dumped at, at the exact time I was dumped, in the exact terrifying luxury car I would least expect to see next to a pine tree?”

His eyes glint.

“No,” he says. “I rarely ‘happen’ anywhere.”

He takes a step closer.

He doesn’t touch me, but his presence hits like a wave.

My wolf—distant, locked, sulking—suddenly stirs.

Not like with Liam.

That was an explosion. A wild, overwhelming pull.

This is different.

A low, curious rumble, like a massive creature turning its head in the dark.

What is that?

Who is that?

Mine?

Not mine?

Confused.

Same, girl.

Same.

Damien’s gaze flickers, like he’s sensing something too.

Interesting.

He leans in just enough that only I can hear the next words.

“I’m here,” he says softly, “because my brother is an idiot.”

I blink.

“That’s… not exactly breaking news.”

“And because,” he continues, as if I didn’t speak, “the pack just dumped something very valuable at the edge of its territory.”

My laugh comes out brittle. “Me? Valuable? Did you hit your head on the way here?”

“Not to them,” he says. “To me.”

The words land with more force than they should.

I suddenly feel very aware of my wrinkled clothes, my puffy eyes, the faint tremble in my hands.

“What do you want?” I ask, voice low.

He straightens, the warmth from a second ago gone, replaced by cool detachment.

“A mutually beneficial arrangement,” he says. “You need somewhere to stay, money, protection from any rogues or… petty pack revenge. I need…”

He pauses.

For a moment, something flickers across his face—something sharp and hungry and old.

Then it’s gone.

“I need someone your brother underestimated,” he finishes calmly. “Someone with a reason to hate him as much as I do.”

A shiver slides down my spine.

He’s offering me safety.

He’s also offering me a war.

“Come with me,” he says quietly. “I’ll give you a home. I’ll teach you to defend yourself. And one day, if you still want it…”

His eyes burn into mine.

“I’ll help you make them all regret what they did to you.”

The forest seems to hold its breath.

The human town is still behind me.

Normal. Small. Probably full of boring jobs and people who don’t know what a mate bond is.

In front of me stands a Blackwood with winter in his eyes and a promise of power on his tongue.

Behind me lies a pack that chose to laugh instead of help.

My wolf paces behind the locked door, restless.

Hungry.

Choose.

“I don’t trust you,” I say.

“Good,” Damien replies. “You shouldn’t.”

He inclines his head toward the car.

“Get in anyway.”

I stare at him.

At the trees.

At the empty road.

At my own shaking hands.

Then I square my shoulders, sling my bag higher, and step toward the open door.

“If I end up dead in a ditch,” I mutter as I slide into the leather seat, “I’m haunting you.”

Damien’s mouth curves, the barest hint of a smile.

“We’ll try to avoid that,” he says.

He closes the door with a soft click.

As the car pulls away from the border, Nightfall Pack disappears in the rearview mirror.

I don’t know where I’m going.

I don’t know what he really wants.

But I know one thing with bone-deep certainty:

For the first time in my life, I am not walking away from a place that doesn’t want me.

I’m driving toward something.

I just don’t realize yet that the something is a cold billionaire with a crown he doesn’t wear, a kingdom in the shadows… and a claim on my fate that will change everything.

(Aria's POV)

The car ride from the border feels unreal - too smooth, too quiet, too deliberate. Damien Blackwood sits across from me like a storm disguised in a suit, scrolling through his phone as if he didn't just rescue his brother's rejected mate from exile.

I can't stop staring out the window. Forest turns into road. Road becomes small human buildings. Then everything explodes upward into tall towers and glittering glass.

"Are you always this... decisive?" I ask.

Damien doesn't look up. "I dislike wasted time."

Right. Of course he does.

The city grows around us - tall, sharp, intimidating. I swallow. The tallest building streaking the sky looks like it was built to house secrets. And men like him.

We descend into an underground parking level where the lighting is bright enough to hurt. No dirt. No oil stains. The kind of place where even shadows behave.

He steps out first. "Come."

I follow him to a private elevator that has no buttons. Just a glowing panel. He presses his thumb against it, and the doors slide shut, trapping us together in a silence that's somehow louder than wolf howls.

The elevator shoots upward.

My stomach drops. "How many floors?"

"The top."

Of course.

When the doors open, we step into a private landing - dark wood, soft lighting, one massive door. No neighbors. No noise. Just Blackwood territory in skyscraper form.

Damien unlocks the door with another thumbprint. When it opens, I forget how to breathe.

The penthouse is enormous, clean, impossibly elegant. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the entire far wall, spilling sunlight onto pale stone floors. The city sprawls below like a glittering map. A huge grey sectional couch angles toward a modern fireplace. Plants in black pots soften the edges.

It's beautiful.

Cold.

And nothing like me.

"Shoes," a sharp voice snaps.

I jump. A woman in her forties stands near the kitchen entrance, hair in a tight bun, expression sharper than broken glass.

