19. Burn Baby Burn

The morning sun barely peeked through the curtains when Aria and Cecil were jolted awake by the buzz of new email; more documents, freshly delivered by Cecil’s ever-reliable parents.

Cecil rubbed her eyes and looked over the files with a sigh. “Stay here, Aria. I’ll go downstairs and get these printed. It’s way easier to go through physical copies than scrolling through PDFs.”

Before Aria could even nod, Cecil was out the door, her footsteps fading down the hall with quiet urgency.

Aria decided to order room service for breakfast, partly for convenience, but mostly to shield her from the stares and whispers that might follow her in the hotel restaurant. She didn’t need judgmental eyes on her, not today, on Elliot and Stella's wedding day.

Not when the entire city was celebrating the very man who shattered her.

A few minutes later, a knock came at the door.

Aria opened it to find a sharply dressed attendant, balancing two trays brimming with food.

“That was fast,” she murmured as she stepped aside.

“Yes, Madam,” the attendant said with a bright smile. “The kitchen is moving quickly this morning, no one wants to miss the live broadcast of Alpha Elliot’s wedding to our new Luna.”

Aria froze.

Her stomach twisted painfully, but she managed a tight nod. “I see.”

The attendant, oblivious, placed the trays on the table and left without a second glance.

Aria stood there for a moment, still as stone. Then she walked slowly back to the bed and sat down. The smell of food filled the room, but her appetite had vanished.

She didn’t want to eat alone. She didn’t want to be alone, period.

On impulse, she picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

And there it was.

The wedding.

A grand, sweeping broadcast with multiple camera angles capturing every moment as if it were some fairytale. The altar of the Moon Goddess stood gleaming beneath a canopy of glowing lights and silver blossoms. 

The streets were flooded with cheering citizens, waving flags and tossing petals into the air.

And then came Stella.

She descended a marble staircase with elegance and smug pride, draped in a gown that shimmered like the night sky under moonlight. 

She was wearing an off-shoulder masterpiece of silk and diamonds, hugging her curves with a siren’s precision. The slit ran dangerously high, and the long silver veil flowed behind her like mist from a dream. 

She looked like a queen—no, a goddess in her own right and she knew it.

Elliot stood at the altar, perfectly composed in his ceremonial robe, his eyes drinking Stella in like a man who had already claimed his prize.

They held hands before the Moon Goddess, their oaths echoing through the speakers with such clarity and finality that Aria felt her chest tighten.

The crowd erupted in joy. Applause. Cheers. Fireworks. The city celebrated the rise of its new Luna.

And Aria?

She sat frozen, her jaw clenched, her heart a storm.

This was the wedding she never had. She was married to Elliot in papers, in haste, in shame. No cheers. No gown. No vows before the goddess. Just whispers and lies.

Just as Cecil returned with the printed files in hand, Aria quickly turned off the TV.

Cecil stepped in, pausing when she noticed the rigid tension on Aria’s face. “Did something happen?” she asked, setting the documents down on the table.

Aria forced a faint smile and shook her head. “Nothing. It's just that the smell of the food is making my stomach growl. Let’s eat!”

They ate in silence, the rustle of paper and clink of utensils the only sounds between them. 

The documents that Cecil’s parents had worked tirelessly to compile now lay sprawled across the bed and table, but no matter how hard they searched, no truth surfaced—no crack in the case that could free her parents.

Aria exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had just grown heavier. Her voice was low, dulled by exhaustion and disappointment. “What time are we meeting the lawyers in Ravenhold again?”

“Lunchtime,” Cecil replied, glancing at her watch. “But it’s a long drive, and we need to leave soon. We can buy meals for your parents, but they can’t bring food inside their cells. And since your parents are held in separate blocks, we’ll have to visit them one by one.”

Aria nodded, her jaw tightening. “I understand.”

No further words were spoken as they packed up the documents. Determination had replaced disappointment in Aria’s eyes—there was no time to wallow. Her parents needed her.

They headed down to the hotel lobby. As Cecil went to check them out, she gestured for Aria to wait by the car. 

Aria stepped outside into the crisp air, only to be greeted by a massive screen plastered across the front of a nearby skyscraper.

There it was again... The wedding.

The reception had begun, grander than anything Aria had ever imagined. 

Crystal chandeliers sparkled under a massive tent, white roses rained from the ceiling like snowflakes, and Elliot and Stella danced in the center, wrapped in a golden glow as if the world had crowned them king and queen.

Passersby had stopped to admire the live broadcast. Aria stood among them, unseen, unnoticed, just another face in the crowd.

Two young women nearby gushed with excitement.

“Wow, the Luna of Crimson Claw is so beautiful and noble,” one said, eyes wide with envy.

“I heard Alpha Elliot paid for everything, including her Vera Wang wedding dress,” the other chimed in.

Aria’s stomach turned. She quickly looked away and pulled out her phone, desperate for distraction. 

But social media was no escape either. Hashtag after hashtag, image after image. Stella’s gown, Elliot’s vows, the extravagant cake, the elite guest list. 

It was all there, feeding the fairytale that had been built on the bones of her own silence and sacrifice.

She let out a bitter laugh under her breath.

Those women had no idea. No one did.

No one knew that the so-called ex-Luna of Crimson Claw was the woman standing right beside them. Was once the very same person who spent four years pouring her youth, her energy, and her love into a man who never truly saw her.

They didn’t know how she had believed Elliot when he once whispered, “I don’t like extravagant things… I just want it to be simple. What matters is that we know we love each other.”

Lies. All of it.

She believed him. 

She swallowed those words and gave up so much. No fanfare. No celebration. No white gown. She was frugal, so he could invest more in the pack. 

She ignored luxuries, refused gifts, and worked tirelessly to support his rise.

She had once been the pampered daughter of the Ironhide Pack, respected, adored. 

Her hands had never known labor. But marriage to Elliot had worn her down, body and soul. Her palms were no longer soft, her back always aching, and she had long since stopped buying even the smallest indulgence for herself.

She pulled out a small, faded Polaroid from her purse.

The only photo she had with Elliot.

It had been taken hastily. Cecil had snapped it one afternoon when Aria had begged Elliot to accompany her to a bridal boutique, hoping to feel, for once, like a real bride.

The image was blurry and mottled. Elliot’s face was blank, as always, cold and detached.

But Aria…

She had been glowing. Smiling so brightly, so full of hope. That girl in the picture had been in love—blindly, recklessly.

A lump formed in her throat as tears stung her eyes.

“Silly girl,” she whispered.

She tore the photo down the middle, then again and again, until it was nothing but shreds.

Then she pulled out a lighter.

With trembling fingers, she set it ablaze.

She watched the pieces curl and blacken until they turned to ash, scattering into the wind. Gone. Like everything else.

Across the street, standing discreetly near a black SUV, Mason Larkin watched the entire scene unfold with unreadable eyes. 

His arms were crossed, his stance still, but something flickered beneath that cool surface—something fierce and restrained.

Julian stood beside him, having seen it all as well. He turned to Mason. “Boss, her assistant said she’s headed to Brawley County. Should we offer her a ride?”

Mason didn’t answer right away.

His gaze was still on Aria, on the pain she tried so hard to mask, and the fire in her that refused to die.