[POV: Hayden]
She didn’t look back once.
Aria moved ahead between the trees like a wraith, her steps soundless, her shoulders stiff. The moonlight filtered through the pines, casting shifting shadows that seemed to wrap around her as she walked.
I followed, not too close, not too far, unsure of how to close the distance between us without shattering the thin line of tolerance she still gave me.
I didn’t shift back immediately. I waited until we were alone, the rest of the patrol long behind us. Then, behind a thicket of trees, I returned to my human form.
Aria didn’t speak. Didn’t offer a glance. Just kept walking.
I matched her pace, watching the line of her jaw, the curve of her hands. There was still so much I didn’t understand about her—but I wanted to.
“Aria,” I tried carefully, “earlier… when you moved like that through the trees—disappearing, reappearing—I’ve never seen anyone move like that in wolf form. Was that… your shadow manipulation powers?”
She nodded once, not slowing. “It’s part of it. I’ve been practicing with Emmett and Russell. I can use the moonlight’s shadows to slip across small distances. Like stepping between cracks no one else sees.”
“That’s… incredible,” I said honestly. “I knew you were improving, but this… it’s rare. And powerful.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, though her voice made it clear she wasn’t sure why I was complimenting her at all. “Is that what you came to tell me? That I’m useful now?”
I frowned, lengthening my stride to catch up.
“No,” I said, more gently. “It’s not.”
She didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away when I reached for her hand. I took it carefully, halting her mid-step.
Her eyes lifted to mine—tired, wary, still guarded.
“I didn’t come out here to interrogate you,” I began, “and I didn’t follow you to lecture or accuse you. I came because I needed to say something. Something I should have said the moment I saw your face after reading that damned letter.”
I swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry.”
She blinked.
“For everything,” I continued. “For raising my voice. For doubting you. For treating you like you were just another threat when I should’ve known better. I’m the Alpha of this pack, yes—and I have to protect it. But that doesn’t give me the right to treat the people in it like they’re less than human. Or less than worthy of trust.”
Her lips parted, as if to say something, but I went on.
“You asked me what I wanted from you. And I didn’t answer, because I didn’t think I deserved to. But you deserve every answer.”
I paused, searching her face, but she just stared up at me, silent.
“I take rogue threats that seriously because four years ago… one of them took my mate from me. My Luna.”
She stiffened, just barely. I exhaled slowly, already feeling the pain of those words in my chest.
“She was...”
“I know,” Aria interrupted quietly.
I looked at her, surprised.
“Someone already told me about it,” she added, glancing away. “What happened to her. I never brought it up because I knew… it wasn’t mine to ask about. And I know what it’s like to have old wounds dragged into the light, so you have no need to bring that up now.”
Her voice was soft, but not cold. There was no bitterness in her tone. Just understanding. That quiet empathy hit deeper than any declaration of trust ever could.
For a moment, we stood in silence, only the forest breathing around us.
Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small leather cord. Dangling from it was a simple pendant—an old wolf fang, dulled with age, the tip inlaid with small blood-red rubies.
She blinked at it, confused.
“This belonged to my mother,” I said. “She had it enchanted by a witch. Said it would ward off evil and bring peace to the one who wore it. She gave it to me when I became an Alpha of our pack.”
I pressed it gently into her palm.
“I want you to have it.”
Her fingers curled around it instinctively, brows furrowing. “Hayden— No, I can’t—”
“You can,” I said. “And I want you to. I want you to have something that’s meant to protect. Something to remind you that this place can still be yours. That you deserve peace, Aria. You always have.”
Her breath hitched.
“And for the record,” I added, “whoever made you believe you were anything less than worthy of love and care—they were wrong. And if it takes the rest of my life to prove that to you, I will.”
She stared at me, stunned.
Color bloomed in her cheeks, and I reached up, brushing a thumb gently over the heat of her skin. She leaned into the touch, her eyes softening, lips parting.
“I mean it,” I whispered, my forehead tipping toward hers. “Let me prove it. Please.”
And when she didn’t pull away—when she closed her eyes and tilted her face up—I leaned in. Our lips were just about to touch.
Then a howl cut through the night. Urgent. Sharp. Not far off.
Another followed. Then a third.
The connection snapped instantly, instinct taking over. Aria stepped back. I turned toward the sound, eyes narrowing. Seconds later, a blur of motion burst through the trees.
Aaron.
His wolf shifted mid-stride, and he landed in a crouch, panting.
“Alpha,” he said breathlessly, eyes flicking between me and Aria, “you need to come. Now.”
“What is it?” I asked, already on edge.
“Strangers,” he said. “At the gate.”
I stiffened. “Who?”
“We don’t know yet. But they asked to speak to you. Said they came… for her.”
Aaron’s gaze flicked to Aria. And her face went pale.