Chapter 18
For the next two weeks, Aria immersed herself completely in the remaining performances, leaving no mental space to dwell on Lucas or their unsettling reunion.
As the final curtain fell on their schedule, she welcomed her first real break in months, planning a solo road trip along the Southeast territory borders.
Just as she was comparing rental cars on her phone, an unfamiliar number lit up her screen. Against her better judgment, she answered.
“Luna Collins,” Michael’s voice was tight with barely suppressed urgency. “There’s been an incident with Alpha. He’s in a bad state. Please–if you could just come to the estate-”
Having survived three years of Lucas’s elaborate manipulations, Aria immediately recognized the familiar pattern of another manufactured “emergency.”
“I’m not qualified to handle whatever crisis Lucas has created for himself,” she replied evenly. “That stopped being my job when he arranged my death.”
Before Michael could launch into whatever script he’d prepared, she ended the call and promptly blocked the number, dropping her phone into her bag with a mixture of irritation and finality.
Twenty minutes later, settled in the back seat of an Uber, Aria gave the driver the address of the rental agency before closing her eyes for a much–needed power nap.
She awoke disoriented some time later to the driver announcing their arrival. Still groggy, she paid through the app and stepped out, only to find herself standing before the imposing iron gates of the Lucas’s den in the Thornwood Pack instead of the rental car office.
Realization hit with a jolt of anger. Either the driver had deliberately ignored her instructions, or someone had intercepted and changed her ride details remotely.
Just as she pulled out her phone to order another Uber, the den’s massive entry doors swung open. Davis, the Thornwood family’s long–serving pack guardian, emerged with several guards, their faces lined with evident relief.
“Luna!” Davis hurried down the steps. “Thank the Moon Goddess you’ve come back!”
Before she could articulate her protest, she found herself efficiently escorted through the marble
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foyer she had once called home.
Stepping back into this space sent an unexpected wave of déjà vu washing over her. Her hasty “death” had left everything preserved exactly as it had been–her dance theory books still stacked on the side table, her favorite cashmere throw draped over the sofa arm, even the half–finished cup of tea she’d left on the mantle the morning of the fire, now long since evaporated.
The effect was deeply unsettling, like walking through a museum exhibit dedicated to her former
life.
Davis hovered anxiously at her elbow, explaining the situation as he guided her toward the grand
staircase.
“Alpha Thornwood hasn’t been…functional…since encountering you at the hospital,” the older man
explained in hushed tones. “He’s refused all food for days, expelled his healer team, and has been drinking wolfsbane whiskey continuously. The pack is in freefall.”
The guardian’s voice dropped even further. “I know I had no right to bring you here under false
pretenses, miss, but I have to take some-” he hesitated, “-permanent solutions. I feared what might happen if I didn’t intervene.”
As they ascended the marble stairs, Aria struggled to maintain her emotional detachment. Part of
her insisted this was just another performance designed to manipulate her back into Lucas’s orbit.
Yet another part–the part that had once loved him beyond all reason–couldn’t help wondering if his apparent self–destruction might be genuine.
But if he truly loved her now, how could he have orchestrated three years of methodical humiliation
then? How could love and such calculated cruelty possibly coexist within the same person?
Davis paused outside the master suite, his hand hesitating on the ornate handle before gently
pushing the door open. Immediately, the overpowering stench of bourbon and unwashed male
assaulted her senses.
The once–immaculate room lay in near–total darkness, heavy blackout drapes drawn against the afternoon sun. In the dim light, she could just make out a figure slumped against the foot of the bed, surrounded by empty bottles and what appeared to be shattered picture frames.
She remained firmly in the doorway, turning to Davis with a coldly composed smile. “Well, he’s clearly still alive. I don’t see how my presence is required or helpful.”
The guardian’s eyes widened in alarm as she pivoted to leave. “Alpha!” he called desperately toward
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Chapter 18
the darkened room. “Luna Collins is here!”
At this announcement, the disheveled figure on the floor stirred, lifting his head with visible effort. Lucas squinted toward the doorway, struggling to focus through what was clearly several days‘
worth of intoxication.
When recognition finally penetrated the alcoholic haze, he scrambled to his feet with desperate energy, staggering across the room toward her.
“Aria!” Her name emerged as a broken plea.
Before she could step back, he had engulfed her in a clumsy embrace, his body radiating feverish heat and the sour smell of prolonged self–neglect.
“You came back,” he mumbled against her hair, his voice cracking. “Please–don’t leave again. I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything. Anything. Just don’t disappear. I can’t–I can’t do this without you.”
Mistaking her rigid posture for acceptance, he cradled her face in unsteady hands, leaning in with desperate intent. “Forgive me. Please forgive me. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you—”
The crack of her palm against his cheek echoed through the room like a gunshot.
Taking advantage of his stunned immobility, Aria shoved him forcefully away, putting several feet
between them.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, her carefully maintained composure finally
fracturing.
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