Chapter 57: SUPERVISION
Aria's POV
The knock came early.
I was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on my stomach as the baby shifted restlessly. My body ached, my mind still stuck on everything we found in the archives.
Another knock. Firmer this time.
“Who is it?” I called, already knowing.
“It’s me.”
Caden.
My jaw tightened. “What do you want?”
“Open the door.”
I pushed myself up slowly and crossed the room, unlocking it before stepping back. He walked in without waiting, his expression neutral, controlled, like he was walking into a meeting instead of my room.
“What is it?” I asked, closing the door behind him.
He didn’t waste time. “My father insists I supervise your daily activities.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“To ensure you’re not… plotting,” he added, his tone flat.
A short laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “So what, you’re babysitting me now?”
“Essentially.”
I crossed my arms as much as my stomach allowed. “That’s not happening.”
His eyes met mine, steady. “It’s this or a locked room. Your choice.”
I stared at him. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
For a second, anger flared hot in my chest. “So I go from prisoner to… supervised prisoner? That’s your solution?”
“It’s the only one I can give you right now,” he said.
“Or the only one your father told you to give me.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “This keeps you out of a cell.”
“And under your control.”
“And alive,” he corrected.
That shut me up for half a second.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Fine. But don’t pretend this is about my safety.”
“I’m not pretending anything,” he said. “Get ready. You’re coming to breakfast.”
My stomach turned. “No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not walking into a room full of people who think I shouldn’t be here.”
“Too late,” he replied. “They already think that.”
I glared at him. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Get ready,” he repeated, turning toward the door. “I’ll wait.”
I didn’t argue again. Not because I agreed, but because I knew fighting him wouldn’t change anything. I grabbed a loose sweater, pulled it over my dress, and followed him out a minute later.
The walk to the dining hall was quiet, but not comfortable. I could feel him beside me, close enough to touch, but not touching. His presence was… constant. Heavy. Like something watching over me whether I wanted it or not.
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered as we turned the corner.
“Probably,” he said.
“But you’re still doing it.”
“Yes.”
“Because your father said so.”
His jaw ticked. “Because it keeps you where I can see you.”
I stopped walking for a second, thrown off. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” he said. “It’s supposed to keep you alive.”
I didn’t answer.
We reached the dining hall.
The moment we stepped inside, everything shifted.
Conversations slowed.
Eyes turned.
Whispers followed.
I felt it immediately—judgment, curiosity, hostility. It pressed in from all sides as Caden led me to a table in the center of the room.
“Sit,” he said quietly.
I sat.
He took the seat across from me.
First time we’d been like this.
Across a table.
In public.
I kept my eyes on the plate in front of me. Bread. Eggs. Meat. Food that suddenly looked impossible to swallow.
At the head table, Marcus sat like he owned the room. Beside him, Vivienne watched us, her posture perfect, her expression calm—except for the way her eyes burned when they landed on me.
“Eat,” Caden said under his breath.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
I picked at the edge of the bread. “Don’t pretend you care.”
“I don’t have to pretend,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Whether I understand it or not, my wolf cares.”
I stilled.
“And that’s enough to keep you alive,” he added.
I looked up at him slowly.
There was no softness in his face. No comfort. Just blunt truth.
I didn’t know if that was better or worse.
“Good to know I’m surviving on your wolf’s instincts,” I muttered.
“If that’s what it takes.”
Silence stretched between us as I forced myself to take a small bite. It felt like chewing sand under all the eyes on me.
“They’re all staring,” I said quietly.
“Let them.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I’ve been stared at my entire life.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“You belong here,” I said. “I don’t.”
His gaze didn’t leave mine. “You’re here. That’s enough.”
I almost laughed.
Before I could say anything, my eyes flicked to Marcus again. He was watching us.
Not hiding it.
Not pretending.
Just watching.
My stomach tightened.
“Your father threatened me,” I said suddenly, keeping my voice low.
Caden’s fork stopped mid-air.
“What?” he asked, his tone sharp.
“In the kitchen. Yesterday.”
His eyes locked onto mine.
“I don’t know what he’s planning,” Caden added, his voice lower now, rougher. “But he doesn’t get to decide what happens to you.”
I searched his face, looking for doubt.
There was some.
But there was something else too.
Something stronger.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked again.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, his gaze shifted past me.
I turned slightly.
Marcus was walking toward us.
My chest tightened instantly.
“Caden,” Marcus said, stopping beside the table. “A word.”
Caden didn’t move right away.
His eyes stayed on me for a second longer.
“Stay here,” he said quietly. “Don’t go anywhere alone.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
It was an order.
I swallowed. “I wasn’t planning to.”
He stood anyway.
Marcus’s gaze flicked between us, sharp, calculating. He saw it. Whatever this was.
And he didn’t like it.
“Now,” Marcus added.
Caden stepped away from the table, following him without another word.
I watched them go, my heart beating faster.
They didn’t go far.
Just far enough to talk without being overheard.
But not far enough that I couldn’t see.
Marcus leaned in slightly, his voice low—but not low enough.
“You’re getting too close to the rogue, son.”
Caden’s back stiffened.
“That’s a mistake.”