Chapter 5: Let Me Go

Aria's POV

Lycus froze where he stood. His face drained of color. He’d seen those scars before. He was the one who’d tended them with trembling hands, whispering that I’d never be hurt again.

Yet here I was on my knees, humiliated, because he’d stayed silent.

Across the room, a man’s glass shattered in his hand. Blood ran down his wrist, red against the white marble. I felt his power before I saw him. Raw, cold, and dangerous.

His golden eyes burned across the hall, locking on Sandra, then sliding to me. His aura hit the air like frost.

“Let me go! This is against the pack law!”

I twisted hard, but the two guards held me fast, one on each arm, their fingers digging into my skin.

My gaze snapped to Lycus. “Look at me,” I said, teeth clenched. “Can you really stand there and say Sandra is Sundar?”

The hall went quiet.

My eyes were burning, but I refused to look away. On my back, the torn strap of my dress slipped lower, the cool air brushing old scars.

He took an involuntary step toward me, then Sandra clutched his arm. Then, in a small, trembling voice. “Lycus… my chest hurts.”

His shoulders stiffened. The healers’ warning rang in his ears: her wolf was failing; stress could weaken her faster.

I saw him swallow his guilt. 

Then he spoke, coldly. “She’s my Weaver. I’d know. Sandra is Vane Hall’s Sundar.”

She lit up with triumph.

One tear slid down my face before I could stop it. I’d already decided to leave. I’d told myself I was finished with him. And still, some small, pathetic part of me had hoped he would choose the truth.

What a fool I was.

Lycus saw my tears, and something twisted in his expression. In five years, I had never cried in front of him. Not when I woke from nightmares, nor when the price of the ritual chewed at my bones.

He took another step forward.

Sandra’s voice cut through the air. “Why are you all just standing there?” she snapped at the guards. “Strip her. Or do I have to do everything myself? Right, Lycus?”

She added his name like a soft plea, playing the fragile Luna.

Lycus’s throat worked. He looked at me and forced his tone steady. “If you didn’t steal anything, you have nothing to hide.”

A harsh, frayed laugh tore out of me. Even the guards flinched.

“Enough,” Lycus muttered, jaw tight. “Take her backstage and search her thoroughly.”

He couldn’t even look at me now.

Sandra opened her mouth to gloat, but the cold flash in his eyes made her stop. She pressed closer to him instead, playing the injured one.

The guards moved to drag me away. I wrenched my arms free.

“No need,” I said. “If your Alpha thinks I need to be searched, why hide it backstage? That would look… suspicious.”

I straightened. My torn gown hung crooked on my shoulders. “Strip me, right? Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

Before anyone could react, I reached for the torn strap, yanked it down, and pulled the entire moon-white gown over my head. I flung it aside.

Gasps exploded around the hall.

Underneath, I wore black underwear. A simple top and briefs that left most of my skin bare. Pale flesh. Hard lines of muscle. And scars. So many scars.

White lash marks carved down my back and thighs, some raised, some twisted, crisscrossing like a twisted landscape.

“What in the—”

“By the Moon…”

“Who did that to her?”