Chapter 5 — Tides of War

The hall felt colder after Killian’s confession. His silver eyes stayed locked on mine, unflinching, as if daring me to deny what he’d just said.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness, Aria,” he said, voice low and steady, “I’m asking for a chance to protect what’s mine.”

My heart pounded painfully. Protect? He hadn’t been there when I bled under the moonlight, when I ran barefoot through the forest carrying his child. He hadn’t protected me from the whispers, from the shoves, from the pitying glances.

Luca shifted in my arms, his small head resting against my shoulder, unaware that the man before us was the reason he’d never known a father. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of five years crash down in a single moment.

“You forfeited that right the night you rejected me,” I said, my voice trembling but firm. “You forfeited it when you turned your back on your mate… and your son.”

Killian flinched almost imperceptibly. “I didn’t know about him.”

“You didn’t care enough to find out,” I shot back, clutching Luca tighter.

Silence stretched between us. The fire in the hearth crackled, a sharp contrast to the ice settling in my chest. Behind Killian, a few pack members lingered, pretending to busy themselves but clearly eavesdropping. The weight of their stares made my skin crawl.

Killian’s jaw tightened. “They’ll have to accept you. All of you. Or they’ll answer to me.”

I almost laughed. “Do you think it’s that easy? That your word will erase five years of hatred? That it will heal what you broke?”

A muscle in his cheek ticked. “No. But it’s a start.”

I turned away, because if I kept looking into those eyes, I’d start remembering the way they used to soften for me. The way they used to look before the rejection. I couldn’t afford to remember that.

“Aria,” he said, softer now, almost a plea. “Let me prove myself.”

I hesitated, my back to him. The rational part of me screamed no. But the mate bond… that cursed, unrelenting thread between us… it hummed like a living thing, tugging at my resolve.

Before I could respond, the door burst open.

“Alpha!” A warrior stumbled in, panting, blood smeared across his armor. “Rogues—north border! They’ve breached the line!”

Killian’s eyes snapped to mine for a split second, unreadable, before he was moving—fast, commanding. “Get the sentinels out there. Double the patrols. No one breaches the pack house. Go!”

The warrior bolted. Killian turned to me. “Stay here. Don’t go outside, no matter what you hear.”

“I’ve handled rogues before,” I said sharply. “I’m not helpless.”

He took a step closer, his scent wrapping around me—woodsmoke and danger. “I know exactly how dangerous you can be,” he murmured, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. Then it was gone, replaced by Alpha steel. “But I’m not risking you. Either of you.”

Before I could reply, he was gone, his boots pounding against the floorboards as he vanished into the night.

---

The next hour was a blur of shouts, distant snarls, and the metallic tang of blood drifting in from the open windows. I paced the guest chamber, Luca asleep in the bed, oblivious to the chaos outside.

A knock rattled the door. My heart lurched. “Who is it?”

No answer. Just another knock—slower this time.

I moved to the door cautiously, every instinct screaming at me to be ready. When I opened it, a woman stood there.

Tall. Elegant. Dressed in deep crimson that hugged her curves. Her black hair was twisted into a sleek knot, her eyes a cool, assessing green. And her scent… oh, Moon Goddess help me.

“Luna,” she said, her lips curling in something that might’ve been a smile if not for the venom in her tone.

“I’m not your Luna,” I replied, hand still gripping the door.

Her gaze swept over me, lingering on the bed where Luca slept. Her expression hardened. “You think waltzing back into this pack with a bastard child will make you queen?”

Anger flared hot in my chest. “Careful,” I said evenly. “Your tongue might get you into trouble.”

Her smile was razor sharp. “Trouble? Darling, trouble is letting you stay here when every she-wolf in this pack knows you don’t belong. And Killian—” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a purr. “—Killian doesn’t mate with weakness.”

My wolf snarled inside me, and before I could stop myself, I stepped into her space. “Funny,” I said, my voice low and dangerous, “because weakness doesn’t survive alone in the wild for five years. Weakness doesn’t kill rogues with her bare hands. Weakness doesn’t raise a child on her own while her so-called mate pretends she doesn’t exist.”

Her eyes flickered, just for a second, and I knew I’d struck a nerve. But she recovered quickly. “We’ll see how long you last this time.”

She turned on her heel and glided away, leaving the faint scent of jasmine and threat in her wake.

---

The door banged open moments later—this time it was Killian, his shirt torn, blood streaking his arm. My eyes scanned him instinctively. The cuts were shallow, but the tension in his frame was coiled tight.

“It’s done,” he said, closing the door behind him. “They’ve retreated. For now.”

“For now?” I echoed, brows knitting.

“They were organized,” he said grimly. “Too organized for common rogues. Someone’s directing them.”

A cold chill crept up my spine. “Who?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

He moved closer, his eyes softening briefly as they landed on Luca. “Was he alright while I was gone?”

I hesitated, torn between truth and pride. “We managed.”

“Aria—” He stopped, like he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure how. Then, finally: “I need you to stay here. For your safety. For his safety.”

I met his gaze steadily. “And if I refuse?”

His mouth twitched—not quite a smile, not quite frustration. “Then I’ll tie you to the bed if I have to.”

Heat flared in my cheeks, infuriating me. “You haven’t earned that right,” I snapped.

Something dark and conflicted moved in his eyes. “Then let me earn it.”

We stood there in tense silence, the pull between us taut and unyielding. And in that moment, I realized something dangerous: for all my anger, for all my pain, part of me wanted to let him try.

But I also knew—this wasn’t just about love.

This was about survival.

And I wasn’t sure which one of us would win.

This was the beginning of a war—a battle between love and pride, past wounds and future hope.

And I wasn’t sure who would survive it.