17. Awakening

A low growl rumbled from Mason’s chest the moment the rooftop door burst open with a loud bang, and Julian stepped through like he owned the damn night.

Julian had the nerve to clear his throat and say casually, “I thought the door was jammed… so I kicked it. My bad. But—uh—something’s come up. You really need to see it.”

Mason’s eyes flared. Rage simmered just beneath his skin. “Can’t you tell I’m occupied?” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut steel.

Julian raised both hands, trying not to smirk. “Right, right. But the urgent thing is already in your suite… and your date?” He nodded toward Mason’s arms. “She might’ve ditched you.”

Mason scowled, confused, tightening his hold instinctively—only to realize the weight in his arms had gone heavy and still.

He looked down.

Aria was there, yes. But she was gone… eyes closed, breath slow and even, her cheek pressed against his chest. She had slipped into sleep, her fingers still curled around the fabric of his shirt like she refused to let go even in her dreams.

“Fuck,” Mason muttered under his breath.

Gone was the fire of a moment ago. What remained was the ache.

He swept her up into his arms, carrying her with a tenderness that contradicted the storm in his heart.

"Let's deal with that urgent matter of yours," Mason said to Julian as he glared at him.

Julian followed silently behind, reading the shift in the air. Whatever urgent matter waited below… it could never match the gravity of what had just happened above, making him bite his lips to keep himself from smiling.

**********

When Aria’s eyes fluttered open, her head throbbed with the dull weight of a hangover, and for a moment, she had no idea where she was.

Her gaze darted around the room... The soft ivory linens, the marble side table, the faint scent of lavender soap, and freshly brewed coffee.

'Wait… this was my hotel room...' she finally thought.

She sat up too quickly, her heart pounding in confusion. 'How the hell did I get here?'

Just then, a soft clacking of keys pulled her attention to the other side of the room. Cecil sat at the table, hunched over her laptop, as she typed like her fingers were possessed.

“Cecil…?” Aria croaked, her voice dry and raspy.

Cecil glanced up, calm and unbothered. “Well, look who finally decided to rejoin the world of the living,” she said with a smirk.

Aria blinked at her, the fog in her head still heavy. “How did I get here? I was on the rooftop and—”

Cecil shrugged. “Beats me. You were passed out cold when I found you in bed. Maybe angels carried you in. Or maybe one particularly tall, brooding, powerful Alpha.” 

She paused, cocking a brow at her meaningfully. “Does the name Mason ring a bell?”

Aria flushed. Her heart skipped a beat as blurry fragments of last night surged into her mind—lips on hers, heat, hands, power. And that kiss... that touch…

“I—” she tried to speak, but Cecil waved a dismissive hand.

“Save it. You looked like you got hit by a train and had the best night of your life,” she said bluntly, then returned to her laptop. “While you were comatose, I got some shit done. Processed everything with the financial institutions, closed off your Crimson Claw ties, secured your old identity, and—oh!—rescued your bank accounts.”

Aria’s eyes widened. “You did all of that?”

Cecil finally looked at her, her expression softening. “You gave me power of attorney for a reason. And I used it. 

The moment I saw what Elliot’s pack was up to, I reached out to the few people who still know who the real Luna Aria is. And guess what? Some of them still believe in you.”

Aria’s throat tightened. She gripped the blanket closer to her chest, a mix of disbelief and gratitude flooding her chest.

“Now,” Cecil said, standing up. “Get your ass into the bath. I ran it twenty minutes ago. If you don’t go now, it’ll be colder than your ex-mate’s heart.”

Still stunned, Aria dragged herself to the bathroom. The moment she sank into the warm, fragrant water, she felt the tension from her muscles melt. Her mind was still trying to catch up with everything.

Then her phone rang.

She reached for it with a lazy hand, expecting more chaos, but paused when she saw the caller ID.

"Bank Manager - Ms. Anna"

“Uhm, Madam,” the manager’s voice came through, respectful and warm. “I just wanted to confirm, the full balance of your funds has been successfully transferred to your original account under your maiden name. Your access is unrestricted. We’ve also flagged your new account for attempted unauthorized freezes, but don’t worry, it’s secured.”

Aria’s lips trembled.

“Thank you,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Thank you so much…”

As the call ended, she let her hand drop into the bathwater. Her chest rose and fell as emotion clawed up her throat.

Everything Elliot tried to take from her—her title, her name, her power, her money—he was not able to take it all. And now, with each passing hour, she was more determined to get it all back.

Piece by piece, she was reclaiming her life.

But she also knew… something inside her had shifted.

And a certain Alpha might have something to do with it.

Aria's gaze drifted through the soft steam rising from the bathwater to the large French windows across the room. Just beyond the glass, the night sky erupted in a symphony of light and color.

A cascade of gold shimmered across the horizon.

Red flares lit the rooftops, followed by trails of blue and violet streaking the sky.

It was a fireworks display; grand, relentless, and dazzling.

She stood up, wrapped a towel tightly around her, and stepped closer to the window. Her bare feet padded softly across the marble floor until she reached the glass and pressed her palm to its cool surface.

From here, she could see everything.

The heart of the Crimson Moon Pack pulsed with life.

Streets below glowed under LED lights and scrolling digital banners.

Holographic projections of Elliot and Stella, smiling, radiant, and perfect, hovered high in the air, and the massive Crimson Enterprises tower blazed like a beacon, its lights dancing in sync with the sky above.

Then, the words flickered on the building: THE NIGHT BEFORE FOREVER.

Aria's chest constricted.

Another round of fireworks launched into the heavens. This time forming two glowing hearts that collided and merged into one before fading into stardust.

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until a sharp exhale escaped her lips.

There it was again. That tug inside her, deep in the soul—the thread of the bond, unraveling. 

A quiet snap echoed through her being like the last string of an old violin breaking.

She touched her chest.

It was Elliot.

The final stage of rejection.

But… it didn’t burn. It didn’t hollow her out the way she once feared it would.

Instead, it felt like a door closing behind her. A long, painful chapter she had unknowingly clung to now gently released her.

What lingered was not heartbreak—it was humiliation. Pride. The aching sting of betrayal. Not love.

She stared at the city celebrating a wedding that should have been hers. A celebration Elliot never gave her. No fireworks. No towers lighting up. No pack-wide displays of love.

Just a quiet, rushed Luna announcement that barely made it past a printed bulletin.

'Why didn’t I see it before?'

Her heart wasn’t mourning a love lost—it was mourning a fantasy, a lie she clung to because it was safe, familiar, and easy.

But now… she was awake.

And the illusion was gone.

Her hand slowly dropped from the window as she whispered to herself, “He never loved me. He only wanted the title. And I… I was foolish enough to believe that would be enough.”

Her thoughts flickered—unbidden—to last night.

The rooftop.

The fire in Mason’s eyes.

The way his voice shook with restrained fury when he saw her wounds. The way his hands trembled not from lust, but from rage and care and something deeper.

That kiss hadn’t been a mistake.

It had been a warning shot.

An awakening.

Where Elliot had been cold and cunning, Mason was heat and storm. And when she looked into Mason’s eyes, she didn’t feel like a pawn—she felt like a storm herself, a tempest barely restrained.

Another firework lit the sky, but this time, she didn’t flinch.

Instead, she turned away from the window, walked back to the bathroom, and dropped the towel.

"Congratulations! May your marriage be eternal, good for two pieces of rotting carcass," she uttered as she went back to the bathtub.