The Archive

Aria POV

I kept thinking about the photos and the list I showed Kieran before I left his office the previous night. It wasn’t strange that someone within his circle wanted him dead. I was used to being betrayed, so I knew it could happen. But what I found strange was how weak-minded Kieran had become. 

He was someone incredibly strong who would do anything to protect and strengthen his pack, even if it meant rejecting me as his mate. 

I reached for the clothes I left on my bed and started wearing them. It was jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. Nothing fancy, but practical. I didn’t want to dress too much or wear my hunter dress, so I wouldn't garner attention from pack members and start another topic that I was dressing too much or trying to be intimidating. So, I felt it was better to keep things simple. 

I picked up my phone from the nightstand and saw three missed calls from Marcus and one text.

Marcus: How’s pack life treating you? Try not to kill anyone, no matter how annoying they might be.

I almost smiled. Almost.

A soft knock interrupted me as I was about to reply to Marcus. “Yes, come in,” I called, expecting room service or Sarah again.

Instead, Kieran stepped through the door as I pulled it open, carrying a tray with coffee and what looked like breakfast pastries.

"Morning," he said, looking almost shy. "Thought you might be hungry."

Back when things were simple. Even the old Kieran never did anything like that when we were together. Back when things weren’t so complicated. 

"Thanks," I said finally, taking the tray from him. "You didn't have to."

“Right,” he said, lingering in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. “Slept well?”

“Yes, I did.” I lied. I’d spent most of the night listening to pack sounds and wondering if I should just leave before anyone else woke up. “You?”

“Same.”

"Okay."

We stood there for a moment, awkward as teenagers. It was ridiculous. We were both adults, both professionals. We could handle being in the same building without making everything weird. At least, that was what I thought. 

"I should check those pack records," I said, setting the tray down on the small table by the window.

"Right. Damien set up everything in the archive room. Genealogy charts, member files, correspondence going back fifty years."

"Good." I reached for my jacket. "The sooner we figure out who's doing this, the sooner I can get back to my life."

Something flickered across his face at that, but he just nodded. "I'll show you the way, but what about your breakfast?"

"It can wait."

We walked through the pack house in silence, passing early risers and heading to the kitchen for breakfast. A few of them bowed politely, while others stared openly from afar. I could hear their inner thoughts. Why is she still here? Is something going on between her and the alpha?

The archive was deep in the basement, with a small window at the top corner of the room filled with cabinets and boxes of documents. I noticed the desk was set up with a laptop and good lighting. I applauded their thoroughness mentally. 

“Everything is here,” Kieran said, pointing to the organized stack of files. “From birth records, death certificates, genealogy charts, to pack correspondence. Any connection my pack has with the Thornwick pack should be here somewhere. But, that’s if there’s any.”

I nodded, already scanning the materials. "This'll take hours."

"I can help…"

"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. "I like to work alone."

He was quiet for a moment. "Aria…."

"What!?" I asked, still maintaining a sharp tone.

“What you said about me not trusting Sophia. I’m afraid it might not be the case,” Kieran said, but I could feel the nervousness in his voice, as if he was walking on eggshells around me.

I kept my attention on the files, not trusting myself to look at him. "It looked like your ex-wife came to visit. Nothing more."

"She wanted to reconcile."

I froze with the papers in my hands. I hadn’t expected him to be so open about it. “And?”

“Of course I turned her down,” he said without batting an eye. I didn’t know why he didn’t tell me this the previous night, and that time we fought on the training ground. Did he think I’d feel pleased or what?

I couldn’t help but look directly into his eyes. Kieran was watching me with an intensity that made my chest tight. "Why are you telling me this?" 

"Because I don't want you to think... I don't want there to be any confusion about where I stand."

"Where do you stand?" I stood up, crossing my arms. "Kieran, you made your position pretty clear three years ago. You chose to pack politics over me. You chose a woman who could give you political advantages. The fact that it didn't work out doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything."

"No, it doesn't." I moved away from him, putting the desk between us. "You didn't reject me because you didn't love me. You rejected me because I wasn't good enough for your pack. Because I was weak and useless and a liability to your political future."

"That's not the case."

"Then what!?" I could feel old anger rising, hot and familiar. "You let them convince you I was worthless. You stood there and agreed when they said I'd never be strong enough to be an alpha's mate."

"I was wrong," he admitted, embarrassment displaying on his face.

"Yes, you were. But here's the thing, Kieran and I want you to listen quite attentively,” I said, my chest falling and rising in anger.

“I'm not the same person anymore. I'm not the girl who needed your validation, who lived for pack approval. I don't need you to tell me I'm strong enough now."

He stepped closer, his eyes intense. "I can see that. You're incredible, Aria. What you've become, what you've accomplished…."

"Stop." I held up a hand. "Just stop. I'm not here for your approval or your guilt or your newfound appreciation. I'm here to catch a killer."

"And then you'll leave again," he said, with sadness flicking through his eyes. 

It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "Yes."

My response hung between us like a sharp blade. I saw something go dark in his eyes, some hope I hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. I felt bad, but I wouldn’t let myself yield to him out of pity. 

"Right," he said quietly. "I'll let you work."

After he left, I sank back into the chair, my hands shaking slightly. That had been harder than I'd expected. Seeing the hurt in his face, hearing the regret in his voice, it would have been easier if he'd been cold or dismissive.

But I meant what I said. I wasn't the same person who'd left here three years ago, broken and desperate for belonging. I'd built a life, found my strength, and learned to stand on my own. And I wasn’t ready to be acknowledged by anyone now. They never believed in me in the first place, and he never believed in me.

I didn't need him anymore. So why did it still hurt so much?

I managed to force myself to focus on the files before me, diving into decades of pack history. Everything was documented methodically, making the file less complex for me. There was a pattern to everything, and the connection was there, only if you knew how to find it. I knew I was in for another investigation stress.