The wild Confirmation

The car was quiet, except for the hum of the tires and the soft, steady click of the turn signal as we rolled through town. Streetlights passed in long, slow stretches of gold. Aiden's hands gripped the wheel too tightly, like letting go might make the world fall apart.

I didn't speak.

Not at first.

Sometimes words feel useless. Sometimes silence feels kinder. More honest.

Because what could I even say?

I knew who killed Ash.

I hadn't seen it with my eyes, but I knew. In my bones. In that place in me that had changed when I drank blood for the first time and never looked at the world the same again.

It was Sebastian.

It had to be.

The way he'd asked about it earlier, calm, collected, but underneath it... Something else. Something primal.

Maybe it was to protect me. Maybe it wasn't.

But Ash was dead.

And Aiden was in the middle of it.

My throat tightened.

I turned my face to the window so he wouldn't see the anger stretching across it.

I turned my face toward the window so he wouldn't see the way my jaw clenched, the way my eyes darkened. Anger twisted in me, sharp and hot, but I didn't let it show. Not now. Not with Aiden beside me.

I was scared to get angry. Genuinely scared. Not for myself.

For him.

I still didn't fully know what I was capable of.

Ever since I fed, the thirst had dulled, but not vanished. The edge was always there, just beneath my skin.

Hunger, yes, but something else too. A low, thrumming power that didn't care about right or wrong-only need. It whispered in the background like a second pulse.

But I was getting better at ignoring it.

At least, I hoped I was.

I could smell Aiden now, every heartbeat, the warm, living scent of him, but I could sit beside him without shaking. I could look at him and not see a target.

That had to mean something.

Still, I didn't move. I didn't reach for his hand again. He needed space. And I wasn't sure I trusted mine.

Aiden took a slow breath beside me, like it physically hurt to keep holding things in.

"Do you think they'll arrest me?" he asked, voice brittle. "If the autopsy says he was murdered... I mean, where else are they gonna look?"

His words sent a chill down my spine.

Because I knew exactly where they'd look.

And it would ruin him.

"No," I said, firm. "They won't."

"You don't know that," he muttered.

"I do." I glanced at him, my voice low, sure. "Because I won't let them."

He looked over, startled by how certain I sounded.

But I meant it. With every breath. With every quiet ounce of fury I was holding back.

I didn't know what Sebastian had done, not exactly. But if he'd made this mess, I'd find a way to get him to clean it up before Aiden got caught in the crossfire.

It wasn't right.

He deserved better.

He didn't deserve me.

But I wasn't going anywhere.

Not now.

We didn't say much as we walked inside.

The house was still, the kind of quiet that held its breath. I already knew my parents would be out, knew we'd have the house to ourselves.

Just the two of us.

We didn't speak as I guided him down the hallway.

The floor creaked beneath our feet, and the dim hallway light threw long shadows across the walls, but Aiden followed without a word. He looked like someone walking through a dream that had turned sideways. Or a nightmare he hadn't woken up from.

My room wasn't much. A twin bed pushed against the wall, books stacked on the windowsill, a chipped desk where I did homework I didn't care about. There was no effort to impress him. Just space. Privacy. A place where the world couldn't reach for a while.

He stood in the middle of the room, fingers still wrapped around the mug I'd handed him, barely warm now.

"Sit," I said again, softer this time. "Please."

He did. Perched on the edge of the bed like he was scared to take up too much space, like his guilt might bleed onto the sheets.

I closed the door behind us. Not to shut him in, but to shut the world out.

I sat next to him, close enough for our knees to brush. I could feel the way his breath caught in his chest. The way it shuddered, shallow and uneven, like every inhale was a fight.

"You're safe here," I said quietly, even if I didn't know how true it could be. "With me."

He finally looked at me-really looked. His eyes were red-rimmed but open, searching. Like he wanted to believe it. Like maybe, just maybe, he could.

"I don't know how to carry this," he said.

"You don't have to."

His voice was a whisper. "I saw blood, Noah. On him. That night. I keep replaying it. But I didn't want to believe it. I told myself maybe it was something else. Maybe I imagined it."

My eyes shone

"Who?"

His gaze dropped, his voice even lower now-like saying it too loud might make it more real.

"Sebastian."

The name hung between us, thick and sharp and final.

My chest tightened. Not from shock-but from the confirmation. The weight of truth is finally spoken aloud.

"I saw him," Aiden continued, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress like he needed the pressure to stay steady. "After the party. Everyone was gone. I'd just gone to check on the backyard. He was there. Standing in the dark."

I didn't breathe. Just sat still and listened. Watched the way the tremor in his voice warred against the steel in his spine. He was unraveling, but trying so hard not to. Like he thought he'd fall apart in front of me and I'd look at him differently.

I wouldn't.

But even as every word confirmed what I'd feared-what I'd already felt deep in my chest-I knew I couldn't let him believe it. Not fully. Not now.

He didn't know what we were. What Sebastian was. What I was.

And if I let him keep pulling at that thread, it would all come apart too fast. Too violently. It would break him.

"You could be wrong," I said gently, leaning closer to him. My voice was soft, careful, like I could will his fear into silence. "Maybe it wasn't blood. Maybe it was wine. Paint. You were tired. You said it yourself-you didn't want to believe it."

His brows furrowed, eyes sharp. "I didn't imagine it, Noah."