Chapter 108 Rowan Hears Her Heart Cry
Chapter 108 Rowan Hears Her Heart Cry
The pain did not stay contained.
Aria tried to force it down, to lock it behind the wall she had built over the years of living with the curse. She straightened, breath sharp and controlled, silver cracks fading faintly beneath her skin as she exerted sheer Alpha will against it.
But the bond did not respect walls.
It pulsed once—hard.
And Rowan felt everything.
He gasped as if someone had driven a blade straight through his ribs. His hands flew to his chest, fingers digging into fabric, into skin, searching for a wound that wasn’t there.
“What—” he choked.
The pain was wrong. Not physical. Not fully.
It was cold and burning at the same time, like ice sinking into muscle and igniting from within. It crawled through his veins, not gold, not his power—but hers.
“Aria,” he whispered, staggering back a step. “What is that?”
She froze.
Her eyes snapped to him, alarm flashing across her face.
Rowan bent forward slightly, breath shaking. The golden glow beneath his skin flickered erratically as the silver sensation tore through him in waves.
It wasn’t just pain.
It was grief.
Rage.
Self-blame so sharp it cut.
He felt it as if it lived in his own chest.
“Stop,” Aria said quickly, stepping toward him. “Block it. You don’t need to feel this.”
“I can’t,” Rowan breathed. “It’s— it’s inside me.”
The bond flared violently between them, silver and gold threads tightening until it felt like they were breathing through the same lungs.
Rowan dropped to one knee.
His heart pounded out of rhythm, matching hers. Too fast. Too strained. He could hear it clearly now, the cadence of her pulse echoing through the connection like a distant drum growing louder.
It wasn’t just beating.
It was crying.
“You’re in pain,” he said hoarsely, clutching his chest harder. “You’ve been in pain since the battlefield.”
Aria’s jaw tightened.
“That’s not your concern.”
Rowan looked up at her, disbelief cutting through the haze.
“How is it not?” he demanded, voice breaking. “I can feel it. Every time you breathe, it burns.”
Silver flickered faintly at her throat again, cracks trying to surface.
She turned away sharply.
“It’s my curse,” she said. “It has nothing to do with you.”
The bond pulsed again.
Rowan’s body jerked with the force of it.
“That’s a lie,” he rasped. “It reacts when I get close. It surges when I’m angry. It hurts when I hurt.”
Aria’s hands curled into fists.
“Enough,” she said, but there was no real force behind it.
Rowan forced himself to stand despite the trembling in his legs. He stepped closer, ignoring the way the air between them tightened dangerously.
“Tell me what it’s doing to you,” he pleaded. “Don’t shut me out.”
Aria’s control slipped.
The silver cracks surged upward again, this time faster, branching along her neck like fractures racing through ice. She hissed in pain, grabbing the edge of the broken doorframe to steady herself.
Rowan felt the spike like lightning.
He cried out, doubling over, hands pressed to his sternum as if trying to hold his heart in place.
“Stop hiding it,” he begged, voice raw. “I can feel it anyway.”
Aria’s breathing grew ragged.
She had always carried the curse alone.
It was easier that way.
Contained.
Isolated.
Now, through Rowan, it was exposed.
Shared.
And that terrified her more than the pain itself.
“You don’t understand,” she said tightly. “If you keep opening yourself to it, it will tear you apart.”
“Then let it,” Rowan shot back fiercely. “If it’s tearing you apart already, I’d rather feel it with you than watch you bleed in silence.”
The words struck deeper than he knew.
Aria stared at him, something shifting behind her eyes.
“You think this is noble?” she asked quietly. “You think sharing the damage makes it lighter?”
Rowan stepped closer still, trembling but unyielding.
“No,” he said. “I think pretending it doesn’t exist makes it worse.”
Silence fell between them.
The bond thrummed, unstable but unbroken.
Rowan’s breathing steadied slightly as he focused on her, pushing past the pain flooding his chest. He could distinguish it now—her pulse, her curse, her fury at herself for Lila, for the battlefield, for every misstep she believed she had made.
“You blame yourself,” he said softly.
Aria’s eyes flashed.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“It’s not,” Rowan insisted. “It’s feeding it.”
The silver cracks pulsed brighter at her throat, reacting to the truth in his voice.
Rowan swallowed hard.
“And I’m part of it,” he added quietly. “The reason it’s changing.”
Aria’s control snapped.
“Yes!” she shouted suddenly, voice echoing against the stone walls. “You are!”
The words hung in the air like a strike.
Rowan froze.
Aria’s chest rose and fell sharply as the curse flared in full, silver light racing visibly along her neck and jaw. The cracks no longer subtle—they were undeniable, spreading like living lightning beneath her skin.
“YOU are the reason my curse is awakening!” she roared.
The confession tore itself free, raw and unfiltered.
The room fell utterly still.
Rowan stared at her as if she had struck him.
Aria’s breath trembled, but she did not take the words back.
“Since the day you awakened,” she continued, voice shaking with fury and fear, “it has not been stable. It reacts to your presence. It fights your power. It burns hotter every time our bond tightens.”
Rowan’s hands dropped slowly from his chest.
The pain did not leave.
But something else settled more heavily in its place.
“I’m making it worse,” he whispered.
Aria’s jaw clenched.
“Yes,” she said.
The honesty was brutal.
Necessary.
“And I don’t know if it’s because you weaken it,” she added, voice lowering, “or because you threaten it.”
Rowan’s golden veins flickered faintly beneath his skin.
“Then push me away,” he said quietly. “If I’m the trigger.”
The bond pulsed sharply in protest.
Aria’s expression twisted.
“You think I haven’t tried?” she demanded. “You think distance solved anything?”
Rowan had no answer.
The silver cracks glowed brighter for a moment longer—then slowly, painfully, began to recede.
Not gone.
Contained.
Aria closed her eyes, forcing her breathing steady.
When she opened them again, the fury had cooled into something more dangerous.
Resolve.
“This isn’t random,” she said quietly. “It’s evolving.”
Rowan watched her carefully.
“Then we face it,” he said, voice steadier now despite everything. “Together.”
Aria did not respond immediately.
But she did not step away either.
The bond steadied between them—not calm, not peaceful—but aligned.
For now.
And deep within her chest, beneath the fading silver cracks, the curse stirred uneasily.
It had been named.
And once named—
It could no longer hide.