Stuck Between Two Alphas: Read Chapters 1-5

Aria’s POV

The morning sun barely peeked through the small, grimy window of my cramped bedroom—a glorified storage closet, really. I sat up on the thin mattress and rubbed my eyes, the sound of my mother’s voice already ringing from downstairs.

“Aria! Are you going to sleep all day?” Her words were laced with annoyance, the familiar edge that made me dread getting up each morning. “Get down here and start the breakfast. Lila has a busy day, and I won’t have her waiting on you.”

Taking a steadying breath, I pulled on the faded sweater and jeans I’d worn the day before. They were the only clothes I owned, all hand-me-downs from Lila. Nothing new, nothing truly mine. Everything about my life was a reflection of how little I mattered.

As I entered the kitchen, my mother’s eyes flicked over me, a look of disappointment flashing in them, as if even the sight of me was a reminder of something she'd rather forget. I moved to the stove and started scrambling eggs, my hands moving automatically. Beside me, Lila leaned against the counter, smirking.

“Don’t burn the eggs, Aria,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “You know how Mother hates it when you mess up. Again.”

She grinned, her beauty—something everyone praised her for—seeming sharper, more menacing. In every way that I was small and plain, Lila was radiant and adored. She had her wolf, her status, and everyone in the pack respected her. I couldn’t say the same for myself.

“Maybe she can’t help it,” my mother said, looking at me with that all-too-familiar sneer. “Wolfless and useless.” She sighed heavily. “If only we hadn’t lost Oliver…” Her words trailed off, but the implication hung in the air like a dark cloud. Oliver was my little brother. Thinking about him brought a fresh wave of sadness over me.

I couldn't even dare to remember what he looked like, or say his name anymore.

Memories of that fateful night came flooding back and I flinched. I could still picture my hands covered in blood. His blood.

I swallowed back the hurt and pain, focusing on stirring the eggs, willing my hands not to shake and tears not to fall.

Soon, the pack house started filling with people—warriors and higher-ranking members preparing for the day. They barely acknowledged me as I moved around, serving food, refilling drinks, cleaning up. To them, I was invisible—the wolfless daughter, the girl who couldn’t measure up to her sister.

“Move faster, Aria,” barked one of the senior warriors as he passed, shoving me aside to grab his drink. “Honestly, you’re more of a nuisance than anything.”

I forced a nod, biting my lip to hold back a response. It was always like this, from dawn until dusk—orders, insults, scorn. And no matter what I did, I could never escape the shadow Lila had cast over my life.

By afternoon, I was cleaning the training room when a group of pack members came in, laughing. I recognized Orion among them, the Alpha’s second son, his piercing gaze raking over the room until he landed on me. He barely ever spoke to me, but whenever our eyes met, I felt a strange, intense connection I didn’t understand. Today, though, his gaze was cold, almost disdainful.

“Still here, Aria?” he said with a smirk, his voice carrying a mocking edge that made my stomach twist. “I figured you would have found somewhere else to hide by now.”

The others laughed, and I felt my face flush with shame. Orion’s words hurt, even more so because a part of me had always wished he’d seen me differently. I've always had this huge crush on him but my sister made it clear to everyone that I was the failure of the family.

No one wanted me.

I forced myself to keep scrubbing, ignoring the laughter, pretending I couldn’t hear the whispers. They moved closer, making comments about how I’d probably never shift, how I was a liability to the pack, how I was better off leaving. The taunts blurred together, each word chipping away at the small pieces of dignity I had left.

As the group finally left, I sank onto my knees, my hands trembling, a lump forming in my throat. This was my life—a constant cycle of humiliation and rejection, of yearning for acceptance that would never come. I wanted to scream, to tell them that I'm human too and I deserve a chance to be happy. But I knew it would only make things worse.

But do I really deserve to be happy after what I did?

By the time I finished cleaning, the sky outside had darkened, and the pack house was quiet. I slowly made my way back to my room, exhaustion weighing me down like a heavy cloak. My mother crossed my path in the hallway, her lips curling into a disdainful smile.

“Done with your duties?” she asked, feigning sweetness, though her eyes were filled with contempt. “Good. Don’t forget—you’re only here because of my pity, Aria. The least you could do is show some gratitude.”

“Yes, Mother,” I murmured, bowing my head.

