Aria's POV
I woke to the soft warmth of sunlight spilling across the room, brushing over the body pressed tightly against mine. Lucien's arm rested around my waist, his chest rising slowly against my back, each breath calm and steady like it had been waiting for me to wake. For one rare, perfect moment, nothing else existed no curse, no pack expectations, no politics. Just him. Just us. And the remnants of last night's heat still humming low in my stomach.
I shifted, turning enough to see his face softened by sleep. His lashes rested against his cheek, his hair tousled just enough to look sinful. My fingers traced the line of his forearm, and he stirred, opening one eye—already smirking.
"Morning, Aria," he murmured, his voice thick and warm from sleep.
"Morning," I whispered back. "You… stayed?"
"Of course." He brushed a kiss across my temple. "You think I'd leave after a night like that?"
I swallowed, my chest tightening. "We haven't had a night like that in weeks."
"I know." He shifted closer, tucking my body even tighter against his. "I'm sorry."
The words were quiet. Real. Rare.
I didn't answer. Instead, I let the silence settle between us, warm and fragile. And in that silence… the memories came.
They always did.
I remembered sitting in my father's office when I was young, my legs dangling off the edge of his massive wooden chair. The room smelled like pine, waxed leather, and the faint bitterness of old books. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, illuminating dust motes that drifted like tiny stars.
My father leaned forward, elbows on the desk, his gaze intense even when softened by pride.
"Aria," he said, "you're my only child. One day, you'll lead this pack."
My stomach had flipped, both excited and terrified. "But Papa… girls don't become Alphas."
"Then you'll be the first." He said it simply, as if the world would adjust to make it true.
I remember tugging nervously at the sleeves of my little training tunic. "What if I'm not strong enough?"
He frowned, not unkindly. "You are strong enough. But you will have to work harder than anyone else."
His voice dropped. "The men will question you. The elders will doubt you. They will look at you and see weakness because of what you are."
"A girl?" I whispered.
"No," he said firmly. "A threat."
A chill had gone down my spine, even at six years old.
And from that day on, he trained me relentlessly.
"Again."
"Faster."
"No hesitation."
"Get up — your enemy won't wait."
And I always did.
Even when I wanted to cry.
Even when my hands shook.
Even when my muscles screamed.
I grew up trying to become the Alpha he swore I could be.
But everything changed the night I turned sixteen.
My sixteenth birthday was supposed to be the moment everything made sense, the day I shifted, the day my wolf appeared, the day I proved I wasn't just a girl with her father's ambition.
My mother was up before sunrise, pacing excitedly around my room with dresses draped over her arms.
"Green," she decided at last, smoothing the forest-colored ceremonial gown across my bed. "It brings out the strength in your eyes."
"Mama…" I whispered, my stomach twisting. "What if today isn't the day?"
She froze, then sat beside me, grabbing my hands gently. "Aria, even if it doesn't happen tonight, you are not a failure. You hear me?"
Her thumb brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "But it will happen. I know it will."
I wanted to believe her.
By evening, the pack had gathered outside. Torches flickered in the wind, and the moon hung heavy in the sky, a perfect shifting moon, bright and full.
Warriors formed a wide circle around me, many whispering among themselves.
"She'll do it."
"She has to."
"She's an Alpha's daughter."
"Unless the rumors are true…"
The murmurs tightened around me like a noose.
My father stepped beside me, his presence overwhelming even without a word. He placed a hand on my shoulder, his voice low.
"You're ready, Aria."
"What if I'm not?" I whispered.
He turned me to face him fully, his eyes sharper than the blade strapped at his hip. "You are. I've trained you myself. You are strong. You are worthy. The pack will see that tonight."
But worthiness didn't matter to the moon.
When the ritual began, I stepped into the clearing, the cold grass damp beneath my bare feet. My heart slammed against my ribs.
My father stood behind me. "Focus," he murmured. "Close your eyes. Feel the shift."
So I did.
I inhaled deeply, searching for something—anything—inside me. I waited for the heat, the pulling sensation, the rush of power every wolf described.
But all I felt was… myself.
Plain, unchanged, human.
A tremor of panic shot through me.
I tried again.
And again.
The moonlight pressed down on me like a weight. My breath quickened, my chest tightening painfully.
The whispers started again.
"Why isn't she shifting?"
"She's sixteen—this is late."
"Maybe she isn't—"
"No. Impossible."
Heat burned at the back of my eyes, humiliation mixing with fear.
My father's voice tightened. "Aria. Concentrate. You're not focusing."
"I am," I choked. "I'm trying—Papa, I'm trying."
"Do it again."
He never raised his voice at me.
He didn't need to.
Disappointment was loud enough on its own.
I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms as if pain might force something awake inside me. I pictured my wolf. I imagined claws, fur, the shift breaking through.
Still—nothing.
Silence.
Cold, crushing silence.
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. My knees weakened, but I forced myself to stay upright.
My father's jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might crack. He stepped forward, turning away from the gathered pack so only I could hear.
"Aria," he whispered, voice barely holding steady. "Again."
My chest crumpled. "Papa… please."
His eyes flickered — not anger. Not disappointment. Something worse.
Fear.
For me.
For the pack.
For the future he had planned.
When I could no longer hold myself up, I sank to my knees, breath shaking in the cold night air. The murmurs around me grew louder, sharper.
"Maybe she's not meant to lead."
"She's too human."
"Perhaps the Moon Goddess didn't bless her."
Someone stepped forward — Elder Thom — bowing his head respectfully to my father.
"Alpha… perhaps we should continue this another night."
My father didn't answer.
He didn't look at me.
He only turned and walked away.
That moment carved itself into my bones, into the deepest part of my chest where the bruise never fully healed.
---
"Aria," Lucien's voice pulled me back to the present. His fingers tightened around my waist. "You're shaking."
I hadn't even realized.
"Just… thinking," I whispered.
"About your past?"
I hesitated.
He shifted closer, resting his forehead against the back of my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me everything. But you don't have to carry it alone either."
For a moment, I let myself breathe in the quiet of his words, the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart against my spine.
Because even though parts of me were still that girl kneeling under the unforgiving moon…
In his arms, just for now, she wasn't broken.
Just breathing.