The corridor blurred into a tunnel of gold light and panic.
Aria stumbled, her heels clicking frantically against the marble as she put distance between herself and the library. Between herself and him.
The moment the heavy oak door had slammed shut, severing her proximity to Damien, the sickness had returned with a vengeance. The relief she had felt in his presence, that terrifying, electric silence in her nervous system was gone. The headache crashed back into her skull like a receding tide that had turned into a tsunami.
She turned a corner blindly, gasping for air, and collided hard with a solid wall of chest.
"Whoa, easy there, Ari."
Strong hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her before she could hit the floor. The scent was familiar—not the overwhelming storm of Rain and Ash, but something warm and grounding.
Aria looked up through her tears.
Ethan Wilder.
He looked out of place in his tuxedo, like a rough diamond wrapped in velvet. His sandy hair was already messy, as if he'd run his hands through it a dozen times, and his green eyes were wide with concern.
"Ethan," she choked out, her knees giving way.
He caught her effortlessly, scooping her up and maneuvering them into a quiet alcove away from the prying eyes of the main hallway. He set her down on a velvet bench but didn't let go of her hands.
"Hey, hey, look at me," he murmured, his voice dropping to that soothing cadence she remembered from childhood. He used his thumb to wipe a tear from her cheek. "You're shaking. Did someone hurt you? Was it Stone?"
Aria shook her head, unable to form words. Not Stone. The King.
Ethan frowned, his jaw tightening. "I saw you run out. I saw him go after you." He didn't say the name, but the venom was clear. "Did the High and Mighty King Damien say something?"
"He..." Aria swallowed the sob rising in her throat. "He hates me, Ethan. He looked at me like I was a disease."
Ethan let out a sharp breath. "He's a blind idiot, then."
He sat down next to her, bumping his shoulder against hers. "Look, don't let him get to you. He's just a guy in a fancy suit. If he gives you any more trouble, I'll handle him."
Aria looked at him, a watery laugh bubbling up despite the pain in her head. "You? He's the Lycan King, Ethan. He could snap you in half."
Ethan grinned, that crooked, boyish grin that used to make the girls at their high school swoon. He flexed an arm comically. "I don't know, Ari. I've been hitting the gym. I bet I could take him. One solid right hook to that perfect jaw? He'd go down crying."
The absurdity of it—Ethan Wilder, a Gamma's son, punching the most powerful creature on the continent—made the tight knot in Aria's chest loosen just a fraction.
A memory surfaced, unbidden.
Ten years ago. The playground behind the pack house. Aria was twelve, crying in the dirt because the other kids had thrown rocks at her, calling her 'defect.' Ethan had come out of nowhere, skinny and scrappy, and tackled a boy twice his size. He'd gotten a black eye for his trouble, but he hadn't shed a tear.
Later, sitting by the creek, he had wiped the mud off her face with his shirt. "Let them talk," he'd said fiercely. "When we grow up, I'm going to be strong enough for both of us."
"You always were a terrible liar," Aria whispered, leaning into his warmth. "But thank you."
"I'm serious," Ethan said, his voice softening. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered there, warm and gentle. "You don't deserve this, Aria. None of it. You're worth ten of him."
For a second, the air between them shifted. Ethan's gaze dropped to her lips, and there was a flicker of something that wasn't just friendship. It was longing.
Aria's heart twisted. Ethan was safe. He was kind. He was the raft in the storm.
But he wasn't the ocean.
Before she could respond, the sound of heavy boots marching in unison echoed down the corridor.
Ethan straightened, his body going rigid. "What the..."
The main doors at the end of the hall burst open.
Alpha Damien strode through, flanked by four members of his Guard. He was no longer the conflicted man in the library. He was the Executioner. His face was a mask of cold, unyielding granite, his silver eyes devoid of any emotion.
But when his gaze landed on Ethan's hand—still resting on Aria's cheek—the air temperature in the hallway seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Get away from her," Damien commanded.
It wasn't a request. It was an Alpha command, laced with power that vibrated in the floorboards.
Ethan flinched, his wolf instinct screaming at him to submit, but he didn't move. He stood up, placing himself between Aria and the King.
"She's sick," Ethan said, his voice shaking but defiant. "She needs to go home."
Damien didn't even slow down. He stopped three feet away, his guards fanning out to block the exits.
"She is not going home," Damien said, his voice flat. He looked past Ethan, straight at Aria. "Aria Frost of the White Fang Pack. You are under arrest."
Aria stood up, her legs trembling. "Arrest? For what?"
Damien's expression was unreadable, but his eyes were burning with a terrifying intensity.
"Violation of the Purity Decree," he lied smoothly. "You entered a Royal gathering while harboring a contagion. You are a health risk to the Council and the King."
"That's a lie!" Ethan shouted, stepping forward. "She's just wolfless! That's not a crime!"
"Ethan, stop," Aria whispered, grabbing his sleeve. She could see the violence coiling in Damien's muscles.
"Silence," Damien snapped. He flicked his hand, and two of the Wolves moved forward. "Seize her."
"No!" Ethan lunged.
It happened in a blur. Ethan threw a punch—just like he promised—but he never connected. Damien moved faster than sight. He caught Ethan's fist in mid-air, twisted, and shoved. Ethan went flying, crashing into the wall with a sickening thud.
"Ethan!" Aria screamed.
She tried to run to him, but rough hands grabbed her arms. The guards hauled her back.
"Do not test me, boy," Damien growled, staring down at Ethan, who was groaning on the floor. "Be grateful I don't strip the skin from your bones for touching what is... for touching a prisoner of the Crown."
He caught himself, but Aria heard it.
Touching what is mine.
Damien turned to Aria. Up close, the scent of Rain and Ash washed over her again, confusing her senses. He looked at the guards holding her.
"Take her to the transport," Damien ordered, his voice cold, though his eyes lingered on the bruise forming on her arm where the guard gripped her. "She is to be transferred to the Fortress immediately. Solitary confinement."
"My parents..." Aria gasped, struggling against the hold.
"Have been informed," Damien said. "They surrendered you to the King without hesitation."
The words struck harder than any physical blow. They gave her up. Of course they did.
"Walk," the guard barked, shoving her forward.
Aria looked back over her shoulder as she was dragged away. Ethan was pushing himself up from the floor, blood trickling from his lip, his eyes wide with helplessness.
"I'll come for you!" Ethan shouted, his voice cracking. "Aria, I promise!"
Damien stepped into her line of sight, blocking Ethan from view. The King's face was stone, but as the doors closed between them, sealing Aria's fate, she saw his hand twitch at his side.
He wasn't arresting a criminal. He was hoarding a secret.
The headache pounded a rhythm against her skull as they marched her out into the cold night air: Prisoner. Prisoner. Prisoner.