POV: Aria
My legs give out.
One second I'm running behind Damon through the dark forest, and the next I'm on my hands and knees in the dirt. My whole body shakes so hard my teeth chatter.
"Get up." Damon's voice is cold. "We're not safe yet."
"I can't." The words hurt coming out. Everything hurts. My muscles feel like they're on fire. Those rogues didn't wound me badly, but terror and running for over an hour has destroyed me. "Just... just give me a minute."
Damon spins around, his eyes flashing in the moonlight. For a second, I think he's going to yell at me. Tell me I'm weak. Pathetic. All the things he's always said.
Instead, he crouches down in front of me. "The cabin is close. Five more minutes. Can you do that?"
I want to say no. I want to collapse right here and sleep for a week. But something in his voice makes me nod.
"Good." He stands and holds out his hand.
I stare at it. Damon Steele has never offered to help me. Ever. This has to be a trick.
"Take it or don't," he says. "But decide fast. Those rogues might have friends nearby."
I grab his hand.
His skin is warm against mine, and the mate bond explodes with happiness. It's like every cell in my body is screaming YES, TOUCH HIM MORE. I hate it. I hate that holding hands with my bully feels this good.
Damon pulls me to my feet, but he doesn't let go. "Come on."
We walk hand-in-hand through the trees. It's weird and confusing and the bond is practically purring. I'm so distracted by the feelings flooding through me that I almost miss it when Damon stops.
"We're here."
I look up and see... nothing. Just more trees and darkness.
"Where?"
Damon points, and then I see it. Hidden behind thick vines and overgrown bushes is a tiny cabin. It looks ancient, like it might fall apart if someone breathes on it wrong.
"This was my mother's," Damon says quietly. "Nobody knows about it except me."
The way he says "mother" makes my chest tight. Everyone knows the story. Luna Catherine died when Damon was twelve. Rogues attacked her during a border patrol. It's the whole reason Alpha Rowan became so mean, and why Damon grew up to be cruel.
At least, that's what people say.
Damon drops my hand—and I immediately miss the warmth—then walks to the cabin door. It opens with a loud creak that makes me jump.
Inside, everything is covered in dust and cobwebs. There's a small couch that looks like mice have been living in it, a fireplace full of old ashes, and a doorway leading to what must be a bedroom.
"It's not much," Damon says. He won't look at me. "But you'll be safe here while we figure out what to do next."
I sink onto the couch and a cloud of dust explodes around me. I don't even care. Sitting down feels like heaven.
"What about you?" I ask. "Won't your father notice you're gone?"
"I'll tell him I'm tracking the rogues who got away." Damon starts cleaning out the fireplace. "He won't question it."
My stomach growls so loud it echoes in the small cabin. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning. Maybe longer. I've lost track of time.
Damon almost smiles. Almost. "Stay here. I'll get food."
"Wait, where are you—"
But he's already gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
I'm alone.
The silence is so complete it makes my ears ring. For the first time in three days—since my wolf appeared and ruined everything—I can actually breathe. The mate bond has gone quiet now that Damon is close by. It's not pulling at me or making me feel like I'm dying anymore.
I should run. Right now, while he's gone, I could shift and disappear into the forest. Find a new pack far away where nobody knows me.
But I'm so tired. And the bond whispers that running would hurt. Hurt me, hurt Damon, hurt us both until we couldn't take it anymore.
I hate the Moon Goddess for doing this to me.
I get up and explore because sitting still makes me think too much. The cabin is just two rooms—the main area and a tiny bedroom. In the bedroom, there's an old dresser covered in more dust. On top of it, I find photos in cracked frames.
A beautiful woman with long dark hair and kind eyes smiles out at me. Damon's mother. In the photos, there's a little boy with messy hair who's laughing. He looks so happy. So different from the cold, mean Damon I know.
What happened to that little boy?
"Find anything interesting?"