As she walked away, I felt a surge of anger bubble within me—a raw, simmering anger that I rarely allowed myself to feel. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to scream, to hit something, to let them all know the pain they’d buried me under. But I swallowed it down, forcing myself to stay quiet, to keep the mask of obedience firmly in place.

In the silence of my small room, I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if there was a place out there where I could be free. A place where I didn’t have to live in my sister’s shadow, where I wasn’t weighed down by guilt for things I hadn’t done.

As my eyes drifted shut, I let myself imagine that somewhere, somehow, I’d find a way to escape. But as reality settled back in, I knew it was just a dream—a fleeting, impossible wish that would never come true. And with that, I drifted into a restless sleep, dreading the dawn and all it would bring.

Aria’s POV

The house was buzzing with excitement as Lila prepared for her celebratory dinner with Connor. The pack had been anticipating his return from Alpha training, and today was supposed to be a day of joy. For everyone, except me.

My mother had insisted I stay out of the way. “Don’t embarrass us tonight,” she had said, her tone as cutting as always. “Lila has worked hard to make sure Connor sees her as worthy. You don’t want to ruin everything again, do you?”

So I kept to the shadows, cleaning in silence, as the rest of the house filled with voices. I could hear Lila laughing in the living room with her friends, her voice sweet, full of triumph, her every word a dagger aimed at me.

Honestly, they will be perfect together—she, the beautiful, accomplished one, and he, the strong and commanding Alpha’s son. I was nothing.

But even as I scrubbed the counters, I felt something shift in the air. I couldn’t explain it. There was a strange pull in my chest, a magnetic force drawing me toward the hallway.

I couldn’t help myself. I stepped toward the source of the change, following an invisible thread.

And then I saw him.

Connor.

His tall, muscular frame filled the doorway, his dark hair tousled from his long journey, his eyes scanning the room like he was surveying a kingdom. The pack members gathered around him, greeting him, eager to see their future Alpha back home. His gaze swept over the room, but then—he stopped.

His eyes locked with mine. For the briefest of moments, everything else seemed to disappear.

I froze, feeling something deep stirred inside me—a sensation so strong, it sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if the universe itself was whispering the truth to me. But I didn’t understand. Why did he look at me like that?

Connor’s jaw tightened, his lips curling into a hard line. The room seemed to grow still as the truth hit me all at once. The mate bond.

But how could it be?

Connor wasn’t supposed to be my mate. He was Lila’s. He had always been hers. They’d been inseparable since they were children, and I had always known my place: the invisible twin, the one who didn’t matter.

“I… I think I need a moment,” I heard Connor mutter, his voice strained as he turned away from me, clearly unsettled.

Before I could even process what was happening, my mother appeared from nowhere, her eyes narrowing when she saw me standing there, frozen in the doorway.

“Aria, what are you doing?” she hissed, her voice low but filled with venom. “Leave. Now. Go back to your room. Don’t ruin this for Lila.”

But Connor was already speaking again, his voice loud and unwavering, carrying the weight of his Alpha blood.

“Wait.” He turned back to face me, his expression unreadable but hard, as if he had made a decision. “No.” He shook his head. “I won’t do this. I won’t.”

My heart skipped a beat. What was he talking about? What was going on? The air seemed to vibrate with the tension between us.

“I—” He paused, as though he was searching for the right words. “I reject you. Aria Carrington, I reject you as my mate.”

The words felt like a slap, each syllable cutting deeper than any physical blow. My breath caught in my throat. I could feel the bond that had begun to form between us—the connection I didn’t even know existed—snap and break in an instant.

The room fell silent, the pack members staring in stunned disbelief, their faces a blur of confusion, but it didn’t matter. The pain that seared through me was too much to bear. My chest constricted, and I wanted to run—to disappear, to escape. But all I could do was stand there, shattered, in front of everyone.

My mother didn’t even seem surprised. She stood there, her face twisted with disdain, her lips curling into a cruel smile.

“See? Even your mate rejects you, Aria. You’ve never belonged here. You’ve never belonged anywhere. Maybe it’s time you just leave and never come back. Go die somewhere, far away from us. You’re a disgrace to this pack.”

Her words hit me harder than anything Connor had said. A deep, suffocating ache filled my chest, and I knew, without a doubt, I didn’t belong here. Not to them. Not to anyone.

I turned and ran as they all burst out laughing, my legs carrying me through the hall, out the door, into the cold night air. The pack house behind me felt like a prison, and the darkness of the woods surrounding me offered no comfort, only the promise of an escape I wasn’t sure I even wanted anymore.

