The Alpha's Icebound Secret

Aria's POV 

The bell shrieked, slicing through my attempt to explain algebraic functions for the fifth time that period. I watched Maria, bless her heart, still look utterly bewildered. "We can go over it at lunch, Maria," I offered, gathering my books. She nodded, her dark eyes still unfocused. Tutoring had become my life, a penance for the sins of my past popularity.

"Aria!"

My stomach plummeted. That voice. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Damien. My ex-boyfriend. The reason I’d spent the last six months trying to claw my way back from the social abyss I’d happily dived into.

“Just ignore him,” Chloe whispered, her hand briefly touching my arm as she walked past with Maya. They were my new friends, the ones who tolerated me, who still watched me with a flicker of suspicion in their eyes, reminding me daily that the old Aria was never truly forgotten.

I tightened my grip on my binder and sped up, hoping to outrun him, knowing it was futile. Damien was the high school’s hockey captain, a human bulldozer with an ego the size of the scoreboard.

“Aria, wait up!” His voice, closer now, vibrated with a confidence I once found charming, now just irritating.

I paused by my locker, feigning intense interest in its contents. “What do you want, Damien?” I asked, not looking at him.

He leaned against the locker next to mine, his scent of sweat and cologne filling the small space. “You know what I want. We need to talk, Aria.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” I snapped, finally meeting his gaze. His blue eyes, once hypnotic, now just seemed… demanding.

“Oh, I think we do,” he countered, a smirk playing on his lips. “Things aren’t the same, are they? You’re not the same. And it’s because you’re not with me.”

I actually laughed. A short, bitter sound. “You really think that, don’t you? You think my entire personality revolved around you?”

“Didn’t it?” he challenged, stepping closer. “Remember how much fun we had? The parties? You were the queen, Aria. You were myqueen.”

“I was a self-absorbed idiot,” I corrected him, my voice colder than I intended. “And I’ve spent the last six months trying to fix that. I volunteer at the shelter, I tutor, I actually study. I’m not going back to that, Damien.”

His eyes narrowed. “You think you’re better than me now?”

“I’m better than I was then,” I stated simply. “And that has nothing to do with you.”

The warning bell for next period shrilled, saving me. “I have class,” I said, yanking open my locker and grabbing my history textbook.

“This isn’t over, Aria,” he called after me as I hurried away. “You’ll come around.”

I heard Chloe and Maya catching up to me in the hallway. “He’s relentless,” Chloe muttered, shaking her head.

“Just like we told you,” Maya added, her tone dry. “Damien doesn’t understand ‘no’.”

“I know,” I sighed, feeling a familiar dread coil in my stomach. “I’ll handle it.”

“Be careful, Aria,” Chloe warned, her voice softer. “He can be… vindictive. When he doesn’t get his way.”

The rest of the day was a blur of lectures and more awkward encounters with Damien, who seemed to pop up in every hallway, every corner. His attempts to corner me, his knowing smirks, the way he’d whisper my name just loud enough for me to hear—it was all designed to wear me down. But I wouldn’t break. I couldn’t. Not after everything.

By the time the final bell rang, I felt like a deflated balloon. My shoulders ached, my temples throbbed. I just wanted to be home, away from the constant pressure, away from Damien’s suffocating presence.

I walked home, my backpack heavy, the autumn air crisp against my face. The leaves crunched under my sneakers, a small comfort in the overwhelming noise of my day. When I finally stepped through my front door, the silence of the empty house was a balm. My parents were both still at work, a blessing in disguise.

I kicked off my shoes, dropped my backpack in the entryway, and headed straight for the shower. The hot water felt like a physical cleanse, washing away the tension, the lingering residue of Damien’s persistent gaze. I scrubbed my hair, letting the steam fill the small bathroom, trying to empty my mind of everything.

Afterward, wrapped in a fluffy towel, I padded to my bedroom, feeling a sliver of peace. I pulled on an old t-shirt and sweats, then collapsed onto my bed, my body grateful for the soft mattress. I picked up my phone, my thumb already hovering over the social media apps. It had become a mindless habit, scrolling through posts, trying to find a distraction from my own thoughts.

A notification popped up, not from I*******m, but from an unknown number. My heart gave a little jolt. Usually, I ignored unknown numbers, but today, exhaustion had dulled my usual caution.

I tapped on it.

*Miss being the old Aria?*

A cold dread seeped into my bones. What was this? Some cruel troll? Some jealous ex-friend of Damien’s? I hesitated, my thumb pausing over the keypad, then I just deleted the message. I would not engage. I would not let anyone drag me back into that world of manipulation and drama.

Almost immediately, my phone buzzed again. Same anonymous number.

*I have something that can erase all the progress you've made.*

My breath hitched. My hands started to tremble. This wasn't some random troll. This was specific, targeted. It knew about my past, about my efforts.

Then, a third message. A video file.

My curiosity, intertwined with a growing terror, overruled all common sense. My finger, against my own will, tapped the play button.

The screen flickered to life. Blurry at first, then sharpening into focus. It was a party. A wild night, months ago, back when I was still firmly in Damien’s orbit. I watched, my blood running cold, as a younger, more reckless me, laughed, swaying to the loud music. And then the camera focused on my face, zoomed in. There was a glass in my hand. A small, white pill. And then… I was crushing it into a drink. Someone else’s drink.

Three seconds. That’s all I watched. Three searing, horrifying seconds that burned themselves into my memory. My fingers spasmed, and the phone clattered to the floor, landing with a dull thud on the carpet.

No. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. That night… I barely remembered it. Damien had encouraged me, said it was just a prank, that it wouldn’t hurt anyone. But it was clear in the video. The malicious gleam in my eyes. The casual, careless way I’d done it. The face of the person whose drink it was, though still blurry, was recognizable enough.

This would destroy everything. All the volunteering, all the tutoring, all the apologies, all the hard work to rebuild my reputation. It would expose me as the truly awful person I had been, the person I was desperately trying not to be anymore.

My eyes were glued to the phone lying face down on the carpet. A new message alert popped up, making the screen glow.

Don’t ignore me.