Aurora’s P.O.V
The tires crunched against the gravel road as we finally pulled into the DarkWater Pack’s territory. The journey had been long, but as we neared our destination, a different kind of weight settled over me. Anxiety, relief, and a strange sense of longing tangled together, making it hard to breathe. My fingers curled into the fabric of my pants, my knuckles turning white.
As soon as the car came to a halt, Caleb was already at my side, offering his hand. I didn’t hesitate to take it, my legs slightly unsteady as I stepped out into the familiar land I once called home. The moment my feet touched the ground, a voice cut through the air, sharp and desperate.
“Aurora!”
My head snapped towards the entrance, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest. Riley.
Before my mind could even process it, my body was already moving. I broke into a run, my lungs burning as I closed the distance between us. Riley was running too, his arms wide open, his face a mixture of overwhelming relief and raw emotion. And then, we collided.
The impact nearly sent me stumbling, but he held me firm, arms locking around me in a way that felt like home, like safety. My breath hitched, and before I could stop myself, I was crying. Not the silent kind, but the full, body-wracking sobs that I had held back for too long. I gripped the back of his shirt tightly, burying my face into his tiny shoulder as if I could somehow make up for the time lost between us.
“I thought—I thought something happened to you,” Riley murmured, his voice shaking as he held me even tighter. “No one would tell me anything. They just kept saying you’d be back soon, but it wasn’t soon enough, Aurora. I was worried sick.”
I pulled back just enough to see his face, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening. My fingers trembled as I brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead, trying to steady myself through the storm of emotions raging inside me.
“I missed you too, Riley,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “So much.”
His hands tightened on my arms as if making sure I was real, like I wouldn’t disappear again.
“Are you okay? What happened? Where were you?”
I sucked in a breath, shaking my head slightly. “It’s… it’s a long story.”
His lips trembled, his eyes scanning my face for any signs of hurt. “Are you safe now?”
I nodded, despite the lingering shadows of everything I had endured. “I am now.”
Riley exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief before pulling me into another tight hug. “I won’t let anything happen to you again, Aurora. I promise.”
And for the first time in a long while, I believed him.
Even though he was only five, even though he would never be able to guess the gravity of what I had endured…I believed him, because Riley was my only family, my little brother who had been beside me through some of the darkest moment of my life. And I knew that we would be safe now.
I watched as Riley pulled away slightly, his hands framing my face as he searched my eyes with concern.
"Are you actually alright?" His voice was low, edged with worry, as if he needed to hear it from me to believe it. I forced a small smile, though my body still ached. "I’m okay, Riley. Really."
He didn’t seem convinced, his sharp gaze roaming over me, taking in every cut and bruise as if he could will them away just by looking at them. Only when he was satisfied—after a thorough inspection that left me feeling like I was under a microscope—did he finally let out a breath, the tension in his shoulders loosening ever so slightly.
"You scared me so much, big sis. Please…don’t ever do again, or I won’t forgive you!"
A pang of guilt struck me. "I know. I’m sorry," I whispered, meaning every word. If it weren’t for the pack healer in Alpha Jackson’s territory, I wasn’t sure if I would have even made it back in one piece. They had been kind enough to tend to my wounds, something I hadn’t expected but was eternally grateful for. Because if I hadn’t gotten better... Riley would have lost his mind. I saw it in the way he held me now, the desperation in his touch, the unspoken terror lingering in his eyes. He had thought he was going to lose me.
I wrapped my arms around him, holding on tightly, grounding myself in his warmth. "I’m here," I murmured against his shoulder. "I’m not going anywhere."
His grip on me tightened for just a second before he let out a heavy sigh, his head resting against mine. It was a moment of peace, a moment where we could just exist without the weight of everything else pressing down on us. But then, the moment shattered.
Riley’s body suddenly stiffened. I felt it immediately, the way his entire demeanor changed in an instant. My heart sank before I even turned around, already knowing what—or rather, who—had caught his attention. Slowly, I pulled away and followed his gaze over my shoulder.
Ashton, Maggie, and Avery stood a few feet away, silent and still, looking completely out of place. I could see it in their expressions—the uncertainty, the tension thick in the air. They didn’t belong here, and they knew it. And Riley? He definitely knew it too.