I ran for hours, past the trees and the familiar sights of the pack’s territory, until I could no longer see the flickering lights of the house in the distance. My breath came in ragged gasps, my mind numb. The only thing I could think of was getting away.

My feet were raw, my body exhausted, but I kept moving, pushing through the ache in my chest, the tears burning in my eyes.

I stumbled into a small human town just as the sun was starting to dip beneath the horizon. I didn’t know where I was, didn’t care. There was only one thing left to do.

I stared at the vial in my trembling hands, the contents shimmering under the dim light of the alley. I've been carrying it for over a week now, trying to summon the courage to end it all but today is the day.

My mind was a blur—clouded with the cruel rejection, the years of abuse, the suffocating weight of my family’s hate. It all felt endless.

The bitter liquid tasted like death as it slid down my throat, burning with the promise of finality. For the first time in years, I felt the knot in my chest loosen, and my thoughts became distant, blurry.

I collapsed to the ground, my limbs heavy as the cold concrete pressed against my skin. I could feel my heart slowing, a numbness sweeping over me. This was it. The end.

Everything started to blur—sounds faded into nothingness, the world spinning, becoming a distant memory. The last thought I had was that no one would care. No one would even notice I was gone.

Aria’s POV

I woke up to the sound of birdsong and the soft warmth of sunlight streaming through the large, intricately framed windows. For a moment, I wondered if this was the afterlife—if the end had led me to a place of peace.

I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the golden light. The bed beneath me was impossibly soft, draped in silken sheets that carried a faint scent of lavender. I turned my head slowly, taking in the unfamiliar room.

This is definitely the afterlife.

It was lavish, with high ceilings and ornate details on every surface. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and antique furniture gleamed with the sheen of polished wood. It felt too perfect, too elegant to be anything but heaven—or a dream.

"Am I... dead?" I whispered, my voice raspy and weak. I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced me back down. I closed my eyes, focusing on the rhythmic pounding of my heart. Was this what the afterlife felt like? Or was it just another cruel illusion?

"You're awake," a deep voice said, startling me.

I turned my head quickly, wincing at the ache that shot through me. Standing at the edge of the room was a man—a tall, commanding figure with silver-streaked hair and a face that held both wisdom and sadness. He was impeccably dressed in fine clothing that hinted at nobility, his posture regal yet approachable. He watched me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed. "Are you... here to take me to the afterlife?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, laced with confusion and fear.

To my surprise, the man threw his head back and laughed, a warm, rich sound that filled the room. "No, my dear," he said, his eyes softening as he looked at me. "You’re very much alive. And this—" he gestured around the opulent room—"is my private villa."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to catch up. "I... don’t understand."

He stepped closer, his expression turning solemn. "I found you on the ground, barely clinging to life. You were cold, pale—dying. I couldn’t leave you there. I brought you here and did what I could to help. Seeing you suffer... It reminded me of my daughter. She’s gone now, but you—there’s something about you."

His voice cracked, and he paused, composing himself. "You have her spirit. Her strength."

A lump formed in my throat. "You saved me?" I whispered. Someone actually saved me? Someone found me worthy to be saved? Why?

“Who are you?” I asked, still shocked. “An angel?”

He threw his head back in a hearty laugh. "My name is Richard Blackwood. I couldn’t bear to watch you die. I couldn’t let it happen." He hesitated, his gaze searching mine.

“What is your name?”

“Aria. Aria Carrington,” I muttered.

“Tell me, Aria” he said softly, his voice raw with genuine curiosity. “Why would a young, promising girl like you ever think of ending her life?"

My breath caught in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. I’d expected pity, scorn, maybe even more judgment. But the question, asked with such softness, broke something inside me. For the first time in a long time, I felt seen—not as a burden or a failure, but as a person with a story to tell.

Then it all came crashing down. I spilled everything as though cleansing myself from the years of pain.

“I didn’t want to keep living in a world that hated me,” I began, the words tumbling out like a flood I couldn’t control. “I’m worthless. I’m nothing. My parents, my pack—they treated me like I was less than dirt. My mother made sure I knew every day that I was a thorn in her flesh. She said… she told me to go and die far away. That she didn’t even want to see my dead body if I died.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I couldn’t hold them back. The weight of my past, of years spent enduring torment and rejection, pressed down on me until I felt like I’d suffocate.

