15 — The Past That Hunts

Aria’s POV

The air in the packhouse was different after that night - heavy, strained, whispering with things unsaid. All the hallways I walked down I could feel eyes on me. Wolves flicked their heads around when I passed them, but quickly enough not to hide the suspicion in their eye.

They knew.

Or at least, they thought they had.

After word was out that the renegade I had wept was my brother, the whispers started -- at first quiet, like the sound of wind through dead leaves, then harsher, crueller. She hid a rogue's blood. Maybe she led them here. She's not one of us.

I thought I had become immune to judgement. After all, the Redmoon Pack had prepared me for humiliation well enough. But this... this was different. These wolves were Damon's soldiers, his family. His opinions were significant because he was significant.

And he hasn't visited me since that night.

I never saw the flame in his eyes, never heard his voice, not even a word. Only silence, colder than rejection

I told myself that was better that way. I didn't want to explain. I didn't want him to look at me the way that Zac did -- like I was something broken and tainted and unworthy. But every time I closed my eyes I saw Damon's face when I told him the truth, the storm behind his eyes raging against disbelief and hurt.

He was justified about asking me questions. I had kept something from him -- from everybody.

Still, it was more painful than it needed to be.

I sat by the window of my room that morning and looked at the forest. The mist hung on the trees in curling and fading ghosts. My fingers touched the edge of my sleeve, touching the scar of what my brother had done to save me. The night I thought he'd died. It was a night of the changed everything.

There was a soft knocking in the silence.

"Luna," the voice from the other side. It was Mara, one of Damon's guards (the only ones that still spoke to me without contempt). "Alpha's asking for you. He's in the war room."

My pulse quickened. "Now?"

"Yes, Luna. He said it's urgent."

I smoothed my dress, although my hands trembled, and followed her through the corridors. Every step echoed with dread. I wasn't ready to see him. Not like this.

When we entered the war room, Mara bowed and departed to leave me at the door. Damon was facing away from me, gazing down at the map that lay on the table. He didn't turn when I entered.

"Close the door," he said.

His voice was calm -- too calm.

I obeyed. It was as if the sound of it shutting behind me was like a trap shutting.

For a moment, the only thing that could be heard was silence. Then Damon said something, still not looking at me.

"You should have told me, Aria."

I swallowed hard. "I was no longer bothered by it."

"Didn't matter?" He finally turned, and the coldness in his eyes hurt my chest. You denied me something like that -- from this pack. You knew a rogue was connected with you, and said nothing.

"I didn't know he was alive!" I protested, the words came out fast, desperate. But I thought that he was dead, Damon. I swear it."

He was studying me, his jaw tight, braced hands on the table. "And yet, he rushed right for you, He called you by name."

My voice faltered. "Since he wasn't -- he wasn't attacking me." He was trying to talk. You didn't give him the chance."

His eyes flashed gold for a heartbeat. "Aria: He had claws on your throat, Orlando. Your defence is I don't apologise for protecting you."

I winced at the harshness of his voice. "I know. But he was not just a wild man to me.

"That's exactly the problem," he said, quieter now but still edged in steel. "You expect me to believe you when you denied your bloodline." When truth is for the safety of the pack.

“Do you think I’d ever betray you?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

Damon looked away. "I don't know what to think at this moment."

The words pierced like a blade through my chest.

I wanted to hate him for doubting me but I couldn't. Not when I saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the burden of an Alpha struggling between love and duty.

I stepped closer. "He was banished because of me."

Damon's eyes snapped back to mine. "What?"

"My brother," I choked out, making it past the lump in my throat. He was not exiled for treason like they said. "He was banished because he saved my life."

I saw the look of confusion in Damon's face, then he slowly gave way to realisation.

"It was years ago," I continued, and my voice was trembling. "When rogues raided our border, I ran to protect one of the pups." I fell into a ravine. He came after me. He fought them off, killed one of the higher-ranked wolves who tried to run. They called him a traitor -- he'd turned against himself. But he was just . . . trying to protect me.

Tears clouded my vision, hot and incessant. "I never saw him after that." “Before I had a chance to speak, they dragged him away. My parents told me to forget that he was dead. I tried to believe them, as remembering hurt too much."

There was silence between us. The kind that burned.

When Damon actually did speak, his voice was low. "You've had that all by yourself all along."

I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "It was easier that way."

He said nothing. Looked at me for a long, silent moment before shoving away from the table.

"Damon," I said quietly, and he turned to the door. "Say something... please."

He came to a stop, but didn't look back. "I need time to think."

And then he was gone.

The sound of the door closing behind him reverberated in my bones.

I stood there for a long time, the walls closing in on me. For all the battles I had fought so far, nothing hurt as much as losing his trust.

When I finally made it back to my room, it was now dark night. The packhouse was quiet except for the far-off howl of wolves on patrol. I sat on the end of my bed, staring at my floor, feeling smaller than I had in years.

I heard a soft metallic noise, and it caught my attention. Something had fallen outside my door, just outside.

Cautiously, I opened it.

There on the floor was a small pendant, tarnished silver in the form of a crescent moon. My breath caught in my throat, and I knelt to pick it up. I knew it instantly. The pendant my brother used to wear -- the one that had hung around his neck since his boyhood.

But it was clean. Polished. As if someone had wiped the blood off.

I looked down the hallway, but there was nobody there. Only shadows. Only silence.

One tear trickled down my cheek. Damon hadn't said a word as he left me earlier... but this? This was his answer.

He didn't believe me -- not fully.

But neither had he condemned me.

Somewhere in that silence, doubt and faith, there was the sliver of hope.

I held the pendant against my chest, whispering into the dark, "I'll prove it to you, Damon." "I'm not my brother's sin, I'll prove it out."

Outside, the wind howled -- the scent of rain, and something else.

Something watching.

Something waiting.

The past wasn't over with me yet.