Aria’s POV
I thought of Margaret, my mother, trusting the wrong people. Loving the wrong man. Walking willingly into the jaws of evil wolves.
“My mother has a heart,” I said softly. “I don’t.”
For a mont, Clarence hesitated. Then, stupidly, she smirked.
“While she cried over a body she thought was mine,” Clarence whispered, leaning in, “Patrick was beside , laughing.” She chuckled.
The sound echoed bright and cruel, like silver bells dipped in poison.
My wolf snarled, gold flooded my vision. The recording pen in my hand clicked off.
“So you admit it,” I murmured. “Faked death, fraud, conspiracy and helped.”
Clarence stepped forward, trying to reclaim her edge. “You won’t stop , Aria, you can’t. Also, stay away from Nathan. My daughter will have him.”
It was her audacity for . The delusion.
I tugged the file from her grip. She held tight onto it, her teeth bared.
“Let it go!” I arched my brow.
My wolf bristled the mont Clarence’s mask slipped. Gone was the gentle facade she wore like a wedding veil. What stared back at now was fangs behind lipstick, poison behind pearls.
“Leave it alone.” Her voice dropped, sharp enough to frost the air.
I snatched the file and put it in my bag. I frowned, folding my arms across my chest. My wolf pressed forward, eyes burning molten gold under my skin.
“You think I went through all the trouble of having these photos taken just to give you a little scare?” I asked, voice smooth as silk wrapped around claws.
Her aura spiked, brittle with panic.
“Of course,” I added with a smirk. “You can take this set... if you want.”
“But I have plenty of backups.”
My eyelashes fluttered lazily in amusent.
My words clearly scratched at Clarence’s last shred of composure.
“You’re not like your foolish mother,” she hissed. “You’ve got a deep mind.”
My chuckle echoed against the tiled walls, low and humorless.
“I have no ties to her anymore.”
“But neither of us,” I continued, stepping closer, “would ever fake our own death to send an illegitimate child to a lover as a foster daughter.”
The words hit like a silver bullet.
Clarence staggered, the color draining from her face.
Footsteps thundered behind us.
I caught his scent before he arrived...Patrick.
He rushed in, catching Clarence dramatically as she fell into his arms like she’d rehearsed it for a decade.
“What’s going on? How did you...” he sputtered. His gaze ricocheted between us, confusion curdling into suspicion.
I watched the switch flip behind Clarence’s eyes.
A spark of cunning, then tears...perfect, practiced, heartbreaking drops.
“Patrick,” she whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in a storm. “We wronged Margaret in the past, and seeing Aria today... I just wanted to apologize.”
Her sobs grew louder, breathier.
“But Aria has every right to hate us.”
I stared.
They were really going to perform this play.
Here? In the restroom? With their little child clinging to Patrick’s pant leg like a prop.
My wolf huffed a growl. I didn’t stop her.
Patrick stroked Clarence’s back, his face contorted into righteous fury.
“Clarence, Margaret wasn’t blaless,” he said gently to her, but his glare snapped toward like a whip.
“If it hadn’t been for her, we would’ve been together long ago. You’ve followed all these years without recognition because of her. You’re too kind; they are the ones who wronged us.”
They.
Heat surged under my skin. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as my control bent and frayed.
“Aria,” he barked, his voice dripping with fatherly authority he never earned.
“You’re clearly up to no good. Apologize to your Aunt Clarence!”
I found it almost funny how blatant they’d beco since stealing Margaret’s shares.
They didn’t even bother pretending anymore.
“Apologize?” I scoffed, my wolf prowled beneath the surface, lips curling. I pointed at Clarence.
“Why don’t you tell him what you just saw?”
Their scents tangled in the air. Clarence’s was sour with fear, Patrick’s was reeking of frustration and guilt. My heightened senses absorbed everything. I could even hear Jasper’s heartbeat skip.
I smiled at them. I knew my calm aggravated him and that was the point. I refused to bow like the submissive pup they once trained to be.
Patrick’s anger wavered, sothing like unease bleeding into it.
“What’s she talking about?” he asked Clarence, voice tight.
Clarence trembled, fake tears rolling as she clung to him. “She had soone tail and took photos and videos of us!”
Ah. The performance begins.
Patrick stiffened. “What are you trying to do, Aria?” His voice dropped low, like a growl, but it only made my wolf stretch lazily, unimpressed.
His fear spiked, subtle but there.
I slung the bag over my shoulder, ready to leave, when claws of panic lashed out.
Patrick’s hand. He yanked the bag, tearing it open. Papers scattered like snowflakes, photos fluttering across the marble floor. The zipper snapped.
A rumble vibrated in my chest. My wolf bristled. Touch again, and you lose that hand.
Patrick stomped over the images, cracking them underfoot. “Are you insane, Aria?”
Sophia froze nearby, wide-eyed. I could sll her confusion and her fear.
“If you want them, take them.” I stepped over the ss with a wolf’s careless grace.
I was above this.
Sophia grabbed my wrist. “You can’t just leave. Delete everything first! You must have backups!”
A low hum of irritation slid through . My wolf’s ears flattened.
Then a familiar scent hit .
“What’s going on here? Trying to snatch my girl?” a lazy drawl chid in.
It was Rowland.
Sophia shrieked as a strong hand wrapped around her wrist, forcing her to release . Red marks blood on her skin. Rowland pulled behind him like an instinct, a protective shield. His wolf flared, golden energy sparking around him.
“I followed them here,” he said, grinning, “but I’m not a creep. I swear.”
I shot him a glare, but there was no bite to it. “Stop joking, Rowland.”
His grin widened, boyish and reckless. So different from Nathan. So painfully different.
Patrick snarled, trying to regain ground. “Don’t think Alpha Rowland’s presence makes you untouchable. Delete those photos!”
I rested a hand on Rowland’s back, feeling the coiled strength of his wolf beneath my palm.
“I never said I’d let you off,” I said, my voice dropping to a cold whisper.
“And you think you can stop from leaving?”
We turned to go... but a cold wind swept through the doorway.
A scent I could never forget.
Nathan’s.
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