“My sister, Lila,” I continued, my voice shaking. “She was everything I wasn’t—powerful, beautiful, the pride of our family. And I was nothing. My parents doted on her, and they hated me for being a reminder of their ‘shame.’ I… I was rejected by the one person who should have stood by me, who should have seen me as his own. Lila made sure of it.”

Richard's expression darkened, a flicker of confusion and something dangerous crossing his face. “I’m so sorry, Aria,” he whispered. He reached out, pulling me into a gentle embrace. His warmth was both foreign and comforting, a reminder of what I’d been denied for so long.

“I’ll shield you,” he said, his voice low but filled with unshakable conviction. “You are not worthless. There is something in you—something strong and fierce. It reminds me of my daughter. She was taken from me months ago. I can’t… I can’t change what happened to her. But perhaps, I can help you, and we can help each other.”

A quiet moment passed as his words sank in. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice trembling with hope and disbelief.

He pulled back, meeting my gaze with solemn eyes. “I want you to be my daughter, truly. I have no one left, just as you don’t. Let us build something together. We’ll move back to the city where I’m based, and you’ll start a life—as my heir, as my daughter. Ivy Blackwood.”

The sincerity in his words brought more tears. “Why… why would you do that?”

“Because you deserve better. And maybe, in helping you, I can find a reason to keep moving forward myself.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me in a reality that still felt like a dream.

Just then, a knock echoed through the room. Richard stood, his jaw tightening. “Stay here. I’ll return shortly.” He strode out, leaving me alone with a heart too full of emotions I’d long thought impossible—hope, fear, yearning.

When he came back, his eyes were clear, a faint smile on his lips. “Just a minor issue. It’s resolved now.” He paused, studying me. “But there’s one thing I need to know.”

His tone shifted, becoming serious, and I felt my pulse quicken. “Why do they hate you so much, Aria? What’s the real reason?”

A chill ran down my spine. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “Because…” I swallowed, the words clawing at my throat.

“Because I killed my younger brother.”

Aria’s POV

The confession slipped from my lips, raw and unfiltered. “Because I killed my younger brother."

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and ominous. My voice trembled, betraying the effort it took to say them aloud. For years, I had buried this truth deep within, afraid of what it would mean to let it surface. Now, I felt exposed, as though I had torn open an old, festering wound that refused to heal.

I stared at the ground, too ashamed to meet Richard’s gaze. I braced myself for the inevitable—the flicker of disgust, the revulsion that would spread across his face. I had seen it so many times before in the eyes of others, in the hushed whispers and pointed fingers that followed me everywhere.

But Richard didn’t pull away. His grip on my hand tightened, steady and grounding, as if silently telling me I wasn’t alone.

“Aria,” he said, his voice calm yet firm, “you didn’t kill your brother.”

My head snapped up, my eyes locking onto his. The certainty in his tone caught me off guard. “What happened could have been a terrible accident,” he continued. “You are just a child. No one should have blamed you for that.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring his face. His words, so simple yet profound, pierced through the armor of guilt I had worn for years. No one had ever told me this before. Not once. Every glance, every word spoken behind my back had only reinforced what I already believed: that I was a monster.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice breaking as the tears spilled over. The words felt inadequate, but they were all I could muster. For so long, I had carried the weight of that night, the guilt of what I had done. Yet here was this man, a stranger who had no reason to care, telling me that I wasn’t beyond redemption.

Richard nodded, his expression unwavering. “We’ll leave this place soon,” he said, his voice steady with quiet determination. “We’ll return to the city and start fresh. Together, we’ll build a new life. You’ll have a purpose, a family. From this day forward, you’ll be Ivy Blackwood.”

The idea seemed like a mirage, almost too much to grasp. A new name, a new identity—it felt like a dream I didn’t deserve. But then, just as a flicker of hope began to take root in the cracks of my broken spirit, a voice cut through the moment like a blade.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding her.”

The words were cold, detached, yet laced with menace. My body tensed instinctively, and I turned toward the doorway.

A tall man stood there, his silhouette sharp against the dim light filtering in from the hall. His features were sharp, angular, and his piercing gaze pinned me in place. There was an air of authority about him, the kind that demanded obedience without question.

Richard immediately stepped in front of me, his broad frame acting as a shield. “Marcus,” he said, his tone frosty, “you’re intruding.”

