Chapter 14 The Aftershock
Aurora:
The silence feels heavier than any argument could.
He is gone.
But the air still tastes like him.
The scent of pine and smoke lingers, clinging to the curtains, the couch, even the floor where he stood. The space feels smaller now, as if the walls themselves remember his voice.
My heartbeat still hasn’t settled. The mark beneath my collarbone pulses softly, stubborn as a bruise that refuses to fade.
I walk to the window and press my palm against the glass. The city looks ordinary again, washed in streetlight and rain. Cars drift by. Life keeps moving, but inside me everything has stopped.
“You wanted me to believe you were human.”
The words replay in my head, low and steady. What did he mean by that?
“You wanted to believe you could stay away.”
My answer follows like a ghost.
I wish I had not said it. I wish I had said more.
⸻
In the twins’ room, the small lamp throws golden circles across the walls. Aria is already half asleep, her stuffed fox tucked under her chin. Lior still fights the blanket, too restless for dreams.
“Mommy,” he mumbles, eyes half open. “Who was that man?”
I freeze. “A friend from work.” The lie tastes bitter.
“He smelled like the woods,” Lior says softly.
My pulse stumbles. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs, sleepy. “Like trees after rain. And something sharp. I liked it.”
I smooth his hair, forcing a smile. “Go to sleep, baby.”
As I watch them, my chest tightens. Their scent has always been faintly different. I thought it was just me, some mother’s instinct inventing things, but now I am not sure.
Both children toss and turn as dreams catch hold. Aria murmurs something about silver eyes and a big black wolf. Lior’s fingers twitch as if chasing something in his sleep.
I stay there until they are still again. The mark hums under my skin like it is listening to them.
⸻
The buzzer startles me. I almost drop my coffee.
When I open the door, Maggie is there, coat unbuttoned, hair a mess, eyes wide.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she says.
“Maybe I have.”
“Tell me it’s not another politician threatening to sue you.”
“Worse,” I mutter.
She studies me for a beat, then glances at the faint glow beneath my shirt. “That thing again?”
“It’s nothing,” I say too quickly.
Maggie frowns. “Nothing doesn’t usually light up your skin like a nightlight.”
I sigh, tired. “Please don’t start.”
“Fine.” She drops a grocery bag on the counter. “Then start eating. You look like heartbreak with caffeine.”
Her words sting more than she means them to. I pour us both coffee, trying to focus on the smell, the normal things, the safe things. But normal feels fragile, like glass in my hands.
Before she leaves, Maggie pauses at the door. “If you’re in trouble, don’t face it alone,” she says.
“I’m fine.”
“You always say that,” she murmurs, then disappears down the hall.
⸻
When the apartment is quiet again, I open my laptop. I type the one phrase I promised myself I never would.
Levi Kingston true identity.
The search results are clean. Too clean.
No birth records, no family, no personal details. Just headlines about Kingston Industries, charity galas, government contracts. But I have spent too many years chasing lies not to recognize a cover-up.
I dig deeper. Buried forums, half-broken archives, encrypted reports. The more I click, the stranger it gets, whispers about a Northern Pack, names that sound like myths, missing people near properties owned by the Council.
Finally, a grainy old photograph loads. A group of men in dark suits, standing outside a stone building. At first, it looks normal, until I zoom in.
Their eyes glow faint gold in the camera flash.
Levi stands among them.
My hand goes cold.
⸻
The laptop buzzes. A new message slides into the inbox.
No sender.
You were warned. He’s not who you think.
A second message follows seconds later.
Get the children out of the city.
The mark flares painfully. The lamp flickers. My throat goes dry.
I turn toward the window and freeze.
A shadow stands across the street, tall and still, almost blending with the rain-dark glass. For a second, I think it’s Levi. But there’s something off. The stance is too sharp. The stillness wrong.
My body moves before my mind catches up. I grab the curtain and yank it closed.
The glow under my skin pulses again, fast and urgent, like a heartbeat warning me to move.
⸻
I run to the twins’ room. They’re still asleep, tangled together. I kneel beside them, brushing a strand of hair from Aria’s face.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I whisper.
The air feels different now thicker, charged. Every sense is sharper. I can hear the hum of the streetlights outside, the rhythm of footsteps two floors down, even the faint tick of the clock on the wall.
For a moment, I think I’m imagining it. But the mark hums in sync with my heartbeat, steady and alive.
Something inside me wakes. Not fear. Something older. Instinct.
I stand, forcing my breathing to slow. If he thinks I’ll run, he doesn’t know me.
⸻
Back in the living room, I pick up my camera and slip it into my bag. The photo of those men with gold eyes still glows faintly on the laptop screen. I stare at it for a long time.
He said I wasn’t human anymore. I didn’t believe him.
Now I’m not sure what to believe.
I close the computer, turn off the lamp, and stand by the window again. The city stretches below, endless and cold.
Somewhere out there, Levi is watching the same skyline.
Somewhere, the people who want us dead are moving closer.
The wind shifts. Far away, a wolf howls.
The sound runs through me like fire and memory, the mark glowing once before settling.
I whisper into the dark, “You wanted me safe, Levi. Then you shouldn’t have come back.”
The light from the street catches the gold chain around my neck, the one that hides the faint shimmer beneath my skin.
I draw the curtain closed.
Behind me, the twins stir in their sleep, murmuring something soft and wordless. Their breathing matches the rhythm of the mark.
For the first time, I wonder if maybe they feel it too.