CHAPTER TWENTY TWO — “WHERE POWER BLEEDS”

The land beyond the border smelled wrong.

Aria noticed it the moment they crossed into the abandoned territory. The air carried fear that had not yet settled into decay. Whatever had happened here was recent, violent, and unfinished. Power had been torn away so suddenly that the ground itself still remembered.

Luca slowed beside her. His instincts were on edge, wolf pacing beneath his skin.

“This place was ruled,” he said quietly. “Strong leadership. Organized packs.”

“And now,” Aria replied, “it is empty.”

They moved deeper, boots crunching over broken stone and shattered glass. Buildings stood intact but hollow, doors left open as though people had fled mid breath. No bodies. No blood. Just absence.

That disturbed Aria more than destruction ever could.

She reached inward, letting her awareness stretch. The pull came immediately, sharp and insistent, tugging at her chest.

Something here wanted her attention.

They found survivors near the old council hall. A small group huddled together, wolves and humans alike, eyes wide with exhaustion. When they saw Aria, a murmur rippled through them.

“She is real,” someone whispered.

Aria knelt slowly so she would not tower over them. “What happened here.”

An older wolf stepped forward, his fur matted, his posture broken by defeat. “They took him.”

“Who,” Luca asked.

“Our Alpha.”

Aria felt the word echo inside her. Taken, not killed.

“By who,” she pressed.

The wolf swallowed. “A woman.”

Silence followed.

Aria exchanged a look with Luca. Her pulse quickened.

“What kind of woman,” Aria asked carefully.

“Not wolf. Not human,” he said. “She walked through our defenses like they were air. She spoke one word, and our Alpha fell to his knees.”

Aria felt cold creep up her spine.

“What word.”

The wolf met her gaze. “Balance.”

The ground seemed to tilt beneath Aria’s feet.

Luca’s jaw tightened. “Watcher.”

“Not fully,” Aria said softly. “Something else.”

The survivors watched her with desperate hope.

“You can bring him back,” one of them said. It was not a question.

Aria closed her eyes briefly. This was the cost. This was the test.

“I will try,” she said.

The path led them into the ruins beneath the council hall. Stone stairs spiraled downward into a chamber carved long before the city existed. Symbols glowed faintly along the walls, responding to Aria’s presence like a living thing.

At the center of the chamber stood the Alpha.

Bound, suspended in the air by nothing visible, his body alive but unmoving. His eyes snapped open when Aria entered.

Relief flooded his face. “You.”

The voice came from the shadows before Aria could respond.

“You came sooner than expected.”

She stepped forward as the woman emerged. Tall. Pale. Eyes like fractured glass.

Not her mother.

But familiar in the way a scar is familiar.

“You are not Watcher,” Aria said.

The woman smiled. “No. I am what remains when Watchers fail.”

Luca growled low. “Release him.”

“Or what,” the woman asked calmly. “You will kill me.”

Aria lifted a hand slightly. Luca stilled.

“What do you want,” Aria asked.

The woman studied her. “To see if you are worthy.”

The bindings tightened around the Alpha. He gasped.

Aria felt it immediately. Pain surged through her own chest, mirrored, shared.

Her power reacted violently.

The walls shook.

“Stop,” Aria said, voice steady but strained.

“Make me,” the woman replied.

Aria stepped forward.

The air changed.

Not explosive. Not destructive.

Focused.

She reached for the power without letting it consume her. She anchored herself to Luca’s presence, to the survivors above, to the city that believed she could hold the line.

And she spoke.

“Enough.”

The word did not echo.

It settled.

The bindings shattered. The Alpha collapsed, breathing hard but alive.

The woman staggered back, surprise flashing across her face for the first time.

Aria stood trembling but upright.

“You did not break me,” Aria said quietly. “You revealed yourself.”

The woman laughed softly. “Interesting.”

She faded then, not defeated, but withdrawing.

“This is not over,” her voice lingered. “You are walking a narrow path. And you are bleeding already.”

The chamber fell silent.

Luca caught Aria as her knees buckled.

She pressed her forehead against his chest, breathing through the aftermath.

“I felt it,” she whispered. “Every life tied to mine. Every consequence.”

He held her tightly. “You did not fall.”

“But I felt myself crack,” she said.

“That means you are still human,” Luca replied. “And still choosing.”

They returned the Alpha to his people. Gratitude poured over them like rain, heavy and sincere.

But Aria felt no triumph.

Only the weight of what came next.

That night, as she rested beside Luca, the bond between them pulsed softly. Stronger. Deeper. Tested.

“You are changing the rules,” Luca said quietly.

“So are they,” Aria replied.

She stared into the darkness, knowing something fundamental had shifted.

The world no longer waited to see if she would rise.

It waited to see how long she could stand.

And somewhere, watching closely, forces far older than cities were learning her name.