6. Merciless Day

Aria bolted from the bedroom, the adrenaline of bad news still roaring in her veins, so frantic she forgot all about the torn state of her dress. Just as she reached for the suite door, it swung open, and standing there was a man she recognized instantly, because of his injured arm still bound in a cast.

For a heartbeat, they both froze, locked in a moment of stunned silence, the tension crackling like a live wire between them.

Then, a commanding voice cut through the heavy air.

"You’re right on time, Julian. I assume that paper bag you’re holding has the dress I asked for?" Mason's deep voice rolled through the room with effortless authority.

Aria and Julian both jerked their attention toward him. Aria instinctively clutched at the torn fabric of her dress, desperate to maintain a shred of dignity.

"Ah... yes," Julian stammered, blinking rapidly as he tore his gaze away from her. "I wasn’t sure which one to pick, so I just took the saleslady’s recommendation."

Mason’s smirk was almost sinful. "No worries. I’m sure whatever it is will look stunning on Aria. Please, give it to her. She seems like she’s in quite a hurry, not even saying goodbye before leaving."

'He knows my name?!' Aria’s heart skipped a beat. It was the only thing she heard, not even noticing his sarcasm. 'Of course he does,' she thought bitterly. 'I’m practically infamous now — the ex-Luna branded a fraud.'

Julian, his movements strangely hesitant, handed her the bag. Their fingers brushed in a fleeting, electric touch that made Julian pause, his brows knitting together in the faintest frown as Aria turned away.

"You can use the bedroom to change. You left your shoes in there, too," Mason said casually, his gaze sharp and knowing. "Might want to grab them while you’re at it."

Confused, Aria glanced down—and felt her cheeks burn. She was wearing the hotel’s complimentary slippers.

Mumbling a rushed thanks, she shot an awkward smile at the two men and fled back into the bedroom, her heart pounding, her mind spinning out of control.

Aria slipped into the new dress and checked her phone, seeing a message from her assistant, Cecil, just as she finished smoothing the snug fabric down her curves. With a quick breath, she pushed open the bedroom door—and froze.

Mason was there, casually leaning against the wall beside the door, his arms folded, exuding effortless dominance. The moment she stepped out, his gaze locked onto her like a predator spotting its prey. His sharp, molten eyes raked over her, tracing every line of her body without a single word.

Aria felt heat rise to her cheeks under his searing gaze.

It didn’t take her long to realize why he had gone so still—the dress Julian had bought her was a black bodycon, deceptively modest with its long sleeves and below-the-knee hemline, but dangerously tight, hugging every curve like a lover’s embrace. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Self-conscious, Aria tugged at the hem, as if she could somehow hide the delicious scandal the dress made of her figure.

Mason straightened, his voice low and smooth. "I’ll drive you to wherever you're going."

Aria blinked, startled by the unexpected offer from the Federation’s most powerful Alpha. She quickly shook her head. "Thank you, but my assistant just texted—she’s already on her way. And... thank you for the dress. I'll send the payment to your office."

Mason arched a brow, his smirk downright sinful. "Don't insult me. It's a gift. Accept it."

'Of course,' Aria thought, her heart fluttering. 'Money like that is pocket change to someone like him.'

"Alright," she murmured. "Thank you. I should go. My assistant should be arriving any minute."

Mason moved smoothly, opening the door for her with a flourish. But just as she stepped into the hall, she heard his footsteps behind her. She turned, surprised.

"I—I don’t want to assume anything, Mr. Larkin... but are you following me?" she asked, tilting her head with a brave, teasing smile.

Mason slipped a hand into his pocket, smirking in a way that made her toes curl. "Yes," he said, unapologetic. "Got a problem with that?"

Aria’s words caught in her throat. She knew who he was—he wasn't a man to be challenged lightly.

Mason chuckled, the sound deep and rich, sending a thrill down her spine. "Relax. I’m just seeing you off. Making sure you get where you need to go safely."

Aria pursed her lips, trying to hide her flustered expression, and nodded. "As you wish, Mr. Larkin."

Because honestly… what harm could it do, if the most dangerous, intoxicating man she’d ever met simply wanted to walk her to the car?

An electric silence hung between them as the elevator glided downward. Neither spoke, but the charged glances they occasionally exchanged said more than words ever could. When the doors slid open to the hotel lobby, Mason moved with sudden purpose.

Before Aria could react, he caught her gently by the arm and steered her away, straight into one of the luxury boutiques lining the marble corridor.

Confused and wary, Aria let herself be led, swallowing her questions. The last thing she needed was another scene; the morning's disaster was already more than enough.

She watched in stunned silence as Mason scanned a rack with a quick, fierce eyes, plucking a beige blazer without so much as checking the size. He marched straight to the cashier, tossing his sleek black card onto the counter.

"No need to wrap it," he said coolly, his voice sending a shiver down Aria’s spine.

While he handled the purchase, Aria pretended to browse, her fingers brushing clothes she didn’t even see. Moments later, Mason returned, holding the blazer out toward her.

"Put this on," he ordered smoothly, a devilish glint in his eye. "You'll draw even more attention dressed like that without something to cover it up."

Heat flushed Aria’s cheeks. She understood immediately. That dress—tight, scandalous—was like a spotlight on her body. She accepted the jacket, slipping it on, surprised by the perfect fit.

"Wow... it is exactly my size, amazing," she said without thinking.

Mason’s lips curved into a wicked smile. "Of course. I had plenty of time to size you up when we were in bed earlier," he said casually, tossing the words over his shoulder as he strolled out of the boutique.

Flustered, Aria chased after him, her heart hammering in her chest.

Just then, Cecil's car pulled up at the entrance. Aria turned quickly to Mason. "That’s my assistant. Thank you... for everything," she stammered before rushing out, needing distance from the dangerous pull he had on her.

As soon as she reached Cecil, the look on her assistant’s face made her heart plummet.

"We have a bigger problem," Cecil said grimly.

Aria exhaled shakily. "Cecil, don’t draw it out—just say it."

"Ravenhold Bastille Prison," Cecil said, her voice low, "is in Brawley County. It's outside Ironhide’s jurisdiction. And it’s a maximum-security facility."

Aria staggered a step back, pressing a trembling hand to her mouth. It felt like the universe had decided to throw everything at her in a single, merciless day. It was as if someone had placed a curse on her that extended to her dear family.