Chapter 14 14
A few hours later, I stood at the imposing gates of the Dead Moon Pack territory. It was my first time ever being there. The sentries gave me a once-over, their nostrils flaring slightly. I braced myself for the usual—the dismissive sniff, the barely concealed judgment in their eyes when they confirmed I had no wolf scent, just human. But it didn’t come. They just nodded, radioed something in, and opened the gate. Their looks were neutral, almost respectful. It was unsettling in a good way.
Mandy was waiting for me on the wide steps of a huge, modern house that had to be the packhouse. She was practically vibrating with impatience. As I approached, a Gamma stepped forward, his posture shifting to interrogate.
Mandy swooped in before he could speak, looping her arm through mine. “She’s with me! My friend. I vouched for her, remember?”
The Gamma gave a curt nod and stepped back.
“It’s so good to see you, Arielle,” Mandy said, pulling me up the steps and into a grand foyer that was all cool marble and sharp angles.
“Stop being dramatic, Mandy. We spoke on a video call, like, three hours ago.”
“That was digital! This is real!” she insisted, dragging me into a vast living room. It was stunning but stark, like a museum exhibit. She pushed me down onto a large, charcoal-gray sofa and then grabbed my face in both her hands, turning it left and right as if inspecting for damage. “My poor friend,” she cooed, her voice full of theatrical sorrow. Then she wrapped me in a tight, genuine hug. “First of all, I’m sorry that Punk cheated on you with that wretch. And I’m sorry I came into the city hours later. If not, if you had just called me last night, I would have appeared in that bar and shown him a taste of my kung fu skills.”
“Kung fu?” I pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were learning taekwondo, Mandy.”
She waved a hand. “I’ve acquired another skill. Versatility.”
“Whoa. Relax. Your uncle won’t need to place you on the war front if the pack suffers a crisis.”
“Whatever,” she grinned, plopping down beside me. Her smile faded into something more serious. “So, tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“About last night.”
I looked away, focusing on the minimalist lines of a side table. “I don’t want to talk about Logan anymore.”
“I’m not asking about the dog,” she said, nudging my shoulder. “I’m asking about the guy who played the role of your sugar daddy. Because I know you, dolphin. You wouldn’t just say that without having someone in mind to point to. You’re a terrible liar on the spot.”
I sighed. “I just… saw someone. Inside the bar.”
“Okay?” she pressed, scooting closer. “How did it go? What happened?”
The memory hit me then, not of the anger or the confrontation, but of the kiss itself. The shocking firmness of his lips, the way his hand had cupped the back of my head, the sheer, reckless strangeness of it that had sent a bolt of pure, unexpected sensation straight through me.
A tingle, warm and dangerous, skated down my spine. I felt my cheeks grow warm and I tightened my lips, shaking my head.
“Let’s just forget about it for now,” I said, my voice coming out a little breathless. I stood up abruptly, needing to move, to not have her keen eyes dissecting my expression.
I walked over to the massive stone hearth, which was cold and clean. My eyes drifted upward, drawn to a large, striking painting above it—abstract swirls of black and silver on a charcoal background.
“This looks beautiful,” I murmured, just to say something.
“Yeah, there’s probably more art like it around. This place is weirdly full of expensive, lonely things,” Mandy said from the sofa.
My gaze traveled from the painting down to the mantelpiece itself. It was mostly bare, except for a single, simple silver frame placed at the very end. The face in the photo was turned slightly away, but there was something about the angle of the jaw, the set of the shoulders…
It pulled me closer. I took two steps, leaned in.
And my breath caught in my throat.
The photo was a candid shot, black and white. The man wasn’t looking at the camera; he was looking off to the side, his expression severe, thoughtful. But there was no mistaking that sharp profile, those penetrating eyes, the air of quiet, terrifying intensity.
“This… he’s…” I trailed off, my heart starting to drum a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I looked back at Mandy, who had gotten up and was walking over to me.
“What?” she said, following my gaze. “Oh, that’s him. Finally, a photo of him is actually out. I thought he never had any around. Probably thinks they’re a security risk or something.”
“Wait…” My voice was barely a whisper. “He’s…?”
“My uncle,” Mandy said, picking up the silver frame and handing it to me like it was no big deal. “Aeson Goldwyn. The Shadow Alpha of this very pack, Dead Moon.”
The words didn’t just land. They dropped into the pit of my stomach like stones.
The stranger. The man whose lips I’d crashed mine onto in a fit of furious, performative rebellion. The one who’d caged me against a wall and asked for a better offer.
He was Mandy’s uncle.
Aeson.
The photo frame felt suddenly hot in my hands. I almost dropped it. The world seemed to tilt on its axis for a second.
Aeson Goldwyn.
Shadow Alpha.
Mandy’s uncle.
The facts collided in my head, creating a deafening crash. I felt a wave of lightheadedness, a near-panic attack squeezing my lungs, but I forced it down.
I carefully placed the frame back on the mantel, my movements deliberate, as if handling a live bomb.