Chapter 24

"Alpha Blackwood. You have been summoned to answer questions regarding the injuries sustained by your daughter during the competition."

Darius's voice was formal. Precise. Every word placed like a stone in a wall. He sat on the raised platform alongside Orion, both kings in full royal regalia—crowns, ceremonial armor, the works.

Aria stood at the back of the throne room, hidden behind a column. She wasn't supposed to be here. Blake had told her about the summons in a whisper during breakfast, and she'd followed the guards to the throne room, slipping in through a side entrance.

Her father stood in the center of the room. He looked calm. Polished. The perfect Alpha—strong jaw, straight back, every hair in place. If you didn't know what he was, you'd think he was a good man.

Aria knew what he was.

"Your Majesties." Alpha Blackwood bowed low. "I'm grateful for your concern regarding my daughter. It's been a difficult time."

"We're told she was found in a corridor with three cracked ribs, a swollen eye, and extensive bruising," Darius said. "The incident was attributed to a rogue wolf. However, our investigation has found no evidence of any rogue wolf on the grounds that night."

A murmur ran through the small audience—a handful of council members and senior advisors. Knox among them, standing to the side with his hands clasped behind his back.

Alpha Blackwood's expression shifted to concerned father. It was a masterful performance.

"I heard about the attack and was horrified. Aria has always been... fragile. She takes after her mother in that way. Prone to accidents, to overexerting herself. Even as a child, she would come home with bruises she couldn't explain."

Aria's nails dug into her palms. Fragile. Prone to accidents. The lies he'd told her whole life, now spoken to kings with the same smooth confidence.

"Are you suggesting your daughter injured herself?" Orion asked. His voice was controlled, but Aria could hear the edge underneath. The wolf barely leashed.

"Not intentionally. But Aria has a history of... instability. After her mother's death—which occurred during childbirth—she's struggled with her sense of self. I've tried to protect her, but she's headstrong."

"Headstrong enough to crack her own ribs?" Darius asked, one eyebrow raised.

"The training exercises are demanding. And Aria entered this competition against my wishes. I love my daughter, Your Majesties, but she pushes herself beyond her limits. Always has."

The room was quiet. The council members nodded along. It made sense to them—a worried father, a reckless daughter, a tragic accident.

It made Aria want to scream.

She looked at Orion. His jaw was tight enough to shatter. His hands gripped the armrests of his throne, and she could see the wood cracking under his fingers. He wanted to stand up and call her father a liar. She could feel it through the bond—his rage, his helplessness, his fury at having to sit there and listen to lies.

Darius was unreadable. A wall of ice. But through the bond, Aria felt something different from him. Not rage. Patience. The cold, calculated patience of a man filing away every lie for future use.

"Thank you, Alpha Blackwood," Darius said evenly. "We appreciate your cooperation."

"Of course. Anything for my daughter's safety."

He said it without a flicker. Without a single tell. Twenty years of abuse, hidden behind a smile and a bow.

"One more question." Darius leaned forward slightly. "Why did you advise your daughter against competing?"

A pause. Barely noticeable, but Aria caught it.

"As I said. She's fragile. I didn't want her to be hurt."

"And yet she's placed in the top three in every trial so far. That doesn't seem fragile."

Alpha Blackwood's smile thinned. "Aria is talented. I've never denied that. But talent and stability are different things."

"Indeed they are." Darius sat back. "You may go."

Her father bowed again and walked out. As he passed Aria's column, she pressed herself flat against the stone. He didn't see her. But the air around him felt wrong—too still, too controlled. The calm before he broke something.

Or someone.

The throne room emptied slowly. Aria waited until the last advisor left, then slipped through the side entrance and circled through the servants' corridors to the passage that led to Darius's study.

She found both kings already there. Orion was pacing—no surprise. Darius sat behind his desk, very still.

"He's a liar," Orion said the moment Aria walked in. "Every word out of his mouth was garbage. Fragile? Prone to accidents? That man has been beating you your whole life, and he stood there and—"

"I know," Aria said.