Marcus's eyes barely flicked to Richard before returning to me. His gaze was unrelenting, dissecting me as though I were nothing more than a specimen under a microscope. “Have you forgotten the risk of taking in… strangers? Have you forgotten so soon what happened the last time?”

The word “stranger” hit me like a slap. I fought to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I felt the sting of it. That word had followed me my entire life—an outcast, an outsider, never truly belonging anywhere.

Thomas’s shoulders squared, his posture rigid with defiance. “Aria is my daughter now,” he said, his voice like steel. “She deserves a fresh start, and you will treat her as such.”

Marcus's mouth tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Very well,” he said at last, though his tone was anything but conciliatory. There was a warning buried beneath his words, a subtle threat. “But remember, Richard—loyalty is never guaranteed. You should know better.”

His implication was clear, and it cut deeper than I cared to admit. The doubts I had fought so hard to suppress came rushing back, drowning the fragile hope Richard had given me. Maybe Marcus was right. Maybe I didn’t deserve this chance at redemption.

Marcus lingered a moment longer, his presence oppressive, before finally turning and leaving. The tension in the room didn’t ease with his departure. If anything, it seemed to thicken, suffocating in its intensity.

Richard turned back to me, his expression softening, but there was pain in his eyes. Why? “Don’t let him get to you,” he said, his tone gentle yet resolute. “Marcus is wary of everyone, but he’ll see in time that you belong here.”

I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat refusing to loosen. “Are you sure?” I asked, my voice barely audible. “I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to bring you trouble.”

Richard stepped closer, his gaze piercing yet kind. “You’re not a burden, Aria. You’re stronger than you realize, and you’re not alone anymore.” He hesitated, then added, “Marcus is just looking out for me. But soon enough, he would see how special you are.”

His words settled over me like a warm blanket, soothing the storm raging inside me. For the first time in years, since the night my brother died, I felt a flicker of something I thought I had lost forever: hope.

But even as Richard's reassurances tried to anchor me, I couldn’t shake the memory of Marcus's cold, calculating gaze. His parting words echoed in my mind, a constant reminder that the past had claws, and it wasn’t done with me yet.

That night, as I lay in the large soft bed, I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts a chaotic mess. The walls felt too close, the air too thick. Somewhere in the distance, a branch scraped against the window, the sound sharp and grating. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Marcus's warning wasn’t just a general statement—it was a promise.

Sleep eluded me as doubt crept back in. Would Richard's faith in me withstand the weight of my past? Could I really build a new life, or was I destined to be a shadow, haunted by the ghosts of my sins?

What if he finds out about my real identity?

The darkness outside seemed to press against the room, oppressive and unrelenting. Somewhere deep in my heart, a voice whispered the truth I didn’t want to face: hope was a fragile thing, and it wouldn’t take much to shatter it.

And yet, as dawn’s first light began to seep through the cracks in the curtains, I held on to Richard's words like a lifeline.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

For now, that had to be enough.

Ivy’s POV

Years had passed since I left behind the life of Aria Carrington, the downtrodden twin who had been blamed, shamed, and all but erased from memory by my own pack.

I had become Ivy Blackwood, a woman who now walked with a different air—graceful, assured, someone who had conquered the ruins of her past and forged a new life with dignity.

The girl who had been nothing more than a shadow in the Full Moon pack now glimmered like a rare jewel in New Orleans’ elite society, my mysterious aura drawing those who sought to know me.

Tonight was my engagement party, and the grand hall was alive with music, lights, and elegantly dressed guests. Beside me stood Leo Ashton, the man I’d come to love with a depth I’d never thought possible.

Leo’s strong hand around my waist was both a comfort and a quiet assertion to the crowd. I was his, and he was mine. His eyes held an admiration and tenderness only I knew, and when he looked at me, I felt as though I were the center of his entire world.

“Mrs. Ivy Ashton,” Leo murmured into my ears, his voice low and teasing. “I like the sound of that.”

I laughed, the warmth of his gaze filling me with a sense of safety I rarely felt. “So do I,” I replied, my eyes twinkling as I scanned the room.

Just then, it happened—a prickling at the back of my neck, as if I were being watched, dissected. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Turning slowly, my gaze landed on a hauntingly familiar face across the hall, and my blood ran cold.

It was him. Connor.

The past I had so carefully buried surged up, ripping through me as raw as the day it had happened. My mind raced back to the rejection, the humiliation, the piercing words that had once shattered my spirit.

