The first sound I heard was the rain.
Soft, steady, endless.
It dripped through the cracked roof above my bed, one drop at a time, landing in the rusty bowl I'd placed there last night.
Plink… plink… plink…
I opened my eyes slowly.
The ceiling above me was gray, water-stained, and full of little holes.
For a few seconds, I just lay there, staring at it, my mind empty.
Then the pain came back — sharp, burning.
My knee. My shoulders. My heart.
I sat up and winced.
The cloth I'd tied around my wound was soaked again. The blood had dried dark red.
I touched it gently and hissed in pain.
Another day.
Another fight to survive.
The air was cold and smelled like damp wood and smoke.
My whole room was small — barely big enough for my narrow bed, one chair, and a table that looked like it could collapse any minute.
The wallpaper peeled at the corners.
The window glass was cracked, letting in thin streaks of wind and rain.
But it was home.
My only one.
I got up slowly and went to the tiny mirror by the wall.
My reflection looked like a ghost.
Pale skin. Red eyes. Hair tangled and falling over my face.
There were faint bruises on my arm — from last night.
From the guards who thought a poor delivery girl was something to push around.
My stomach twisted as I remembered it.
The way one of them laughed when I shouted at him.
The way I fell to the ground.
And then…
Him.
Jason.
My chest tightened.
I could still see him standing there — calm, powerful, terrifying.
The look in his eyes when he stepped between me and them.
It wasn't anger.
It was something else.
Something deep and dark and impossible to read.
I shook my head hard.
No. I wasn't going to think about him.
Not again.
He was the reason my life had burned down once already.
Because of his father.
Because of their lies.
Because they threw me out like trash.
And now he was back, looking at me like I was something precious he'd lost.
It made my heart ache — and I hated that.
I hated that part of me still remembered his scent, his voice, the way his eyes softened when he used to smile.
Stop it, Aria.
That boy doesn't exist anymore.
I washed my face with cold water from the bucket beside the bed.
The chill made me shiver, but at least it helped me wake up.
I had to go to work.
Rent was due, and I still hadn't made enough tips.
I pulled on my old uniform — the red shirt, the black apron with the pizza shop's faded logo — and tied my hair up in a messy bun.
Then I reached for my worn-out shoes and stepped outside.
The air hit me hard.
Cold. Wet. Sharp.
People were already moving about — some shouting, some laughing, some just running through the rain with umbrellas.
I held my small bag close and started walking.
The streets were slippery, full of puddles.
Every step splashed mud on my jeans.
But I kept going.
I'd learned long ago that standing still only made the pain worse.
When I reached the main road, I stopped at a small food stand.
The old woman who sold coffee there gave me a small paper cup and smiled.
"Rough night again?" she asked softly.
I nodded and paid with the few coins I had left.
"Don't give up, dear," she said, patting my hand. "Even storms end someday."
I smiled faintly, though my throat felt tight.
If only she knew how long my storm had been.
By the time I reached the shop, I was soaked through.
My boss, a round man with greasy hair, scowled when he saw me.
"You're late again, Aria!" he snapped.
"Sorry," I mumbled, hanging my wet jacket. "The rain—"
"No excuses. We have orders piling up. Move it!"
I bit my lip and went to work.
The smell of dough and smoke filled the air.
The ovens roared hot behind me.
I focused on packing boxes, taking calls, cleaning counters — anything to keep my mind busy.
But no matter how hard I tried, his face kept flashing in my head.
Jason.
The Alpha's son.
My past.
My mistake.
Why was he here?
Why now, after all these years?
I told myself it didn't matter.
He'd come, he'd seen what my life had become, and he'd leave.
Just like before.
That was what people like him did.
But I was wrong.
Because that evening, as I was sweeping the floor before closing, the doorbell rang.
I didn't even look up at first.
"Sorry, we're closed!" I said tiredly.
But the voice that answered made my whole body freeze.
> "Then I guess I'll just wait until you're open again."
I knew that voice.
Deep. Calm. Steady.
My heart started racing before I even turned around.
Jason stood by the door, rain dripping from his black coat, his eyes locked on me.
He looked taller somehow, colder, more controlled — but his gaze… his gaze burned like fire.
"What do you want?" I asked quietly, gripping the broom handle tight.
He didn't answer right away.
He just walked closer, slow, steady, the sound of his boots echoing against the floor.
When he finally stopped in front of me, he said softly,
> "I came to make you an offer."
I frowned, confused. "An offer?"
He nodded once, his jaw tight.
"Yes. A contract."
I let out a small, bitter laugh. "A contract? What kind of contract?"
His next words made my heart stop.
> "I want you to come back with me," he said. "To the pack. As my Luna."
The broom slipped from my hand and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
I stared at him, not sure I'd heard right.
"You want what?" I whispered.
He didn't flinch.
His voice was calm, but there was something desperate under it.
> "You need money. I need a Luna. It's a deal. No strings, no emotions. Just business."
For a long moment, I couldn't speak.
I just stared at him — this man who once broke my world, now asking me to walk back into it.
And as the rain beat against the windows, I felt something inside me crack open — a mix of anger, confusion, and something else I didn't want to name.