Chapter 22 The Man by the Playground
Levi:
Mid-morning sunlight turns the city into something almost gentle.
Seattle’s parks always smell of wet pine and warm metal swings, the mix of childhood and rain.
I shouldn’t be here.
I know it the second I see them.
Aurora sits on a bench near the playground fence, coffee in hand, her hair pulled into a loose braid that keeps slipping over one shoulder. She looks tired but radiant. The kind of tired that comes from love, not defeat.
Beside her, Aria and Lior chase a ball across the grass, laughter bright enough to make the whole street pause.
And my heart to stop in awe.
I stay in the shade of the trees, cap pulled low, trying not to breathe too deeply.
But the scent of them reaches me anyway, soft wildflowers, warm sunlight, the faint spark of power that doesn’t belong in this world.
It hits harder than any wound.
Koda hums inside me. Ours.
“Quiet,” I mutter. “They don’t know me.”
They should.
“They can’t. Not yet, but they will soon.”
Still, my eyes follow them. Lior trips over his own feet, pops back up, dusts his knees, and shouts something that makes Aria laugh. She runs toward him, ponytail flying, eyes gold-green like sunlight on glass.
That shade, my mother’s eyes.
I grip the fence until the metal creaks.
Aurora looks up at the sound, and for one terrifying second, her gaze sweeps directly across me.
I freeze.
The world narrows to that single heartbeat.
She doesn’t recognize me, or maybe she does, and chooses not to.
Her expression flickers, confusion ghosting across her face. Her hand moves unconsciously to her collarbone, fingers brushing the spot where my mark is.
Then she blinks, shakes her head, and looks back at the twins.
I exhale. The breath feels like it’s been waiting four years to leave my lungs.
A small shape breaks away from the playground.
Lior runs full speed towards the fence, the ball rolling ahead of him. It bounces once, twice, right to my feet.
I crouch, catch it before it hits the curb.
He stops short, eyes wide. Up close, he’s a mirror I didn’t know I needed; same eyes, same dark hair, same stubborn chin.
“Hey there, buddy,” I say softly. “You dropped this.”
He grins, all tooth and sunshine. “Thank you!”
Aurora’s voice rings out, sharp but loving. “Lior! Stay where I can see you!”
I hold out the ball. He takes it, tiny fingers brushing mine. The spark that jumps between us is small but real. A pulse that travels straight to the mark on my chest.
He tilts his head. “You smell like the Rain man.”
My heart stops. “What did you say?”
He shrugs. “That’s what Aria calls you. The rain man who looks sad and keeps the monsters away.”
I manage a smile that feels fragile. “Sounds like she's really smart.”
“She says you watch over us,” he adds. “Is that true?”
Children, so innocent, so cruelly honest.
Our pups. Koda hums in satisfaction
“Maybe,” I whisper. “But don’t tell anyone, okay?”
"Not even mom?" He asks innocently, looking up at me.
I nod solemnly, "Not yet, it's our little secret."
He grins, and it's the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.
Then, clutching the ball to his chest, he extends his hand as if to shake it, asking me, “Promise.”
I take it. The rush of feelings I get on the contract is not anything I have ever experienced. My throat closes up, unable to form words, I simply nod.
He doesn't wait and runs back to his sister.
Aurora’s eyes follow him, then flicker toward me again.
This time, sharp, shocked. Her coffee cup slips from her hand, hitting the ground with a soft thud.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves.
Then she gathers herself, pulls the twins close, whispers something I can’t hear.
I step back into the shadow.
Her head snaps up.
Our eyes meet.
She doesn’t speak, doesn’t shout. Just looks, hurt, disbelief, fury.
Then she turns away, moving the children towards the exit.
Koda whines low. She saw us.
“I know.”
She will not forgive you.
“I don’t need forgiveness.” I drag a hand through my hair, watching the curve of her shoulders as she disappears down the path. “I just need her and the kids to be safe.”
I wait until their taxi pulls away before I move.
The world seems quieter now. Even the birds hold their breath.
Lucas' voice crackles through my earpiece. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Show yourself.”
I stare at the empty street where the cab vanished. “It wasn’t planned.”
“Nothing ever is with you. How bad?”
“She saw me.”
A groan. “Perfect. That’s exactly what we needed, a terrified Luna who already thinks you’re haunting her.”
“She’s not terrified.”
“You sure? Because the Council isn’t the only problem anymore. Her human world will start asking questions now. They’ll smell the story, and you know what happens when humans start digging.”
I don’t answer. The silence stretches until he sighs again.
“Just tell me you’re not going near her place tonight.”
“I’m not.”
Liar, Koda whispers.
Aurora
The moment the cab door shuts, my hands start shaking.
He was there.
Not a dream, not a memory. Flesh, breath, heartbeat. Levi Kingston, standing by the playground fence like he belonged in the sunlight.
The twins chatter in the backseat, oblivious. I can’t look at them. I can still feel the electricity from his presence buzzing under my skin, the bond I pretended didn’t exist humming like it’s just woken up.
“Mommy, are you mad?” Aria asks.
“No, sweetheart.” My voice sounds strange to my own ears. “Just tired.”
But that’s a lie.
I’m not tired. I’m falling apart.
Because if he’s here, it means everything I built is about to collapse.
When we reach home, I bolt the door, check the windows twice. The mark under my collarbone burns faintly, as if mocking me.
My phone vibrates on the table.
Unknown Number: I didn’t mean to scare you.
I stare at the words until my vision blurs.
Then I type back,
You already did.
But I don’t hit send.
Because part of me, the traitorous one, that still longs for him, doesn’t want to push him away.
And that’s what terrifies me most....