Chapter 5: The Guard Who Remembered

Aria's POV

The cold woke me first.

Then the pain.

 I touched my cheek and hissed. It was swollen. Definitely swollen.

I sat up slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness.

Stone walls. Metal bars. A single torch burning somewhere down the corridor, casting orange shadows that danced and died.

The cells.

Right.

I was a prisoner of the most dangerous Alpha in the territory because I had driven four hours into hostile wolf land and announced myself at the gate like an idiot.

Brilliant plan, Aria.

I leaned my head back against the cold wall and closed my eyes.

Somewhere above me, the compound was quiet. Night had fallen completely. I could hear the distant sound of boots on stone. Guards changing positions.

The Moon Goddess had sent me here with magic in my blood and vengeance in my heart.

And I was sitting in a dungeon with a split lip.

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Footsteps.

Coming closer.

I tensed, pulling my knees to my chest. A guard appeared at the bars, holding a torch. He was older than the others. Graying at the temples. A scar on his neck, it was old and faded.

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he whispered.

"Princess Aria?"

My blood went cold.

I stared at him. "What did you call me?"

He glanced over his shoulder quickly, checking the corridor. Then he crouched low, bringing himself to eye level with me through the bars.

"Princess Aria." His voice was barely a breath. "Daughter of Alpha Richard Winters of the Crystal Touch Pack."

My heart was hammering. "Who are you?"

"My name is Owen." He hesitated. "I served your father. Fifteen years. I was one of his personal guard."

I studied his face in the torchlight.

The scar on his neck. I had seen that scar before. When I was small, sitting on my father's shoulders at pack gatherings. There had been a guard. Always close. Always quiet.

"Owen," I whispered slowly. "Owen Marsh?"

His eyes filled. "You remember."

"You used to bring me sweets from the kitchen." The memory surfaced like something from a dream. "When Dad wasn't looking."

He smiled, but it was a sad one. "Strawberry tarts. Every Sunday."

Something cracked open in my chest.

This man had known me when I was small and safe and my mother was still alive and my father still laughed.

Before everything broke.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "In Nightfall Pack?"

"I had a family to feed. Nightfall Pack paid well. I took the job." He looked down at his hands. "I have regretted it every single day since."

"Owen..."

"But you." His eyes snapped back up. "What made you come here, Princess? Of all the packs in all the territories..." He gestured at the cell, at the darkness, at the blood dried on my chin. "You came here? To him?"

I was quiet for a moment.

"I had a reason," I said carefully.

"A reason." He repeated it flatly. "You walked into Nightfall Pack alone. You spoke the Alpha's name to his face." He exhaled sharply. "Do you have any idea how close you came to dying today? There are wolves here who have been executed for less."

"I know."

"You don't." His voice dropped even lower. "I have seen what he does to trespassers, Princess. I have seen things in this pack that would give you nightmares for the rest of your life."

The torch flickered between us.

"I need to get you out," Owen said suddenly. He stood and began checking the lock on the cell door. "The guard rotation changes again in two hours. There is a gap in the eastern perimeter, maybe four minutes where no one is watching. If I create a distraction at the north gate..."

"Owen." My voice was firm. "Stop."

He froze. "What?"

"I am not leaving."

He stared at me like I had lost my mind. "Princess, this man slapped you three times in a courtyard in front of his entire pack and threw you in a cell. What do you think he will do in the morning?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Then let me tell you." Owen crouched back down, his voice was urgent. "There was a girl last month. A healer from the River Pack. She came here offering her services. He didn't want them." He stopped and swallowed. "They found her at the border three days later."

The silence was heavy.

"I'm not leaving," I repeated.

"Why not?"

Because if I leave, he dies. And if he dies, I die permanently.

But I couldn't say that.

"Because I came here to do something important," I said instead. "And I don't run from important things."

Owen looked at me for a long time.

Then something shifted in his expression.

Recognition.

"You sound like your father," he said quietly. "Before he got sick."

The words hit me somewhere deep.

"Tell me about him," I said suddenly. "About Dad. When he was strong."

Owen blinked, surprised by the change of direction.

Then he sat down on the cold ground outside my cell, his back was against the bars.

"Your father was the finest Alpha I ever served," he said. "Not because he was the strongest. Not because he was the most feared." He paused, thinking. "Because he was fair. Because his wolves trusted him. Because when he walked into a room, people felt safe."

I pressed my lips together hard.

"He would have been furious to see you here," Owen added.

"Probably."

"He would have come for you himself. Sick or not."

"I know."

Owen was quiet for a moment. "How is he? Truly?"

"The same," I said. "But I spoke to him before I left. He heard me. He understood."

Owen's shoulders dropped with relief. "Good. That is good."

We sat in silence for a while. The torch crackled. Somewhere deep in the cells, something dripped steadily.

"Owen." I looked at him through the bars. "I need you to do something for me."

"Name it."

"Don't help me escape. But stay close. Watch. If things go truly wrong, if I give you a signal, then we talk about leaving." I met his eyes. "Can you do that?"

He studied me.

This broken girl in a cell with a swollen face and a spine made of iron.

"You really are his daughter," he murmured.

"Can you do it?"

He stood slowly, brushing stone dust from his uniform. Checked the corridor again.

Then he reached through the bars and pressed something cold into my hand.

A small metal flask.

"Medicine," he said quietly. "For your face. The swelling will go down by morning. He won't see weakness."

I gripped it tight. "Thank you, Owen."

"Don't thank me." He stepped back. "Just survive."

His footsteps faded down the corridor.

I uncapped the flask and brought it to my swollen cheek. Cool liquid, herbal and sharp. The pain dulled almost immediately.

I exhaled slowly.

One ally. In a pack full of enemies.

It wasn't much. But it was something.

I thought about Kieran Steele. His black eyes. His absolute coldness. The way he had hit me without flinching, without hesitation, without any emotion at all.

He was dying.

He didn't know it yet, or maybe he did, and the coldness was his way of not caring.

Either way, I had to save him.

Whether he wanted it or not.

Whether he deserved it or not.

"You hit me three times today," I whispered into the darkness, as if he could hear me. "I'm keeping count."

I lay back down on the stone floor, the flask pressed to my cheek.

Tomorrow, everything would start properly.

Tomorrow, I would face the Blood Alpha again.

And this time, I would be ready.