Truth in the Current,*

*Chapter 4: 

The river was merciless.  

Ice-cold water clawed at Aria’s clothes, dragging her under before spitting her back up. She gasped for air, arms flailing until Lucien’s grip locked around her waist.  

“Hold on!” he shouted over the roar.  

She couldn’t answer. The current was too strong, pulling them through darkness and around jagged rocks. Every breath felt like a fight.  

Then, suddenly, the water calmed. The river widened into a shallow bend, and Lucien dragged her toward the bank.  

They collapsed onto the muddy shore, coughing and shivering.  

For a long minute, neither of them spoke. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the distant rush of water.  

Aria pushed herself up on trembling arms. Her dress was soaked, clinging to her skin. Blood and dirt streaked her arms from where the tunnel walls had scraped her.  

Lucien was already on his feet, scanning the trees. His shirt hung in tatters, and the cut on his ribs had reopened, staining his side red.  

“We’re not safe yet,” he said quietly. “They’ll check downstream.”  

Aria pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself to stop the shaking. “How far are we from Blackwood territory?”  

“Half a day’s run,” he replied. “If we move now.”  

She looked up at him, frowning. “You’re injured. You can’t run like that.”  

Lucien glanced down at his side like he’d forgotten it was there. “It’ll heal. Werewolves heal fast.”  

He paused, then added, “Unless you want to stay here and wait for the Crimson Fang to find us.”  

Aria got to her feet, wincing as pain shot through her ankle. She’d twisted it in the water.  

“Fine. But I’m not running. Not yet.”  

Lucien stepped forward, scooping her up before she could protest.  

“Then I’ll carry you.”  

---

The forest was silent as they moved. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting silver patches on the forest floor. Lucien’s pace was steady, careful not to jostle her ankle too much.  

Aria kept her eyes on the path ahead, but her mind was racing.  

Her father’s journal.  

Lucien had it. And if even half of what he said was true…  

“Why show me that now?” she asked suddenly.  

Lucien didn’t look down. “Because you deserve to know why your pack died. And because I need you to understand—I’m not the monster you think I am.”  

“You’re the Alpha of the pack that killed mine,” she said bitterly.  

“I’m the Alpha who found fifty bodies and buried them myself,” he replied. “I’m the Alpha who spent twenty years hunting the men who did it. And I’m the Alpha who almost killed you in that tower before I realized who you were.”  

Aria swallowed hard. “Who am I to you?”  

Lucien stopped walking. Slowly, he set her down against a tree, making sure she was steady before letting go.  

He crouched in front of her, close enough that she could see the gold flickering in his eyes.  

“You’re my mate, Aria. The bond chose you the moment I touched you in that tower. I can feel it in my blood, in my bones. It’s driving me insane.”  

Aria looked away. “Bonds can be broken.”  

“Not this one,” he said firmly. “Not without one of us dying.”  

Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating.  

Aria broke it first. “Let me see the journal.”  

Lucien hesitated, then reached into his coat. He pulled out the scorched leather book and held it out to her.  

Her hands shook as she took it. The cover was rough under her fingers, the silver insignia almost worn away.  

She opened it.  

The first page was dated twenty-two years ago. Her father’s handwriting was neat, careful.  

_“Today, Aria was born. She has her mother’s eyes.”_  

Tears pricked her eyes. She forced herself to keep reading.  

The entries were normal at first—hunt reports, pack meetings, notes about her childhood. But around page forty, the tone changed.  

_“Met with Marcus of the Crimson Fang tonight. He offered gold for patrol routes. I refused. For now.”_  

Aria’s breath caught.  

_“He came again. Said if I didn’t cooperate, they’d come for Aria. I can’t lose her. I can’t lose my daughter.”_  

Her hands trembled so badly she almost dropped the journal.  

_“I gave them the routes. Only the northern patrols. Just to keep her safe. God forgive me.”_  

The next page was torn out.  

Lucien watched her face carefully. “Keep reading.”  

Aria flipped the page.  

_“They lied. They took the routes and attacked anyway. My pack is dead. My wife is dead. I survived because I was out hunting with Aria. She doesn’t know. She can’t know.”_  

Aria closed the journal, her vision blurring.  

“It was blackmail,” she whispered. “He did it to protect me.”  

Lucien nodded slowly. “I know. I found the rest of the story in his letters to Marcus. He tried to warn me after the attack. I was too angry to listen.”  

Aria looked up at him, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You blamed him. You blamed me.”  

“I blamed myself more,” Lucien said quietly. “I was Alpha. It was my job to protect them. I failed.”  

For the first time, Aria saw it—not the ruthless Alpha, not the enemy. Just a man carrying twenty years of guilt.  

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “What happens now?”  

Lucien stood, offering her his hand.  

“Now, we find Marcus. He’s still alive. He’s the one who ordered the attack. And he’s the one who’s been hunting you.”  

Aria stared at his outstretched hand.  

Taking it meant trusting him. Trusting the bond. Trusting the man who’d been her enemy for nineteen years.  

But letting go meant dying alone.  

Slowly, she placed her hand in his.  

Lucien’s grip was warm, steady.  

“Then let’s finish this,” she said.  

A smile—small, but real—touched his lips.  

“Together.”  

---

In the distance, a howl echoed through the trees.  

Not a warning this time.  

A challenge.  

Marcus had found them.  

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