"We couldn't challenge him." Darius's voice was flat. "Without evidence, without you willing to testify, it becomes our word against an Alpha's. And if we push too hard, people will ask why the kings care so much about one competitor's family drama."

"So he just gets away with it?" Orion's voice cracked with frustration.

"For now."

Aria sat down heavily. "He was good. Convincing. Even I almost believed him, and I'm the one he hit."

"He's had twenty-three years of practice," Darius said. "But practice doesn't make someone untouchable. It makes them overconfident." He looked at Aria. "He slipped once."

"When?"

"When I asked why he advised against the competition. He paused. Just for a beat. Because the truth—that he wanted you to fail publicly—doesn't match his concerned father act." Darius tapped his fingers on the desk. "It's a small crack. But cracks grow."

Aria wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe that one day, her father's mask would shatter and everyone would see the monster underneath.

But today wasn't that day.

"The Trial of Heart continues tomorrow," she said, changing the subject because she had to. "Two more days."

Orion stopped pacing. "You were brilliant today. The judges were practically glowing."

"Darius said to hold back."

"I said to be strategic," Darius corrected. "What you did today was instinct. You can't hold back instinct, and you shouldn't." A ghost of warmth crossed his face. "You were remarkable."

She almost smiled. Almost.

But the warmth faded when she thought about what was waiting for her tonight. Not the kings. Not the bond.

Her father. In his guest quarters. Watching the door. Waiting for her to return so he could remind her, with his fists and his words, that she belonged to him.

She wasn't going to her father's quarters tonight.

She wasn't going anywhere near him ever again.

"I need to ask you something," she said to both of them.

They waited.

"Can you move me? My room. Can you put me somewhere he can't find me?"

Orion and Darius looked at each other. That twin communication, silent and instant.

"Done," Darius said. "Tonight. Blake will handle the relocation."

"Won't people notice?"

"People will be told that all competitors are being relocated for security reasons following the rogue wolf incident." The corner of Darius's mouth twitched. "The rogue wolf story is finally useful."

Aria let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

Safe. For the first time since she could remember, someone was making sure she was safe.

It shouldn't have been this hard. It shouldn't have taken two kings and a secret conspiracy to get a girl away from her own father.

But that was the world she lived in. And she was done pretending otherwise.

After the meeting, Aria walked the long way back to her current room to pack her things. The corridors were quieter now—the dinner rush was over, and most competitors had retreated to their quarters.

She passed her father's guest wing without stopping. Didn't look at his door. Didn't slow down. Just kept walking, one foot in front of the other, like she'd done her entire life.

But something was different now. Before, she walked away from her father's fists because she had nowhere else to go. Now she walked away because she had somewhere better.

Somewhere with guards and wards and a Royal Gamma who would stand between her and any threat. Somewhere close to two men who would tear the world apart before they let anyone hurt her again.

Blake met her at the junction between the wings. He had a key in his hand and a guard at his side.

"Your new room is ready," he said. "West wing, second floor. Between my quarters and the guard station. Anyone who wants to reach you has to go through both."

She took the key. It was warm from Blake's hand.

"Blake."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything."

He shrugged, but his eyes were serious. "It's my job."

"It's more than that and you know it."

He held her gaze for a moment. Then he nodded once and walked away.

That night, in her new room with new walls and a new door and a lock that worked, Aria sat on the edge of the bed and cried.

Not from pain. Not from fear.

From relief.

It was a strange, dizzy feeling. Like putting down a weight she'd been carrying so long she'd forgotten it was there. The muscles ached where the burden had been. The emptiness felt wrong.

But under the emptiness was something else.

Freedom.

Small and fragile and new. But real.

She wiped her face and lay down. The bed was soft. The room was warm. The door was locked.

Tomorrow, the Trial of Heart would continue, and she would face it head-on.

But tonight, she was safe. And that was enough.