Chapter 7: The Price of Silence

Aria’s POV

The cold wasn’t coming from outside. It wasn’t the thin mountain air or the dawn chill slipping through the tent walls. 

It was inside me—deep, trembling cold that sat right under my skin and wouldn’t leave. Every place Helena had touched me still ached like she’d pressed ice straight into my bones. 

The Luna. 

The woman who was supposed to guide the pack with grace. Her soft, elegant fingers had felt more like a warning than a gesture—an unspoken brand that kept whispering in my ear: I’m watching you.

There was no point trying to sleep. I lay there on the hard cot, staring at the seams in the tent fabric and listening to the last scraps of celebration drifting over the clearing. 

Lyra’s moment. Her new beginning. 

I was just… stuck here. I knew I should have fled right after the announcement—packed up my mother and Lyra and driven until the Vale’s scent was nothing but a memory. 

But if I’d left right after Lucian declared his mate… it would look like I was running from something. 

Or worse, with someone. And I couldn’t ruin Lyra’s first step into the life she’d always dreamed of.

Except every time I blinked, I saw him. Lucian. 

That unbearable moment when his eyes found mine in the crowd—the kind of gaze that stripped the soul bare. 

Helena’s tight, polite smile, every tooth a technicality hiding a threat. 

Two of the most dangerous people in this territory were looking straight at me. Me, the nobody omega mother. It would’ve been funny if it didn’t feel like a noose tightening around my throat.

Around three in the morning, the silence became louder than the noise. 

My brain kept replaying it all like a broken song I couldn’t turn off. 

The bar. 

The one-night mistake. His hands on my waist. His voice in my ear. The fire he’d lit inside me that I’d been too desperate, too wounded, too foolish to resist.

Hours later—my daughter’s hand in his.

This was my fault. I kept telling myself that. If I’d just gone home that night instead of drinking away rejection, everything would have stayed simple. 

Painful, but simple. Instead, I had dragged chaos straight into the Vale like a storm.

When the faintest gray light crept into the tent, I finally sat up. My body ached from tension I hadn’t realized I was holding. 

I stared at the tiny metal mirror and almost didn’t recognize myself—pale skin, dark circles, and right there on my neck… the faded remains of my rejection mark. Barely visible, but mocking me all the same.

A reminder of where I stood in the world: unwanted, unworthy, disposable.

I dressed quietly—plain clothes, nothing to catch attention—and slipped out before anyone could ask questions. I told myself I was getting coffee, but my feet were already carrying me toward the one place I didn’t want to go.

Helena had summoned me. You wouldn’t dare to ignore a Luna—not when your daughter’s future depended on it.

The climb up to the Main Lodge felt endless. The morning air smelled of wet leaves and pine sap, but underneath it, the Vale’s scent curled like smoke—cedar and something darker. The pack’s power. His power.

The Lodge loomed ahead, huge and shadowed, more fortress than building. Inside, the polished floors gleamed like mirrors, reflecting row after row of portraits of the Alphas who came before. Men with hard eyes and heavier legacies. Men like Lucian.

I kept my head down, walking fast, trying to look like someone who belonged here, even though every cell in my body wanted to run.

I was almost at the end of the hall when a door swung open.

Lucian stepped out.

Gone was the ceremonial armor and the regal presence he’d worn the night before. This version of him was somehow worse—undressed of formality, almost approachable. A fitted dark shirt hugged the broad planes of his torso as he scanned the papers in his hands.

He didn’t even see me.

My whole body stuttered to a stop. My heartbeat went from a steady thump to pure chaos. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Then, as if the air itself shifted, he sensed me.

His head lifted sharply.

Those silver eyes—eyes that had seen every inch of me only hours before—locked on mine. The papers slipped from his fingers and scattered to the floor. He didn’t even blink.

“Aria,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a greeting nor a question.

A claim.

My throat closed. “Alpha Lucian,” I managed, the words scraping out of me. “I was asked to report to Luna Helena.”

The air around him thickened. His scent hit me hard—cedar, heat, that unmistakable Alpha pull—and it took everything I had not to step back.

He took a slow step forward. Then another. Each one more controlled, more deliberate than the last.

“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t call me that. Not right now.”

“I have to,” I whispered. “You’re Lyra’s—”

The word mate burned too bitter to say.

He came to a full stop in front of me, towering above me. I had to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes, and even that felt like too much.

“I know what I am,” he murmured, voice lowering to something dangerously intimate. “And I know what you are. You don’t get to pretend last night didn’t happen.”

I froze as he lifted a hand. Not to touch my face—no. His thumb brushed the side of my neck, over my faded rejection mark, and something inside me cracked open.

“I felt the bond with her,” he whispered, voice tight. “It felt… safe. But not mine.”

Then he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear.

“You are the one who felt like destiny.”

My knees almost gave way.

He asked my name—my full name—with the kind of determination that left no room for lies. And I gave it to him, like a woman handing over her throat to a wolf. Aria Hale.

Something hardened in his gaze. Possession. Recognition. Something I couldn’t afford.

“Go to the Luna,” he said quietly. “Agree to whatever she wants. But come to me immediately afterward.”

A soft cough shattered the moment.

We both turned.

A maid pushing a cart of linens froze mid-step, her eyes widening behind her glasses. Her gaze flicked from him… to me… to the papers on the floor.

She said nothing. But she saw everything.

And that was the problem.

The second she rolled away, Lucian’s jaw tightened. “Go.”

I didn’t need telling twice.

I hurried down the hall until I reached Helena’s office door. I forced my breathing to steady. Knocked.

“Come in, Aria.” Her tone was smooth. Cold. Expectant.

She hadn’t waited for the knock. She’d known exactly where I was.

Inside, the office was all dark wood and sharper power. Helena barely glanced up before sliding a document across the desk toward me.

A petition for Damien to sign away his parental rights.

My stomach dropped.

“He’s causing trouble,” Helena said casually, as though discussing the weather. “You’ll take this to him. He’ll sign. You won’t tell Lucian or Lyra.”

Her eyes narrowed with quiet cruelty.

“Prove your loyalty, Aria. Or I will question where yours truly lies.”

I grabbed the document because there was no other choice. My hands shook.

When I finally stepped out of her office, the papers felt like deadweight. Damien—my ex-mate. My abuser. The man who had rejected our daughter as if she were trash.

This was more than a test. It was a trap.

Helena didn’t want Damien’s signature.

She wanted me gone.

Lucian on the other hand… wanted answers.

Two orders. Two Alphas. Only one of them I could afford to obey.

I rushed toward a side exit before Lucian could intercept me again. Once outside, the cold morning air slapped my face, grounding me.

I needed a car. I needed a plan. I needed to face Damien before Lyra even knew any of this was happening.

I tightened my grip on the waiver. My fear twisted into something sharper—anger, protectiveness, a fierce vow rising in my chest.

I would not let Damien ruin Lyra’s future.

Even if it meant betraying Lucian.

Even if it meant stepping back into the hell I’d crawled out of.

Even if it meant becoming Helena’s pawn for one deadly move.

I started running toward the parking lot, breath ragged, heart pounding.

The confrontation with Damien Blackwood—the man who broke me—was coming.

I vowed to myself this time, I wasn’t going to break.