Aria woke with a jolt.
For a moment she forgot where she was—no creaky packhouse floors, no stiff mattress, no cold morning air that smelled faintly of rejection. Instead, she was wrapped in soft gray sheets, warm and clean, with sunlight filtering through tall windows framed by thick velvet curtains.
She blinked, disoriented. Then everything from the night before rushed back to her—the rejection ceremony, the whispers, the way her heart had shattered with Liam's words, and Damien sweeping in like a storm and taking her away before she crumbled completely.
Her chest tightened, but she forced a slow breath.
She wasn't home. She wasn't in the pack. She was in Damien Blackwood's mansion—no, his fortress.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Aria?" A woman's soft voice. "I brought breakfast."
Aria sat up quickly. "Come in."
A tall woman entered, dressed in a simple black uniform. She carried a tray of food… pancakes, fruit, fresh juice, and something that smelled far too good for someone who'd been publicly humiliated twelve hours earlier.
"I'm Liora," the woman said, giving a small smile. "Mr. Blackwood asked me to attend to you this morning."
Heat prickled Aria's cheeks. "Attend to me? That's… not necessary."
Liora laughed lightly. "Try telling him that."
Yeah, good luck. Damien didn't seem like the type who listened when he set his mind on something.
Aria cleared her throat. "Is he home?"
"He left early. Security matters."
Security matters. That felt oddly directed at her, but Aria didn't ask. She wasn't sure she wanted the answer.
"Eat," Liora said warmly. "You'll need your strength today."
Aria frowned. "Why?"
Liora hesitated. Her professional smile faltered. "There's been… news."
Aria's pulse jumped. "What kind of news?"
Liora shifted uncomfortably. "I think Mr. Blackwood would prefer to explain it himself."
Then why drop the hint? Panic crawled under Aria's skin.
Liora quickly added, "You are safe here, Aria. He made that very clear."
Safe. That word landed strangely.
Nobody had ever made her feel safe, not really. Not in the pack where she'd been tolerated, scrutinized, and ultimately thrown out like trash.
Damien said she was safe, and Liora believed him.
Aria wasn't sure if she believed him — but she wanted to.
After breakfast, she showered, put on the simple clothes Liora had laid out, and let herself explore the mansion. It wasn't just big. It was impossibly big — wide hallways, polished floors, glass railings, modern art she didn't understand, and windows overlooking a stretch of forest that seemed untouched by the pack.
Eventually she found a balcony overlooking the grounds.
Damien's house wasn't a home. It was a fortress hidden in plain sight. High walls. Security cameras. Guards who moved like shadows. Even the air felt protected.
Why did one man need this much security?
She leaned over the railing, noticing something strange. Three black SUVs approached the front gate, stopping abruptly as guards surrounded them.
Who the hell…?
As if on cue, a familiar energy brushed her senses.
Her stomach twisted.
No. No, no, no.
Liam.
Of course he'd come.
Her breath hitched. She shouldn't care. She didn't want to care. But her wolf — weak and sealed as she was — stirred painfully.
He had rejected her. Banished her. Humiliated her.
What did he want now?
The guards blocked him from entering the gate, and even from here, she could see Liam arguing with them, jaw clenched, eyes wild.
A sharp voice from behind made her flinch.
"You're up early."
Aria spun around.
Damien stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, black coat unbuttoned, hair slightly messy like he'd run his hands through it a dozen times already today. His eyes — those cold, quiet storm eyes — flicked to the SUVs below.
"Of course he came," he muttered.
Aria swallowed. "I didn't think he'd actually—"
"Oh, he would," Damien said simply. "Men like my brother don't like losing what they think they own."
Aria stiffened. "I never belonged to him."
Damien's gaze softened, just barely. "I know."
Her heart stuttered.
He stepped beside her on the balcony, close enough that she could feel his heat, smell the faint forest scent that clung to him — fir and something darker, sharper.
He didn't crowd her. He didn't touch her.
But somehow he felt too close.
"Why is he here?" Aria asked quietly.
Damien exhaled. "He's demanding to see you. He arrived an hour ago. I told them not to disturb you."
Aria gripped the railing. "So he's been waiting outside the gate?"
"Yes."
A mix of panic, anger, and something like satisfaction twisted in her chest.
"Does he think rejecting me publicly wasn't enough?" she whispered.
Damien's jaw tightened. "He wants answers now that you're not crawling back. Rejection is easy when the other person has nowhere to go. But when you walk away… the power shifts."
