Aria Vale
The door slammed behind me, rattling in its frame.
I peeled my soaked jacket off with a violent shrug, every muscle burning with frustration. My mind still echoed with Damian's voice, the way he touched me — owned me — before stealing everything I'd fought for.
I needed silence. I needed space.
I stepped into the sitting room — and froze.
A woman sat there, perfectly composed, legs crossed, dark hair gleaming under the low light. She wore a sleek black dress, understated jewelry. Like she belonged there.
I didn't recognize her at first.
Not until she lifted her face and I saw the eyes — my eyes — staring back at me.
My breath caught sharp in my throat.
No.
It couldn't be.
It wasn't possible.
I locked down the emotion clawing up my chest and folded my arms instead, voice flat as a blade.
"What the hell are you doing in my house?"
Jasper and Kira stiffened behind me, instinctively waiting for an order. The woman — Everett Vale — lifted a hand, elegant and trembling all at once.
"Privacy," she said softly, voice breaking in places I didn't want to hear.
I didn't move.
After a tense beat, I jerked my chin toward Jasper and Kira. "Outside. Now."
They exchanged looks — unwilling — but obeyed, stepping out the door without a word. I was alone with her now.
Alone with a ghost.
The moment the door clicked shut, Everett surged to her feet.
She crossed the room fast — too fast — and wrapped her arms around me.
I stiffened, arms pinned uselessly at my sides.
The familiar scent of rosewater and rain clung to her skin, stirring memories I'd buried so deep I thought they were dead.
But memories were just another kind of wound.
I shoved her back hard.
Everett stumbled but caught herself, her face crumpling in something that looked suspiciously like hurt.
She opened her mouth — but I beat her to it.
"You didn't answer the question, "I said, cold as the rain dripping from my hair onto the polished floor.
"Why are you here?"
Her eyes glistened, desperate. "I missed you, Aria. I..."
"Missed me?" I laughed — harsh, ugly. "You missed me?"
I paced away from her, forcing myself not to throw something.
Not to scream.
"You were dead. You let me bury you. You let him..."
The words caught in my throat like broken glass.
Everett reached for me again. "Please, listen..."
I sliced the air between us with one hand, stopping her cold.
"No," I said. My voice shook, but not from fear.
From rage.
From grief.
"You don't get to come back. You don't get to act like any of this is normal."
I inhaled sharply, the words ripping out of me.
"You left me."
She shook her head, tears streaking her face now. "I had no choice—"
"You had every choice!" I roared, and this time the walls shook.
"You chose to disappear. You chose to let me fight alone. You chose yourself!"
Silence thundered between us.
Everett stood frozen, lips trembling, hands falling limp at her sides.
Somewhere behind my ribs, something cracked open — old and raw and bleeding.
I squared my shoulders.
"Get out," I said, dead calm.
Everett blinked, as if she hadn't heard.
"Get. Out."
Still she hesitated, reaching out one last time.
But I was already turning away.
The door opened behind her. Jasper stepped in, his face an unreadable mask. He took Everett gently by the arm.
"Come on," he said quietly.
And just like that, she was gone.
The door closed again with a soft click.
The rain outside was the only sound.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at nothing, arms wrapped tightly around myself.
The first sob tore free before I could stop it.
I dropped to my knees, the cold seeping into my bones, and let it come — wracking, shuddering cries that left me hollow and aching.
Kira slipped back inside, silent as a ghost.
She knelt beside me, one hand pressing firm and steady against my back.
Not a word.
Not a lie.
Just her.
The only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
---
I wiped my face hard — once, twice — furious with myself for breaking. For letting her see it.
Breathe.
Stand.
Move.
When I pushed myself upright, it was mechanical. Empty. But it was enough.
"We move forward," I said, my voice cracked and raw but steady. "We don't look back."
Kira didn't hesitate. She rose with me, quiet as a blade drawn in the dark.
The door creaked again. I didn't flinch.
Jasper stepped inside, dripping rain and guilt in equal measure.
I turned to him, stiff and cold, every word sharpening in my mouth before it left my lips.
"How long have you been lying to me?"
No shouting. No dramatics.
Just six words — clean, surgical strikes meant to cut him wide open.
Jasper froze, guilt flashing across his face like a neon sign.
"It wasn't my choice," he said, almost pleading. "She made the call. We thought—"
I slashed the air between us with a shake of my head.
"You thought I couldn't handle it."
God, it almost made me laugh. Almost.
Jasper took a step closer, but Kira moved too — a silent wall between us.
"We were trying to protect you," he said, voice low. Desperate. "Your father wanted..."
"My father is dead," I spat. "And so is the little girl you all thought needed protecting."
The rain outside roared louder, a fury that sounded a lot like the one tearing through my chest.
"You don't get to decide what I can survive," I said, softer now, deadlier. "You don't get to choose which truths I deserve."
Jasper flinched like I'd slapped him.
Good.
I stared at him for one long, brutal heartbeat. Then I turned my back.
"Kira," I said, voice slicing the heavy air, "get me everything on Everett Vale. Every file. Every contact. Every betrayal."
Kira didn't even blink — already pulling her phone from her jacket.
"And Jasper?"
I didn't even look at him.
He stiffened at the sound of his name.
"You want to make this right?" I said, my voice a jagged whisper.
"Then get the hell out of my sight."
There was a beat of silence — his regret bleeding into the room — and then the door slammed shut behind him.
I stood there, breathing hard, every muscle trembling from holding it all in.
Kira crossed the room and pressed a glass of whiskey into my hand.
I downed it in one burning swallow, the fire hitting my stomach like a punch.
Setting the empty glass down with a sharp clink, I looked up at her.
"Let's finish this," I said.
And this time?
I meant it.