Chapter 18 – THE ARGUMENT

The next morning I heard it by accident. Two servants were speaking near the laundry room when I passed.

“The Alpha asked about her again this morning.”

“He wanted to know if she ate.”

“He has been asking more often.”

I stopped walking. My heart gave a strange, uncomfortable beat.

Deucalion had asked about me.

The same man who could barely look at me for weeks. The same man who told me the marriage was only duty.

The same man who moved me into the guest room the moment Aria arrived.

Why was he asking about me now? I walked away before the servants noticed me.

All day the question stayed in my head. I tried to ignore it. I tried to tell myself it meant nothing.

But the more I thought about it, the more restless I became.

By late afternoon I could no longer sit still.

I needed answers.

I needed to know where he stood. If he was going to keep treating me like an unwanted duty while somehow tracking my every move, I wanted him to say it to my face.

That evening I changed into a simple dark dress and left the guest room.

I was walking toward the main wing when a familiar voice stopped me.

“Malia.”

I turned. The Blackridge Luna stood in the corridor, her expression unreadable.

“Luna.”

She looked me up and down. “Where are you going?”

“To speak with Deucalion.”

She studied my face for a long moment. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes dropped briefly to my stomach, then returned to my face. “Do you feel anything… concerning the child?”

I frowned. "What child?”

She waited. I shook my head. “No. I don’t feel anything.”

Disappointment crossed her face so clearly that I almost stepped back.

Then something colder settled in her eyes.

Disgust.

She looked at me as if I had failed some quiet test I never knew I was taking.

“I see,” she said. Without another word she turned and walked away. I stood there for a few seconds, confused and uneasy.

What child was she talking about?

I pushed the thought aside. I had more important things to deal with tonight.

I continued down the corridor until I reached Deucalion’s door.

I raised my hand to knock. Then I heard a sound from inside.

A soft, breathless moan. My hand froze.

Another sound followed. A low, rough groan that I knew too well.

My stomach dropped. I should have walked away.

I should have turned around and gone back to my room.

Instead, something bitter and reckless pushed me forward. I placed my palm against the door and slowly pushed it open.

Just a little.

Just enough to see.

The sight hit me like a physical blow.

Aria was on the bed.

Her silver dress was pushed up around her waist. Her legs were raised high, one of them resting over Deucalion’s shoulder. He was between her thighs, thrusting deep and steady, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks.

She moaned his name with every stroke.

“Deucalion… harder…”

He leaned down and kissed her.

Not the cold, duty-filled kisses he had given me.

This was different.

Hungry.

Familiar.

His hips moved with practiced ease, driving into her again and again while she clung to him and gasped.

I could not move.

I could not breathe.

This was the same sister everyone had called too young.

The same sister they claimed was too fragile to carry Blackridge blood.

The same sister who had publicly accused me of stealing her place.

And here she was, receiving Deucalion's dick freely while I stood in the shadows with an incomplete mark burning on my neck.

My vision blurred.

I stepped back carefully, making sure the door made no sound as I closed it.

Then I turned and walked away as fast as I could without running.

My legs felt weak.

My chest felt tight.

By the time I reached the guest room, tears were already sliding down my face. I locked the door behind me and leaned against it.

The image refused to leave my mind. Aria’s legs raised. His body moving into hers.

The way he kissed her. The soft way he said nothing cruel to her.

I pressed both hands over my mouth to stop the sound that wanted to escape.

All the cold nights.

All the times he told me I was not her.

All the times he treated me like a burden.

And still he could go to her bed without hesitation. I wiped my face roughly with the back of my hand.

Enough.

I walked to the small wardrobe and pulled out the few clothes I still owned. I threw them onto the bed without folding them.

Then I opened the drawer and took the little money I had managed to keep.

My hands were shaking, but my mind was clear for the first time in weeks.

I was leaving tonight. I did not care what the Luna had ordered.

I did not care about the incomplete mark.

I did not care about pack reputation or bloodlines or any of their rules.

I would not stay in a house where I was forced to watch the man who claimed me in public give everything soft and real to my sister in private.

I packed quickly. One bag. Only what I could carry.

When I finished, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the closed door.

My mark burned hotter than it ever had.

I pressed my palm against it and closed my eyes.

“I’m done,” I whispered to the empty room.

“I’m leaving.”

And for the first time since I arrived at Blackridge, the silence felt like freedom.