Chapter 5

Aria's Point of View

I smooth the fabric down my sides for what must be the tenth time, trying to ignore the way my fingers tremble just slightly. The dress is stunning, a deep crimson silk that clings to my body like it was poured over me, hugging every curve perfectly, strapless and just dramatic enough to earn a raised brow from my mother if she sees it too soon. She probably expected me to wear something softer, something that blends in.

But I’m tired of blending in.

I take a slow turn in front of the full length mirror, the hem of my dress brushing just above my knees. My hair tumbles down in loose waves, still damp at the ends from the shower. The silver pendant at my throat, a gift from Leo years ago, catches the light, the only thing I’ve worn from the old days.

Eighteen.

The number echoes in my head like it’s supposed to mean something more than just age. I’m not suddenly stronger. Not suddenly more like Leo, the golden twin, the Lycan prince. I’m still just… me. Smaller. Quieter. Too much wolf, not enough power.

And now I’m back in this house. Back in the place where walls whisper expectations and every hallway smells like control.

My heels click softly against the polished floor as I move around the room, gathering lip gloss, perfume, and whatever scraps of courage I can find. Everything in this space feels pristine, designed. Too perfect. My room back at the pack house had a soul, cluttered with late night chaos and secrets I was never supposed to tell.

This one is a dollhouse.

And I’m the doll.

The sound of laughter floats up from outside the door, mom’s soft, melodic voice and the unmistakable rumble of dad’s. The king and queen entertaining their guests, celebrating the coming of age of their children like it’s a royal occasion.

Which I guess, for them, it is.

I lean in closer to the mirror, pressing the gloss to my lips. A shimmer of rose pink finishes the look, but it doesn’t hide the truth in my eyes.

I don’t feel like royalty. I feel like a pawn.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, firm and steady.

I freeze for half a second, my heart skipping before I turn and glance towards the door.

It’s probably my mother, coming to make sure that I’m “appropriately dressed.” Or maybe Leo, finally back from school, here to sweep in with that effortless confidence and charm that makes everyone love him instantly.

I take one last look at myself in the mirror.

The dress is bold. My eyes are brighter than I remember.

"Come in," I call, my voice steadier than I feel.

The door opens with a soft creak, and there he is, Leo, he is dressed in dark jeans, a black button up shirt and jacket slung over one shoulder. His hair’s a mess, like he ran a hand through it on the way over, and the second he sees me, his signature smirk appears.

"Wow," he says, stepping into the room. "You clean up alright, sis."

I roll my eyes, grinning as I cross the room and pull him into a hug. "Happy birthday, troublemaker."

He squeezes me back. He’s warm and solid, the familiar comfort I didn’t realize I needed. "Happy birthday, storm cloud."

I laugh, pulling back just enough to swat his arm. "That’s a new one."

He raises a brow. "What? You’ve been thundering around this house for days now. You think Dad doesn’t have more gray hairs because of you?"

"That’s not fair," I mutter, but I’m smiling anyway.

Leo grins wider, then reaches into his pocket. "I got you something," he says, and for a second, his voice softens. He pulls out a small black box and holds it out like it’s a peace offering.

Curious, I take it from him and lift the lid.

Inside is a delicate silver charm bracelet, glinting faintly in the soft light of my room. Tiny charms dangle from the chain, a little crescent moon, a wolf paw, a tiny compass, and a heart shaped locket no bigger than my fingertip.

I blink hard, caught off guard. "Leo..."

"I picked them myself," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Figured you could use a reminder that even when you feel lost, you’re still part of something. Still... you know. Seen."

Something stirs in my chest, tight and aching in the best way. I clasp the bracelet around my wrist carefully, admiring the way it rests against my skin.

"It’s perfect," I whisper.

Leo offers me his arm, the teasing grin already back in place. "Well, come on, little sister. Let’s go remind them which twin actually has the charm."

I laugh, threading my arm through his. Together, we head for the door.

Whatever tonight brings, awkward speeches, forced smiles, watchful eyes, it’s easier with him by my side.

Let them see us.

The king's heirs, wolf and Lycan, walking into the fire like we were born for it.

***

The house is finally quiet.

All the laughter, the toasts, the congratulations they’ve faded into memory and lingering traces of expensive perfume. The party’s over, thank the moon. I barely survived it with my sanity intact, and honestly? I owe that entirely to Leo.

He never left my side, even when the Elders started their thinly veiled interrogations about my “future” and when the unmated sons of every noble pack tried lining up like I was some prize to win. He cracked jokes, nudged me when I zoned out, and stole extra cupcakes for us from the buffet table. Without him, I think I might’ve bolted in the middle of my own birthday.

But now… now it’s just me.

And the silence is loud. Oppressive.

I sit on the edge of my bed, still in my dress, though I kicked off the heels hours ago. The walls feel like they’re closing in again, softly at first, like whispers behind the wallpaper, then louder. Heavier. This place is beautiful, yes. But it’s also a cage dressed in velvet and gold.

I stand, moving quietly across the room. I’ve done this before, too many times not to know exactly where the creaky floorboards are and which doors groan if you pull them too fast.

I open the wardrobe slowly and pull out my black cloak, the soft fabric instantly familiar in my hands.

I swing it over my shoulders, clasping it shut and pulling the hood over my hair. Instantly, I feel less like the daughter of a king and more like myself. Whoever she is.

I move to the door, pressing my ear to it first. Nothing. No footsteps. No whispers from down the hall.

Good.

I ease it open just enough to slip through, heart pounding harder than it should. My parents sleep down the hall, and I know if either of them catches me, there’ll be another lecture. Another decision made for my safety.

But I need air. I need space. I need to remember what it feels like to move without eyes tracking my every step.

I walk silently through the corridor, past the family portraits and long forgotten tapestries that do nothing but remind me of who I’m supposed to be. The floor’s cold beneath my bare feet, grounding me, reminding me this is real.

At the back door, I pause only once to listen. Still nothing.

Then I slip out into the night.

The door clicks shut behind me, and I exhale like I’ve been holding my breath for hours.

Stars blink above me, sharp and cold and free. The trees wait in the distance like old friends, and I start towards them without hesitation, my cloak swirling around my legs with each step.

I don’t know exactly where I’m going. But I know I can’t stay caged another minute.

Not tonight.