Power shifts.
She'd never had power in her life. Not like this.
Damien angled his head, studying her. "Do you want to see him?"
Her heart skipped. "No."
He nodded once. "Then you won't."
Her breath left her in a shaky rush.
No debate. No convincing. No guilt.
Damien simply took her word as fact.
A ripple of warmth — foreign and disorienting — swept through her.
Damien turned away from the railing and began walking down the hallway.
"Come with me," he said.
It wasn't a command. But it wasn't really a question either.
Aria followed, curiosity overcoming hesitation.
He led her down a flight of stairs, past more security, and into a room she hadn't noticed before. It wasn't decorated like the rest of the mansion. This room looked… functional. Large screens lined the walls, showing the grounds, the perimeter, the gates. A control room.
A guard turned. "Sir. He's getting restless."
"I'm aware," Damien said.
Aria stared at the screens. Liam stood near the gate, hands balled into fists, looking like a man on the verge of losing his mind.
"You need to see something," Damien said softly.
He tapped a screen, zooming in on something Aria hadn't noticed — an object placed near the gate, mostly hidden in the grass.
A dead rabbit.
Freshly killed.
Her stomach lurched. "Is that… some kind of message?"
Damien's voice turned ice-cold. "Pack politics can be petty. But leaving a kill near someone's property? That's not petty. That's a warning."
Her breath shook. "A warning to who?"
Damien looked at her, eyes dark. "You."
Aria's blood ran cold.
"Some people don't like that I stepped in last night," he said. "And they like even less that I took you."
He moved closer — not touching, but close enough that the room felt smaller.
"You're being targeted now, Aria. Whether you accept it or not."
Her chest tightened painfully. "Why would they target me? I'm nothing. A wolf with no shift. No power. No—"
"Don't say that." Damien's voice cut through her panic, low and fierce.
She froze.
"You are not nothing," he said, eyes locked with hers. "And people who matter know it."
His words vibrated through her like a truth she wasn't ready to face.
Aria looked away, heartbeat erratic. "Was that from my pack?"
Damien was silent for a long moment. "I'm still investigating."
Which meant yes.
Fear coiled in her stomach. Not of Liam — but of the others. The ones who had always watched her, judged her, whispered about her sealed wolf.
Aria's voice trembled. "Is this why you have so many guards? Why your house looks like a fortress?"
Damien's jaw ticked. "I learned a long time ago that my family name paints a target on everyone near me."
He didn't elaborate.
He didn't need to.
This wasn't normal pack security.
This was someone who had spent years protecting himself from threats most wolves didn't even know existed.
He was dangerous. And hunted.
And she was now tangled in that web.
Damien stepped closer, dropping his voice. "You don't need to be afraid."
Aria swallowed hard. "How can I not be?"
"Because," he said, eyes piercing, "I'm not letting anything happen to you."
The room felt too warm. Too intimate. Too charged.
Aria forced a shaky exhale. "Why do you care this much?"
Damien's gaze flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes in a heartbeat. "I have my reasons."
Her pulse stumbled.
He was too close. Too calm. Too intense.
Then suddenly —
A loud bang echoed from the gate speakers.
Aria jumped. Damien whipped his head toward the screens.
Liam was slamming his hand into the gate, shouting something the microphones couldn't quite catch.
But Aria could read lips.
"Aria! Come out!"
Her heart twisted painfully. Not with longing — but with anger.
Damien's voice dropped into a lethal tone she hadn't heard before.
"He's losing control."
Aria looked at the screens, at Liam pacing, fist in his hair, looking nothing like the confident future Alpha she'd known.
"Do you want me to make him leave?" Damien asked quietly.
Aria closed her eyes, breathing through the storm in her chest.
For once in her life, she didn't let guilt decide for her.
"I don't want to see him," she whispered. "Not today. Not tomorrow. Not for a long time."
Damien nodded slowly. "Then I'll handle it."
He turned to leave, but paused at the door.
"And Aria?"
She looked up.
"You're not going back there," he said. "Not as the girl they rejected. Not ever."
Then he walked out, leaving her heart pounding, her wolf stirring faintly — as if trying to wake.
As if recognizing something in him.
Something dangerous.
Something powerful.
Something meant for her.
And outside the gates, Liam's voice cracked the air again.
Aria didn't flinch this time.
She wasn't his anymore.
Not in this life. Not in any other.