Chapter 22 Morning Chaos
ARYA
I was awoken by shouting downstairs. Angry voices, one of which I recognized immediately. Jaime.
I threw on clothes with speed I didn’t know I possessed before I was even fully awake and ran down to find chaos in Cyrus’s foyer.
Jaime stood there, flanked by two of his pack warriors, facing off against Cyrus’s people. He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept, his eyes wild when they landed on me.
“There you are.” Relief and anger warred in his expression. “We need to talk. Now!”
“I don’t think—” Cyrus started.
“She’s still my WIFE,” Jaime snarled. “I have the right to speak with her.”
“Actually, you don’t.” A new voice spoke from behind him, sending shivers skating down my spine.
Luca stepped through the door, Caspian at his side, both of them radiating enough power to make Jaime’s warriors instinctively step back.
“Your Majesty.” Jaime bowed stiffly. “This is pack business—”
“This is MY business.” Luca moved past him like he was furniture, coming to stand beside me. The bond hummed with satisfaction at his proximity. “Arya is under my protection now.”
“On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that she’s my mate.” Luca said it calmly, like he was commenting on the weather.
The room went silent.
Jaime’s face went white, then red. “No. That’s not—she’s MY wife!”
“A wife you planned to divorce.” Luca’s voice was cold. “A wife you humiliated, ignored, and allowed your pack to mistreat. Or should I continue listing your failures?”
I couldn’t ignore the thrill that shot through me at his words. Someone finally standing up for me. Defending me. It was all I’ve ever wanted from Jaime, and he never gave me. Watching him stuttering, unable to form words? Very satisfying.
“You don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly.” Luca pulled a folder from Caspian’s hands. “These are divorce papers. Sign them.”
“No.”
“I don’t remember that being a question.” Power rolled off Luca in waves. “Sign them, Alpha Jaime. Dissolve this mockery of a marriage. Or I’ll dissolve your pack’s treaty with the High Court.”
Jaime’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that. That treaty protects us—”
“From Lycan incursions, yes. Quite convenient for a border pack like yours.” Luca smiled without warmth. “It would be unfortunate if you suddenly found yourselves… vulnerable.”
It was a blatant threat. Political blackmail of the highest order.
And I should have been appalled. Instead, I felt a savage satisfaction watching Jaime squirm.
“Arya,” Jaime turned to me, desperation in his eyes. “You can’t want this. Tell him. Tell him you don’t want to be claimed by a Lycan King.”
“What I want,” I said clearly, “is to never see you again. Sign the papers, Jaime.”
“But—”
“SIGN THEM.” My voice carried power now, my newly emerged wolf giving weight to the words. “You wanted to be rid of me. Here’s your chance. Take it.”
Jaime stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time. “Who are you?”
“Someone who’s done being who you wanted me to be.” I stepped closer to Luca. We were still not touching, but we stood close enough to make a point. “Sign the papers. Let me go. It’s what you wanted anyway.”
For a moment, I thought he’d refuse. Thought he’d fight this out of pure spite. His shoulders sagged in defeat.
“Fine.” He grabbed the pen Caspian offered. “Where?”
“Every page marked with an X,” Caspian instructed.
Jaime signed mechanically, his hand shaking slightly. When he finished, he looked up at me one last time.
“For what it’s worth… I’m sorry. For all of it.”
The apology came five years too late.
“So am I,” I said quietly. “Sorry I wasted so much time thinking you’d change.”
He flinched. Then, without another word, he turned and left, his warriors trailing behind him.
I watched him go, feeling… nothing. No regret, no satisfaction, just a strange emptiness where all that pain used to be.
“It’s done.” Luca’s hand touched my lower back. It was light, reassuring. “You’re free.”
Free.
I’d been freed from one bond only to be caught in another.
But this time, this time I’d make sure it was on my terms.
I turned to face the man who could be my new salvation or new prison. “Three months,” I reminded him. “You promised.”
“And I keep my promises.” He held out his hand. “Ready to start your new life, little wolf?”
I looked at that outstretched hand for a long moment.
Then, taking a deep breath, I placed my hand in his.
“Ready or not,” I said.
His fingers closed around mine, warm and solid and undeniably possessive. Spars shot through every part of my body.
“That’s my mate,” he murmured, soft enough only I could hear.
And despite everything, despite my fear and my history and my desperate need for independence, a small part of me is thrilled at those words.
At being wanted. Being claimed. Being seen. Even if it terrified me.
No, especially because it terrified me. Because fear meant it mattered.
And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what I needed.