I spin around so fast I almost drop the photo. Damon stands in the doorway holding a bag. He must have run to a nearby town and back. That's the only way he could have gotten food this fast.
"Sorry," I set the photo down carefully. "I wasn't trying to snoop."
"It's fine." Damon walks past me to the main room. "Come eat."
We sit by the fireplace—which Damon somehow got started while I wasn't looking—and eat in silence. Sandwiches and water. It's the best meal I've ever had.
"Thank you," I finally say. The words feel clumsy in my mouth. "For saving me. And for... this."
Damon stares into the fire. "The mate bond would've killed me if something happened to you. I didn't have a choice."
His words slice into me like claws. Of course. He's only helping me because the bond forces him to. Not because he actually cares about me as a person.
But then Damon speaks again, softer. "That's not completely true."
I look at him, surprised.
"Even before I felt you were in danger through the bond," he continues, "I knew something was wrong. I couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Every second away from you was torture." He finally meets my eyes. "When I saw those rogues touching you, I wanted to kill them. Not because they touched my mate—because they touched YOU. Aria."
My name in his mouth sounds different. Not mean or mocking like usual. Almost... gentle.
"You still hate me though," I whisper. "You made that very clear."
"I don't hate you." Damon's jaw tightens. "I never hated you, Aria. I hated what you represented."
"What does that even mean?"
For a long moment, he's quiet. The fire crackles between us, throwing shadows across his face. Then he starts talking, and I realize he's telling me things he's probably never told anyone.
"My mother was soft. Kind. She cared about omegas and weak wolves. My father hated that about her." Damon's voice is rough with old pain. "When she died, my father told me it was her fault. That she was too gentle, too trusting, and that's why the rogues killed her. He said if I didn't want to end up dead too, I needed to be hard. Strong. Ruthless."
My chest feels too tight. I think I understand where this is going, but I need to hear him say it.
"You reminded me of her," Damon continues. "Your kindness. The way you helped people even when they treated you like garbage. My father noticed too. He started comparing me to you, saying I was soft like the pathetic Winters girl. So I..." He stops, his hands clenching into fists. "I made you a target. If I was cruel to you, my father couldn't call me weak anymore."
The confession hangs in the air between us.
All these years, I thought Damon hated me because I was worthless. Because there was something wrong with me. But it was never about me at all. It was about a scared twelve-year-old boy trying to survive his father's abuse the only way he knew how.
I should feel relieved. Or maybe angry that I suffered because of Alpha Rowan's cruelty.
Instead, I just feel sad. Sad for little Damon who lost his mother. Sad for the boy in those photos who learned to bury his kindness to survive.
"I'm sorry," Damon says suddenly. He won't look at me. "For everything. I know sorry doesn't fix anything, but—"
A howl cuts through the night.
We both freeze.
It's not just one howl. It's dozens. Coming from every direction around the cabin.
"No," Damon breathes. He jumps to his feet and runs to the window. "No, no, no."
"What? What is it?" I'm beside him in seconds.
Through the dirty glass, I see them. Wolves. At least twenty, maybe more, forming a circle around the cabin. Their eyes glow in the darkness like small moons.
"We're surrounded," Damon says. His voice is empty of hope. "They tracked us here."
"The rogues?" My heart is pounding so hard it hurts.
"Worse." Damon backs away from the window. "That's my father's pack. He sent warriors after us."
The front door explodes inward with a crash that makes me scream.
Standing in the doorway, backlit by moonlight, is Alpha Rowan himself. His eyes burn with rage as he looks at his son.
"Hello, Damon," he says, his voice deadly calm. "It's time we had a talk about your little betrayal."
Behind him, I see someone else step into view. My stomach drops.
It's my father, Beta Marcus. And he's holding silver chains—the kind used to bind wolves and block their ability to shift.
He looks right at me with cold, empty eyes.
"Hello, daughter," he says. "You've caused quite enough trouble. Time to come home and face your punishment."