I could still hear his voice, cold and dismissive, tearing down the fragile hope I’d carried for so long.

Connor’s expression was unreadable, a mix of shock, regret, and disbelief. He stood in stunned silence, his eyes locking with mine as if I were a ghost coming back to haunt him.

I fought to steady my breathing, my heart hammering in my chest. I had imagined this moment a thousand times—where I was free, strong, and beyond the reach of those who’d tried to break me. And yet, here he was, and the weight of our past pressed on me like a chain I thought I’d shattered.

“Ivy?” Leo’s gentle voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. His hand tightened around my waist, his keen eyes catching my sudden shift in demeanor. “Is something wrong?”

Before I could answer, another figure emerged from behind Connor—a face that twisted my gut with a more potent dread than I’d thought possible. My mother, with that familiar calculating look, stood beside him. Lila and my father followed close behind, each gaze heavier and more damning than the last.

How are they here?

I felt Leo’s grip stiffen as he, too, noticed the strangers watching me with an intensity that went beyond mere curiosity. He looked at me, a silent question in his eyes, his protective instincts flaring.

My mind raced as the memories I’d buried deep inside resurfaced—years of blame, of silent suffering, of whispered accusations. It was as if they had come to claim me, to drag me back into the darkness I had fought so hard to escape.

I knew I shouldn’t be worried, not with Leo and my father by my side. I was no longer the helpless girl they’d once discarded. But I also knew that facing them would take every ounce of strength I had.

At least, I’m not alone.

Leo’s eyes sharpened, his stance subtly shifting into that of an Alpha assessing a potential threat. Good thing he is a human.

I despise my kind.

“Do you know them?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with steel.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “They used to be my family.”

The word felt foreign, bitter on my tongue, and Leo’s jaw clenched as he pieced together the gravity of the situation. “Do you want me to handle this?”

I shook my head, my gaze still locked on my mother’s piercing eyes. “No. I need to do this.”

Before he could say another word, my parents approached, flanked by Lila. My mother’s eyes, so much like my own, burned with a mix of disdain and anger. She took me in, from my expensive gown to the jewels that adorned me, and sneered as if I had no right to wear them.

“Look at you,” she spat, her voice low but no less venomous. “You think you can wash away your shame with luxury? Do you think this life makes you any different? Underneath it all, you’re still the same filthy, worthless maid who disgraced her family and pack.”

Leo moved to say something but I held him back. This was my fight. I could feel the old wounds reopening, each syllable she spoke slicing through me. Lila stepped forward then, her smile cruel, her words even crueler.

“It’s amusing, really,” she said, her gaze flicking to Leo and back to me. “We thought you died. But here you are, parading around as if you belong in the land of the living. As if these clothes, this status, could ever hide what you truly are. Pathetic.”

The sting of their words ignited a flicker of the old shame, but it didn’t last. Because at that moment, Leo stepped between me and them, his expression darkening with fury.

“If you think you can speak to her like that and walk away unscathed,” Leo said, his words sharp enough to draw blood, “you’re mistaken.”

The air in the room seemed to crackle with energy as my parents exchanged wary glances. But while my parents faltered, Connor did not. His eyes never left mine, a storm of emotion raging beneath the surface.

I hated how my heart responded to that gaze, the way it made every nerve in my body come alive. It was a pull I despised, a connection I had sworn to sever. But I was no longer an eighteen year old girl, desperate for his approval.

“Come to me, mate,” he said suddenly, the words low and filled with a dark, possessive hunger that sent shivers down my spine.

The audacity of it all—the gall to call me that after everything—-made me laugh, though the sound was harsh and bitter.

“Mate?” I spat, my eyes blazing with fury. “Didn’t you reject me years ago, Connor?”

He seemed relaxed, which made me more angry. “I made a mistake,” he said, voice thick with something that might have been regret. “I see that now.”

“Go to hell Connor,” I replied, my voice cold as the winter wind. Yet as I looked at his direction, I felt the weight of every emotion I’d tried to bury. Anger, hatred…and something else I refused to name.

“Come to me,” he said one more time, his voice a deep growl.

I swear to the moon, I would kill him. Who the hell does he think he is?

“Wait,” I whispered to myself, the room spinning as past and present collided. “How did I get here?” I muttered as I found myself standing in front of Connor, staring into his dark-brown eyes.

“Good girl.”