The rain had not stopped since the evening.
It fell in a quiet rhythm, soft at first, then harder, washing the city in silver and cold.
Each drop that hit my car roof sounded like a heartbeat — steady, loud, painful.
She was gone before I could even find the words to stop her.
Just turned away and kept walking, her small figure fading into the fog and shadows of the street.
Her hair was damp, clinging to her neck, and her hands trembled as she hugged her bag tight to her chest.
She didn't look back.
Not once.
And maybe that hurt the most.
I could have let her go.
I should have.
But my chest felt heavy, like something inside was breaking with every step she took away from me.
So I followed her.
The road was narrow, the streetlights dim and flickering like dying stars.
The world looked gray, quiet, empty — except for her.
She was like a small flame refusing to die in the storm.
She passed a group of drunk men by a corner shop.
They turned, eyes following her like wolves spotting prey.
I gritted my teeth, my wolf growling beneath my skin.
One wrong move from any of them, and I'd make sure none of them ever saw daylight again.
But she walked faster, her chin high, her steps quick.
She didn't let them see her fear — but I could feel it from here.
I could smell it.
The way her heart raced, the way her breath shook.
When she reached the edge of town, she turned into a small, cracked lane, one barely lit.
The air was thick with the smell of rust and wet soil.
Old buildings lined the street, windows broken, doors half hanging.
She climbed the stairs of one of them, holding the railing like it might break if she let go too hard.
At the top, she unlocked a door and went in.
The light from inside was soft and weak, flickering like a candle fighting the wind.
I parked across the street and just sat there, watching her window.
My chest tightened.
This was where she lived now.
This… broken, forgotten place.
The same girl who once laughed under the golden lights of the pack house.
The same girl who used to sit on the balcony at night and tell me her dreams — that she wanted to be free, that she wanted to travel, that she wanted to live without fear.
And now look at her.
Trapped by the world's cruelty and my silence.
I leaned forward, resting my head on the steering wheel.
I could feel my heart beating too fast.
I wanted to go to her door, knock, and tell her everything — tell her I was sorry for not saving her, tell her I was lost too.
But what right did I have?
She had every reason to hate me.
Every reason to never want to see me again.
Through the glass, I could see her shadow moving.
She was cleaning her wound again, the one on her knee.
Her hands shook as she tied a piece of cloth around it, wincing quietly when the fabric touched her skin.
No first aid. No medicine. Nothing.
Just pain, strength, and silence.
And still, she didn't cry.
Not once.
That was Aria.
The girl who bled in silence and smiled like nothing could break her.
I sighed, staring up at her window again.
The rain blurred everything, but I could still see her outline.
She sat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Her face was pale, her eyes lost in the distance, like she was looking at something far away — maybe a memory, maybe a dream she had buried long ago.
"Why didn't you fight back?" I whispered.
My voice cracked in the darkness.
"Why didn't you tell them the truth?"
My wolf stirred inside me.
Because you were supposed to protect her, he said, his voice deep and low.
And he was right.
I failed her.
We failed her.
Lightning flashed across the sky, and for a second, I saw her clearly.
Her hair spread on the pillow like spilled ink.
Her eyes half closed.
She looked peaceful — but not from rest.
From exhaustion.
The kind that comes when you stop believing anyone will ever come for you.
My throat tightened.
It felt like something inside me was screaming, but no sound came out.
She turned slightly, her hand falling across her stomach.
She looked so fragile it made my hands shake.
I wanted to go to her, to just hold her once — even if she pushed me away, even if she screamed.
Anything would be better than this distance.
But I stayed.
Because if she saw me now, she would only see another ghost from a life she wanted to forget.
The night grew colder.
The rain louder.
The city quieter.
I sat there for what felt like hours, watching the soft light in her room.
It flickered once, twice, then went out.
Darkness.
She was asleep now.
I started the car engine, the sound echoing through the empty street.
My reflection in the glass looked tired, older, almost broken.
"She needs you," my wolf said again.
"She doesn't want me," I answered.
"Then make her want something else."
His words lingered in my head.
And slowly, a thought formed.
A dangerous, desperate thought.
If she wouldn't come back to me as her mate…
Then I'd bring her back another way.
A deal.
A contract.
A reason she couldn't refuse.
She needed money.
She needed safety.
And I needed her — not just because she was my mate, but because without her, I didn't feel like myself anymore.
I leaned back in the seat, the plan unfolding in my mind.
I'd make her my Luna — even if it was only by contract.
Even if she hated me for it.
Even if it meant pretending it was all business.
Because I'd rather have her close as my fake Luna than lose her forever.
The rain poured harder as I drove away, the sound filling the silence she left behind.
My hands clenched the wheel, my heart pounding with a mix of guilt and determination.
"Aria Crowns," I whispered into the storm,
"If love won't bring you back… maybe money will."
And the car disappeared into the dark, leaving only rain, thunder, and the promise of a deal that could change everything.