20. Storm the Heavens

Mason slid into the back seat of the car, his voice colder than steel.

“There’s no need to interfere,” he said flatly. “She’ll figure it out on her own. We’re not getting involved.”

Julian glanced at him with brows slightly raised. “Sure, boss. You call the shots.”

With that, he pulled away from the curb and turned the car around, leaving the hotel and Aria behind in the growing distance.

Outside, Aria instinctively turned her head, eyes narrowing as she stared down the road Mason’s car had just disappeared on. A strange sensation twisted in her chest, like an invisible string had tugged at her heart. Felt like someone was just watching her

She blinked, scanning the street, but saw nothing. Only cars, strangers, and flashing wedding broadcasts. Still, the air felt… different.

Back inside the car, Julian noticed Mason checking the side mirror, not for traffic, but for someone. His eyes were fixed, unblinking, on the image of Aria shrinking in the distance.

Julian couldn’t help but smirk.

“If you’re not planning to accompany her to Ravenhold,” he said casually, “then why the hell did you wait around at the hotel all day?”

He paused, waiting for his reaction.

“Unless, of course, you were waiting for her,” Julian added.

Mason didn’t respond immediately. His gaze lingered in the mirror for one last second before he shifted his weight back into the seat, slow and deliberate. Then, without a word, he reached into the leather case beside him and pulled out a crystal glass.

From a hidden compartment, he drew out a bottle of Martell XO and poured himself a drink with a steady hand, the amber liquid gleaming in the sunlight.

He raised the glass, letting it catch the light, then said quietly, without even glancing at Julian.

“Drive properly. If even a drop of this spills… I’ll make sure you bleed for it.”

Julian stifled a laugh, shaking his head as he refocused on the road.

“Understood, boss,” he murmured, lips curling into a crooked grin. “Your wine, your rules.”

But neither of them spoke after that.

Mason leaned back into his seat, eyes half-lidded, but his mind wasn’t on the wine.

It was on her.

The image of Aria, head held high, heart breaking in silence, tearing up that photo, was burned into his memory.

And no matter how far they drove, he couldn’t shake the feeling…

That he should’ve stayed.

A few more minutes passed before Cecil returned, only to find Aria standing still beside the car, staring blankly at her phone. Her fingers weren't moving, no scrolling—just frozen. 

But Cecil knew her too well. Aria was pretending to be occupied, trying to drown out the voices around her while secretly absorbing every word.

She heard it all.

Every whispered admiration for Stella.

Every envious sigh over the lavish ceremony.

Every casual erasure of her existence.

Cecil exhaled slowly, her heart tightening for her friend. “Hey,” she said gently, “I’m back. Let’s go. We’ve got a long road ahead.”

Aria didn’t speak, just nodded, her face unreadable, and silently slid into the passenger seat.

The journey to Ravenhold Bastille Prison was long, the silence inside the car thick and suffocating. They arrived well past noon, the air around the facility cold despite the sun. 

Clutching the containers of food they'd packed, they made their way across the barren, gray entrance.

“My god,” Cecil muttered, glancing around. “No wonder they buried this place so far. It’s like they want the inmates to be forgotten.”

Aria didn’t respond. Her eyes were locked on the looming structure, dread curling deep in her gut.

Once inside, she approached the front desk with a polite but steady voice. “We’re here to see Alexander and Emily Harper.”

The detention officer, a man with an unshaven face and sunken eyes, barely looked up. Instead, his gaze swept over both women slowly, from head to toe, heavy with judgment, as if trying to decide whether they belonged in the facility themselves.

He finally tapped a few keys on the keyboard. Then, without even glancing up again, he said flatly, “They’re not allowed visitors.”

Aria’s heart dropped. “Please, I… I’m their daughter,” she said softly, pleadingly. “Just for a few minutes. We brought food—”

The officer’s hand slammed down hard on the wooden table, the sound echoing like a gunshot across the concrete lobby. Aria flinched violently, and Cecil gasped beside her.

“I said they are not allowed visitors!” he bellowed. His eyes were cold, void of sympathy. “Or are you deaf? You want to join them for breaking visitation protocol?”

Cecil instinctively grabbed Aria’s arm, her voice shaky. “Let’s go, let’s go—”

Aria’s legs barely moved, and she tried one more time. "Can't we just leave the food and–"

The detention stood up and picked up his baton and murmuring curses with the intention of beating the two.

Cecil grabbed Aria's wrist and dragged her out of there, running for their lives. 

Aria's hands trembled, still gripping the bag of food she’d prepared with care. Her mother’s favorite dish. Her father’s preferred stew. It didn’t matter.

They didn’t even get to see them.

By the time they stumbled out into the parking lot, both were breathless and stunned.

But Aria—Aria’s face was pale, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

“They’re trying to bury them,” she whispered hoarsely. “Just like they tried to erase me.”

“Aria, maybe it’s time,” Cecil said softly, eyeing her warily. “We should call the Chairman, like Alpha Hugo and your aunt suggested. He might be the only one who can move things now.”

But Aria wasn’t listening.

Her fingers trembled as she tapped a contact on her phone, eyes fixed on Cecil with a defiant glint. She brought the phone to her ear, her heart thudding, praying for a lifeline.

“Hi, Attorney Cameron, it’s me, Aria Harper. I just—”

The voice on the other end cut in coldly, with no room for emotion.

[Sorry, dear. If this is about your parents, my hands are tied. I can’t help you. You’ll have to ask someone else.]

Click.

Dead tone.

He hung up.

Aria stood frozen, the phone still pressed to her ear. Her breath hitched, then came the crash. She ripped the phone from her face, eyes closing tightly as a wave of rage and helplessness surged through her.

“Fuck this!” she exploded, voice breaking, raw. She stomped hard on the ground, then kicked at the gravel, sending dirt scattering like the pieces of her dignity.

Cecil stood a few feet away, arms folded, letting her friend vent. Her heart clenched, but she knew better than to interrupt. Aria needed to burn this out before the next storm came.

Finally, Aria stilled, her chest heaving, her eyes glassy but refusing to fall apart. She turned and marched toward the car. Cecil followed in silence.

Once they were both inside, Aria sat stiffly, gripping the food boxes in her hands.

Cecil waited, then gently broke the silence. “Where to now?”

Aria didn’t look at her. She fastened her seatbelt with a click and muttered, her voice bitter with resignation, “To the city. I need caffeine… or alcohol. Something to get through the humiliation of begging the Federation’s Chairman. God, this is the last fucking thing I ever wanted to do.”

Cecil smirked and started the engine. “Let’s go then. You’re about to storm the heavens, and I’ll be right beside you.”