Back In Town

Aria

Three years later

I can tell you the moment I decided letting things go wasn’t really my thing…

“Now that you’re done with school… you sure you wanna come back?” Uncle Jarek asked over the phone.

“Yeah. I am, Uncle.”

It was the moment I willingly, on purpose, came back to the town that had destroyed my family. After three years of promising my uncle I would stay away. Three whole years of pretending this place didn’t exist, that he didn’t exist.

And here I was, standing right in the middle of it again, trying to pretend like I had forgotten about it all.

Uncle Jarek had gotten me a temporary job at the Crimson Lounge. I remembered how it use to look and the people who went there. It was for the elites wolves, those with too much money and too many secrets.

Uncle Jarek pulled his truck to a stop outside the back entrance, drumming his fingers against the wheel like he was trying to keep himself from shaking me by the shoulders.

"Stay away from pack business," he said, again, like a broken record that only played warnings and disappointment. “You’re just here to work. Nothing else."

I forced the fakest smile onto my face and grabbed my bag. "I’m just here to work, Uncle."

We both knew it was a lie. But honestly? It was easier for both of us to pretend.

I didn’t wait for him to answer. I just slammed the truck door and walked inside.

Inside the tiny employee bathroom, I stared at myself in the cracked mirror. New haircut. New posture. New Aria.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

Truth was, no matter how much I tried to fix the outside, the inside was still full of cracks. I still had the same lips as Lira. The same stubborn chin. The same dark eyes that didn’t know when to back down.

I pulled on the stupid uniform — a tight black dress that screamed "tips, please" , smoothed down my hair, and pasted on a customer service smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

Then I walked out onto the lounge floor.

The first few hours were fine. Normal even.

Old wolves trying to drink their regrets away.

Young wannabe alphas showing off battle scars they probably got tripping over their own feet. You know, the usual.

I served drinks, wiped down the bar, kept my head low like a good little bartender. Just another nobody.

And then... the doors opened.

I turned toward the door right as he walked in.

Alpha Kol.

He moved with arrogance. After all he was the alpha and he didn’t need to say a single word for everyone in the room to remember it.

Heads dropped. Conversations died. The waitstaff practically dove out of his way like he was made of fire.

I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t bow my head like everyone else. I just kept polishing a glass like I wasn’t plotting how to ruin his entire existence.

Of course, he noticed. His eyes, as cold and sharp as they were, locked onto me. And instead of moving on like a normal person, he started walking straight toward me.

Kol stopped at the bar, right across from me, and for half a second, we just looked at each other.

"You’re new," he said, with a rough tone.

I set the glass down carefully. “And you’re blocking the light," I said, as politely rude as possible.

One of his guards shifted like he expected Kol to rip my throat out for daring to sass him. But Kol just... smiled. Barely. Not the nice kind of smile either.

It was the "I wonder what colour you bleed" kind.

"What’s your name?" he asked.

I wiped my hands on a towel. “You first," I said, sweet as sugar.

His brow lifted, amused. "Have we met before?"

I smiled back, all teeth. "I’d remember someone like you."

Another lie. The biggest one yet.

I remembered everything. And most of all, I remembered the smoke rising from my family’s funeral pyres.

Kol watched me like he was trying to figure out what puzzle piece I was.

“A drink.” He ordered with a clean smirk.

When I slid his drink across the bar — neat whiskey, no ice, the way Lira once said he liked it in her letters — our fingers brushed.

For one glorious, terrifying second, something shifted between us.

His nostrils flared. Wolves were built to smell emotions; fear, desire, rage. And what he caught off me wasn’t any of those.

It was pure, controlled fury. Wrapped up in a uniform and fake smiles.

He picked up his drink but didn’t sip it yet.

"Where did you grow up?" he asked, too casually.

"Not here," I replied. "Just came back."

“Hmm,” he hummed in a low tone, like he didn’t quite believe me but wasn’t ready to call me out on it.

The room was noisy. Glasses clinking, music playing, but it all felt distant. Like it was just him and me, standing in the middle of a battlefield only we could see.

Finally, he straightened. Dropped a crisp hundred-dollar bill onto the counter.

I watched him leave without touching the money.

When my shift ended, Uncle Jarek was already pacing by his truck like a man ready to spontaneously combust.

"I heard," he barked the second I got close. “Kol noticed you."

I shrugged, tugging on my jacket. "I served him a drink. Not a death threat, Uncle.”

Jarek ran a hand down his face, muttering something about idiots and death wishes. “This is exactly what I warned you about! Drawing attention to yourself!"

I thought about Kol’s eyes. The way he looked at me, not like prey. More like a puzzle he wanted to solve.

"He’s curious," I said quietly. "That’s all."

Jarek looked like he wanted to strangle me. “You have no idea what you’re playing with."

Maybe. Or maybe I knew exactly what I was doing.

Later that night, I was halfway through changing out of my uniform when I heard the engine of an expensive car outside.

Not Jarek’s rattling old truck. Something sleek.

I crept to the window and peeked out just in time to see a man in a black suit coming inside. My heart tried to hammer its way out of my ribs.

He finally came in.

“We are closed.” I said, trying to compose myself.

“For you.” The man said, handing me an envelope with expensive stationery.

I was confused, but I took it anyways. Then he left.

I waited a full five minutes until I was sure he was gone before I opened it up. Inside it was a handwritten note in perfect, sharp letters.

Dinner. Tomorrow. Alpha Kol’s Estate. 8 PM.

No explanations. No threats. Just an invitation.

My hands shook as I read it. Not from fear. From anticipation. I didn’t think I’d be dinning with the devil this soon.

“It’s a date, Alpha.”

And may the better liar win.