LOGINOne year ago, my Alpha mate personally threw me into the werewolf prison. I was tortured until the beautiful Luna I once was completely fell apart. What he never knew… was that I was carrying his pup. A year later, when I finally walked out of that prison, the first thing I did was reject him— and break our mate bond for good. So why is he the one crying and begging me to forgive him now?
View MoreAria's POV
They say freedom has a taste.
Mine tasted like blood and ash.
The iron gates of the werewolf prison shrieked open and I stumbled out in my ragged clothes, clutching my little pub in my arms, the only thing that mattered to me in this cruel world.
The cold hit like claws raking across my back, right over the half-healed lash marks. My wolf whimpered somewhere deep inside me, weak and battered. She used to be my strength. Now, she was as broken as I was.
I pulled Lana tighter against my chest, shielding her from the wind that howled like a mourning pack. She was the only warmth left in my world.
When the wind finally eased, I pulled back a corner of the worn blanket. My heart softened instantly.
"Lana," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "My sweet little pup."
She cooed softly, tiny lips puckering as her wide amber eyes blinked up at me, so innocent and pure. Her cheeks were soft and pink, a fragile bloom in a world that had gone gray.
Her tiny mouth opened, letting out a soft babble that melted my chest like sunlight through frost.
She didn't know she'd been born behind silver bars, in a cell that smelled of death.
She didn't know her father was the one who'd put me there.
A city bus screeched to a halt before us, its brakes hissing. I adjusted her carefully in my arms, wincing when the fabric scraped against the raw marks across my shoulder.
The guards used to say they were "reminding me of my place." One had shoved me into the silver cage and kicked me when I tried to shield my swollen belly.
I still heard the echo of his laughter sometimes when the night grew too quiet.
I climbed onto the bus, fumbling with the fare coins. My fingers were cracked and shaking.
The driver's eyes flicked toward me, just a second, but he looked away quickly. I bet he didn't know who I was, I wasn't surprised. I had become a shadow of myself, very unrecognizable. Spending long torturous months in prison would do that to you. Every bone in my body hurt; every step felt like walking through shards of glass.
I found a seat at the back, huddling into the corner as the engine groaned to life. My reflection in the window startled me. I had hollow eyes, a split lip, a scar running down my jaw.
Eighteen months ago, I used to be Luna Aria Hemsworth, wife to Nathan Hemsworth, Alpha of the Ironclaw Pack, a man who couldn't even look at me without disgust.
I shut my eyes and memories came unbidden. Memories of the day it all happened. I was in bed crying quietly into the sheets, wondering what I did to deserve the life I had.
I had been married to my husband for five years, a marriage devoid of warmth, love and intimacy. But the previous night, Nathan had came home late, reeking of whisky and despair. I remember helping him through the door, removing his shoes, washing his face. I gave him water to drink and helped him into the bed.
But as he slid beneath the covers, his hand clamped around my wrist, rough and cold.
"You've always wanted to trap me, haven't you?" he growled, his breath hot against my skin. "Getting my grandmother to pressure me about pups, that was your plan all along."
I shook my head, tears already blurring my vision. "Nathan, please, I—"
"Congratulations," he spat, yanking me closer. "You will finally get what you have always wanted."
He didn't wait for consent, he forced himself on me, taking my dignity roughly. That was not how I had envisioned my first night to be.
My wolf had screamed inside me, thrashing against the cage of my ribs, but I couldn't fight. I lay there, silent crying into the bedsheet until morning.
Then came the crash of the door, the enforcers bursting into the room. I was startled. They yanked me from the bed, half-naked and confused.
They didn't even give me time to breathe.
I remember grabbing the nearest jacket from the hanger before they dragged me out of the house, the same house I had turned into a home with my own hands.
Their shouts blurred with the pounding of my heart. My wolf howled inside me, confused and terrified, begging me to shift and run, but the silver cuffs clamped tight around my wrists burned her into silence.
They accused be of being a spy.
Said I'd been scheming with the Cowen's family to sell Hemsworth Group's files.
Lies. It was all lies.
The rain came down in cold sheets, soaking through my clothes as they shoved me into the courtyard. I stumbled, falling to my knees, the gravel biting into my skin. My hair clung to my face as I looked up at him—Nathan Hemsworth. My husband and Alpha.
"Nathan," I choked out, the word torn between a plea and a sob. "Please believe me. I didn't do it…"
My tears mixed with the rain, washing down the bruises on my face. For a moment, I thought I saw hesitation in his eyes, but no. His expression hardened, his lips curling with disgust.