"Off," she says. "Now."

I yank my boots off immediately. She eyes my socks. There's a hole in one toe. Perfect.

Damien gestures toward her. "This is Marta. She manages the household."

Manages. Like a general manages an army.

Marta studies me like she's sizing up a new recruit. "So this is her."

Aria Hale: her.

My cheeks heat. "Aria. That's my name."

"Good." She nods. "We'll use it."

"What exactly did you tell her about me?" I murmur to Damien.

He ignores that. "Marta will show you the basics."

"Basics?" I repeat.

"Try not to break anything," Marta says. "Everything in here is worth more than you."

I blink. "I... don't know whether to be insulted or impressed."

"Both," she says.

She marches toward the kitchen. I follow because she radiates the kind of energy that makes wolves obey.

The kitchen is sleek: marble counters, steel appliances, perfect organization. She places a plate in front of me - toast, eggs, avocado slices.

My stomach growls so loud she raises an eyebrow.

"Eat," she orders. "You look like someone who's been living on bad decisions and air."

I shovel in food before dignity catches up.

When I finish, she hands me water. "Tour."

We move through the penthouse. Living room. Silent hallways. A study with glass walls and more screens than the Alpha's war room. A laundry room that looks like it was designed for NASA.

Finally, she stops at a door and pushes it open.

"Guest room," she says.

It's basically a small apartment: massive bed, soft carpet, a wall of windows, a walk-in closet.

Inside the closet are clothes.

Clothes in my size.

"How did-?"

"Eyes," Damien says from behind us, making me jump. "And tailors."

Marta gestures toward the bathroom. "Shower has instructions. Follow them unless you want to flood the room."

"Has that happened before?"

"Twice."

I decide not to ask who.

Damien steps forward. "Rest. Shower. Then we talk."

He leaves without waiting for a response.

I shower. The hot water feels sinful after years of freezing pack bathroom temperatures. Steam fills the room. For one brief moment, something inside me stirs. A flash of silver fur. Gold eyes. A low rumble.

My wolf.

The sealed door in my mind shakes, cracks, then stills.

Not ready yet.

When I finish, I slip into soft leggings and a clean T-shirt. The fabric hugs me like comfort itself - a reminder that I am not in the pack anymore. I am somewhere entirely different.

I find Damien in the living area, framed by the city beyond the windows. He has rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie. He looks... less like an Alpha and more like a man who knows exactly how to command a boardroom and a battlefield.

"Sit," he says.

I sit.

He remains standing, hands in his pockets, studying me like I'm a puzzle piece that belongs somewhere specific.

"Let's establish the rules," he says.

My stomach tightens. "Rules?"

"Yes." He walks closer. "Rule one: You do not leave this building without my permission."

I stiffen. "Is that... a prison?"

"It's protection," he corrects. "You're vulnerable. The pack may regret their actions. Rogues may smell weakness. Humans are unpredictable." His eyes lock on mine. "You stay where I can keep you alive."

The bluntness makes my throat close.

"Fine," I say softly. "Next?"

"Rule two: No contact with Nightfall Pack. Especially Liam."

My jaw clenches. "I don't want to talk to him."

"Good," Damien says. "Let him drown in the consequences of his stupidity."

A sharp, involuntary shiver runs down my spine at the way he says it - cold, almost satisfied.

"Rule three," he continues. "You tell me immediately if anything unusual happens with your wolf."

My pulse jumps. "Why do you think something will happen?"

"Because you should have collapsed after that rejection." His voice is calm but certain. "Instead, you walked out of the forest, boarded my car, and ate a full meal."

"Maybe I'm numb."

"No." He sits across from me. "Your wolf is sealed. Hidden. But not gone. Last night cracked her cage."

Heat spreads through my chest - a mix of fear and relief and something like awakening.

"Rule four," he says, "you train with me. Properly. No more mockery from boys who don't know real strength."

I swallow. "What kind of training?"

"Mental first," he says. "Then physical. Control. Strength. Command."

"Command?" I echo.

His eyes narrow like he's seeing something in me I can't yet feel. "You have power, Aria. More than you know. And power without control is a threat - to you and everyone around you."

He stands. "Training starts tomorrow at six."

"Six in the morning?" I ask, horrified.

"Welcome to improvement."

I groan. He smirks - barely, but enough.

He steps toward the hallway. "Rest now. You'll need it."

Before he disappears into the study, he looks back.

"And Aria?"

"Yes?"

"You are not weak," he says quietly. "But if you insist on acting like you are, this city will eat you alive."

I feel the words settle deep - somewhere my wolf can hear.

When he leaves, I sit there for a long moment, staring at the skyline.

Everything I knew is behind me. Everything unknown is ahead.

And strangely?

For the first time since Liam's rejection shattered me, the future doesn't feel like a threat.

It feels like a challenge.

And I'm ready to rise to it.