Chapter 4: This Is Mine

Aria’s POV

Lycus’s grip bit into my wrist hard enough to bruise. His eyes burned with anger and maybe fear.

I’d never seen him look at me like that.

Was he panicking because I’d shown up?

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

I leaned close, my breath brushing the side of his neck. His shoulders tensed, a shiver running through him before he could stop it. “This is my unveiling, Alpha Vane,” I whispered. “After all these years, don’t you think the real Weaver deserves to appear?”

He froze, eyes darting down to mine. For a heartbeat, there was guilt—then it hardened into irritation. “It’s not your time yet,” he said coldly. “You’ll have your moment later. Go home, Aria.”

His brows drew tight. He wasn’t angry because I’d come; he was angry because I’d ruined his control.

Even now, part of me still wanted him to tell the truth. To stop pretending and admit, even once, that the work was mine.

But he said nothing.

The disappointment sat heavily in my chest. I straightened my back and met his gaze. “You really plan to reveal my name? Or hers?”

“Aria,” he growled, lowering his voice, “you’ve never been this unreasonable. Just leave. I’ll have a rider take you.”

He fumbled for his communicator, unease flickering in his eyes.

“I’m not leaving,” I said calmly.

His jaw tightened. “You don’t have a choice.”

He reached for me again, but I stepped aside—and caught Sandra’s glare from across the room.

I raised my wrist, the moonlight catching the silver lattice bracelet I’d made years ago. Its sigils shimmered faintly under the light, alive with my own energy. I smiled at her, pointedly.

Her lips curled. Then her temper snapped.

She walked toward me, fury burning through her body. “Aria,” she said loudly, so all could hear, “today’s the unveiling of the Devotion series. Why is that bracelet on your wrist? Did you steal it?”

So that was her plan, to drag me down publicly.

The crowd turned instantly.

“Did she say stole?”

“Someone that pretty…a thief?”

“The nerve…”

Dozens of eyes pressed against me like heat. I stood still, the whispering sharp and cruel.

Sandra’s voice rose again. “This woman’s name is Aria Thorn. Our family took her in by mistake years ago. We eventually kicked her off. She couldn’t afford the dust off that bracelet!”

The lie rang clear, polished and practiced.

My fingers trembled, but I lifted my chin.

Five years ago, I had lived in her shadow, locked in a cellar, scarred by her jealousy. Lycus had known every wound, every whip mark. He’d cared for me himself.

And now, when I looked at him for even a flicker of defense, he turned his face away.

Not a word. Not a sound. Coward. The ache twisted, then hardened.  

“Accusing someone based on who they were isn’t proof,” I said, my voice carrying. “How do you know I haven’t made something of myself since then?”

Sandra laughed. “You? Please. Let’s show them who you really are.”

She turned dramatically to the audience. “You’ve all heard of Sundar, the hidden Weaver behind the Devotion lattice. Well—” she pressed a hand to her chest “—I’m Sundar.”

Gasps rippled across the hall. Reporters surged forward, their crystals blinking as they recorded every word.

“What? The Luna is Sundar?”

“Alpha, is this true?”

“No wonder Vane Hall’s wards have been unmatched lately!”

I didn’t look at them. I looked only at Lycus.

“Tell them,” I said quietly. “Tell them who really made it.”

He couldn’t hold my gaze.

Sandra leaned into his side, her voice sweet and pleading. “Lycus…”

Just his name. That was all it took.

He exhaled, slow and heavy. “Yes,” he said. “Sandra is Sundar. She’s been the hand behind the Vane Hall’s wards.”

My vision blurred for a moment, then cleared.

Five years of my life handed over in one breath.

Fine. So be it.

The taste of iron filled my mouth as I bit down hard enough to draw blood.

Sandra smiled, radiantly. “You heard him! This bracelet, my design, was stolen. Guards!”

Two pack guards moved instantly. Before I could step back, they seized my arms and shoved me to the floor. Cold stone met my knees. The hall erupted into murmurs.

“Thief?”

“She dared to steal from the Luna?”

“Disgraceful.”

“Check her bag,” Sandra said. “And her dress, if you must. A liar deserves exposure.”

They reached for me again. The sharp rip of fabric echoed through the hall as one of them grabbed too roughly.

The room went still.

Because beneath the torn cloth, my back was covered in scars.

Old whip marks, pale and twisted, running from shoulder to spine.

Gasps rippled outward.

I stayed still. I didn’t cover myself. I let them see.

Let them see what her family had done.