"If your words could make you innocent, Aria," he said coldly, "what would we need the guards and the Council for?"
He stood beneath the eaves, his hands buried in his coat pockets, protected from the rain as if my suffering were a spectacle to him. My wolf whimpered, pressing against my heart, desperate to reach him through the bond, but he'd already walled himself off.
"There will be no reconciliation," he continued, his tone final and merciless. "No settlement. No matter how much you beg or offer. You will pay dearly for this betrayal."
Then he turned his back on me.
Just like that.
The Enforcers hauled me to my feet and dragged me away. My vision blurred, but I couldn't stop staring at him until the heavy car doors slammed shut. The marks from the night before still burned across my neck where he'd claimed me, where he'd accused me, then punished me like a criminal in our bed.
I can still feel the sting of his claws when I close my eyes.
Eighteen months have passed since then, even seasons have changed.
And now… now I'm free.
I looked down at the tiny bundle in my arms. My daughter, my miracle. Her soft breath brushed against my skin as she slept, innocent and perfect, untouched by the cruelty that brought her into this world.
I smiled weakly and planted a kiss on her forehead. "You're the only good thing that came out of that nightmare, my child" I whispered.
My wolf stirred gently within me.
I stared into space and made a vow never to forgive him for all the pain he had caused me. Nathan would never know about this child, our child. He forfeited that right the moment he cast me out like filth.
I'm done with him. Done with the pain. Done with being the weak Luna who begged for mercy.
Aria's POVWhen I arrived home, I stood in the doorway of the living room and did not announce myself.Lana was on the rug with a picture book, one hand on the page and the other ferrying a cookie to her mouth. She is a little over four years old now.Rowland was on the sofa, reading aloud with the exaggerated character voices he always used because Lana found them devastating.He looked up when I appeared. He always knew before I made a sound."Hey," he said.Lana turned, saw me, and dropped the book entirely. "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy—"I crouched and caught her, pressing my face into her curls and breathing her in the way I still did every time."You smell like sugar," I told her."Uncle Rowland gave me cookies," she said immediately. Lana had long decided honesty was simply the more efficient policy with me.I looked at Rowland over her head.He raised both hands. "She looked at me with that face. I'm only a wolf, Aria. I'm not made of stone."Lana turned her most serious expression on
Aria's POVThree Years LaterMy office had a window that faced west.I had chosen it for that reason. I loved the way the afternoon light came in at that angle and turned the whole room gold before the day ended. My grandmother had always said that people make better decisions in a good light. I did not know if that was true, but I had kept the habit of working in it.I leaned back in my chair and let the thought settle across the afternoon.The Darvin Group shares had collapsed in the six months following Patrick's sentencing, as such things do when the architecture of a company turns out to have been built partly on fraud.I had watched the numbers with the particular attention of someone who has done their homework, and was waiting for the right moment to strike. I had bought the shares at the bottom and climbed into the structure from the inside.I had spent the better part of a year rebuilding what could be rebuilt and discarding what couldn't, and now I sat in this office as its
Aria's POVI looked at Nathan, at the man I had once loved with the whole, uncomplicated faith of someone who had not yet learned that love was not the same as safety. At the man who had stood and watched me be led away. At the man who had cried in the hallway outside my door and signed divorce papers with a shaking hand.At the man who had helped me as much as he could in my quest to clear my name and make my father pay fof his crimes.He was all of those men at once. People were not simple. I knew that, but I was done, completely done with the man standing in front of me."No, I can't do that." I said.He closed his eyes briefly."Nathan." My voice was not unkind. "It's not that I don't believe you. I think something in you has genuinely changed and will continue to change."I held his gaze. "But change doesn't erase what was. And I can't unlearn what it felt like to be in that cell and know help wasn't coming. I can't undo what my wolf learned about what it felt like to need you an
Aria's POVPatrick pled not guilty despite all the evidence stacked against him. The DNA confirmation of Sophia's parentage was the moment his lawyer stopped arguing and started managing damage.The judge found him guilty and gave him fifteen years imprisonment.Patrick was led out with his face set into something rigid and furious, and as he passed my table, his eyes found mine.I smiled at him, just slightly, just enough.He looked away first.Margaret, still in the gallery, turned her face away from his as he was led past. He noticed. I watched him notice. Whatever else happened in the years ahead, Patrick Darvin would carry the memory of his wife unable to look at him out of the room.Sophia's case followed.Her performance held longer than I expected. She was better at it than Patrick, more practiced in a certain kind of self-presentation, more fluent in the language of innocence. She was a lawyer after all.But evidence does not care about performance, and when the final pieces












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