His grip on my arm tightened slightly as he asked the question I had been dreading. "Aurora... who are these people?"
My stomach twisted. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry, my mind scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t make everything worse. But what could I say? How could I possibly explain everything in a way that wouldn’t set Riley off?
Because the truth? The truth was complicated. And judging by the look on my brother’s face, he wasn’t ready for it by a long shot.
I don't know how to answer him. The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I can't bring myself to say them. Riley is watching me, his blue eyes so much like our mother's, filled with quiet expectation. And maybe that's what makes it worse. He doesn't know—he has no idea about the truth that has weighed on my shoulders for the past few days. He doesn't know that we're more than what he assumes us to be, that the blood running through our veins is the same, tangled in a history neither of us asked for.
I should tell him. Maybe, in some twisted way, he deserves to know. But what good would it do? The past won't change. Our mother’s suffering won’t be undone just because the truth is spoken aloud. And so, I keep my mouth shut, my fingers curling against the fabric of my sleeve as if that might somehow anchor me in place.
Riley tilts his head slightly, waiting. I need to say something. Anything. But my throat is dry, my mind blank, and I think he notices—because his brows draw together, confusion flickering in his gaze. Before he can press further, a voice cuts through the thick, suffocating silence.
"Aurora’s got new friends now," Ashton says smoothly, stepping forward like he was always meant to. His presence is steady, grounding in a way I desperately need. "And we’ll be staying nearby, if you’re okay with that."
I glance at him, grateful beyond words. He doesn't push, doesn't question, just fills the space I can't. I should thank him later—maybe I will, when I can breathe again.
Riley is silent for a moment, processing. His gaze flickers between Ashton and the others before finally settling on me again. There’s something unreadable in his expression, and for a second, I brace myself for resistance, for hesitation, for the questions I still won’t have the answers to.
But then he smiles, warm and unguarded. "That’s great!" he says, nodding enthusiastically. "I’m really glad you're making new friends, Aurora. You guys should stay as long as you want."
I exhale, my chest tightening with something I can't quite name. Relief? Guilt? A complicated mix of both? I don't know. What I do know is that I’ve been given an out, a chance to bury the truth a little deeper, and for now, I take it. I return Riley’s smile, even though mine feels just a little bit hollow.
"Thanks, Riley. I’m glad you like my new friends."
The moment Maya steps closer, her presence radiating warmth and authority, my heart clenches.
"Take Ashton and the girls to their rooms," she instructs, her voice firm but kind, ensuring they are given a place to rest, a place to finally breathe. "Alpha Camden will speak to them later."
The weight of everything presses on me—the fear, the uncertainty, the overwhelming relief of standing here, outside that wretched place I never thought I'd escape. Before I can process it, Maya moves, closing the space between us, her arms wrapping around me in an embrace so tight it forces the air from my lungs. For a second, I freeze, unaccustomed to such an open display of affection after all the years since I had lost my mother, but then, I melt into her warmth.
"I was so worried about you," she murmurs, her voice trembling slightly, as if she's been carrying the weight of my absence just as much as I have.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back the lump in my throat. "I never thought I'd make it out," I whisper, my voice breaking despite my best efforts to sound strong. "I thought I would die there. If Caleb and the others hadn’t found me when they did—" I cut off, unable to speak of the horrors any longer.
The confession is raw, torn from the depths of my soul, and I feel her tighten her hold on me as if she can piece me back together just by sheer force of will.
"But you did," Maya says fiercely, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes, her own gaze filled with determination. "You broke free, Aurora. You're safe now. And not just you—your siblings, too. You’re finally home, my child."
Home. The words feel foreign, like something I can’t quite grasp. It feels strange to hear that word after what I had endured. The pack was more of a home to me than my real house had ever been, but the last few days in captivity had made me fear that I would never see this home again. But now…I was here. It almost felt surreal.
Before I can spiral further, Maya takes my hand, grounding me. "Come," she says, a gentle but insistent pull leading me toward the packhouse. Caleb walks beside us, his silent presence reassuring, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel the crushing weight of despair. I don’t feel like an outsider, like someone barely holding on to the fringes of existence. Instead, I feel something unfamiliar, something terrifyingly fragile but undeniably real.
I feel like I’m home.