Chapter 15 15
I took a step back, then another, putting distance between me and the evidence of my colossal, humiliating mistake.
“Um, I think I need to leave now,” I said, my voice sounding strangely calm and far away.
Mandy rushed over, grabbing my arm. “No, don’t be scared of him! He’s not here.”
I turned, surprised she’d mistaken my utter, soul-crushing dread for simple fear. “I’m not,” I lied.
“Really?” She looked skeptical. “Almost everyone is.”
“What?”
She grabbed both my hands, her expression turning conspiratorial. “Come on, I’ll gist you about him. You need the full picture.” She started leading me away from the living room, toward a grand staircase. “The maid, Jia, is making these little pastries you’ll love. We’ll have some.”
“Mandy, I really should—”
She shouted towards a hallway we passed. “Hurry up, Jia! My friend is here! Bring the snacks upstairs!”
Before I could properly protest, she was tugging me up the wide, curving staircase. We entered a room at the end of the hall that was pure, chaotic Mandy—suitcases still half-open, colorful clothes spilling out, a collection of weird trinkets already on the windowsill. It was a jarring contrast to the sterile perfection of the rest of the house.
She pushed me down onto a plush velvet couch and plopped down beside me, tucking her legs underneath her. “Okay,” she began, her eyes wide. “So, Uncle Aeson. He, like, lives in solitude. Rules this whole pack like a ghost. You rarely see him, but you always feel like he’s watching, you know?”
I could only nod, my throat tight. My mind was screaming. A ghost. A ghost I French-kissed in the bar.
“He’s ruthless, too,” she continued, lowering her voice. “Mom told me stories. How other Alphas actively avoid him. She said he’s become… infamous over the last fifteen years. Done things that make even the tough packs nervous.”
I gulped, the sound audible. “I see.”
She peered at me. “Haven’t you ever heard about him? The Shadow Alpha of Dead Moon? It’s kind of a big deal.”
I shook my head, the motion stiff. “No. I’ve not even seen him.” The lie tasted like ash. I’ve seen him. I’ve tasted him.
Her words echoed in my hollow head. Infamous. Ruthless. A ghost. It all made a horrible, terrifying sense. That’s why everyone at the bar had melted away. That’s why his cold stare had felt like a death sentence. He wasn’t just some intense, middle-aged guy. He was a predator at the top of the food chain, and I’d poked him with a stick.
I must have zoned out, because Mandy tapped my knee. “Hey. What’s wrong? You’ve gone all pale.”
“Nothing,” I said, the word automatic. I tried to stand up, my legs feeling like jelly. “I just really need to go now, Mandy.”
I attempted to get up, but she grabbed my wrist. “No, relax! He’s not even returning today, so don’t be scared. I think he’ll be away for a couple of days, at least.”
A flicker of desperate hope. “Oh, really?”
“Yes! His Beta said he wouldn’t be back tonight. I don’t know if he goes off to fight his demons or what. He just… wanders. Anyway, you don’t need to worry about running into him.”
I looked at her earnest, worried face. What could I possibly tell her? Hey, bestie, funny story. Last night, after catching my boyfriend cheating, I planted one on a random terrifying stranger. Turns out, it was your infamous, ruthless, ghost-alpha uncle, and I called him ‘Daddy’ to my ex’s face. Awkward, right?
No. It was too humiliating. Too insane. I gulped, my mouth dry as sand. “Um, can I get some water?”
“I’ll ask Jia to bring some up!”
“No,” I said, maybe too quickly. I needed a minute alone, to breathe, to think. “I’ll do it myself.” I stood up, my bag still slung across my chest.
As I turned, Mandy reached out and deftly hooked the strap, pulling the whole bag off me. “Drop your bag, then. I don’t trust you. You might just bolt back to your pack, lock yourself in your room, and cry over that damn Logan. I won’t let that happen today.” She hugged my bag to her chest like a hostage.
I managed a weak, strained smile. “Fine. Jailer.”
I left the room, the door clicking shut behind me, and leaned against the cool wall of the hallway for a second, closing my eyes. The silence of the huge house pressed in on me. I found my way downstairs to the sleek, modern kitchen. It was empty. I poured a glass of water from a pitcher, the ice clinking loudly in the stillness.
Walking back, glass in hand, I didn’t head straight for the stairs. I stopped in the middle of the vast, empty foyer, slipping into thought. My fingers were wrapped so tight around the cool glass I couldn’t even feel it. Logan’s betrayal, my father’s silence, my mother’s disappointment, the stranger’s—Aeson’s—eyes… it all swirled together into a suffocating fog.
I shut my eyes hard, shaking my head as if to physically dislodge the nasty thoughts. Get a grip, Arielle.
I walked forward, my soft shoes silent on the marble. I was almost at the bottom step when I halted.
A strange noise.
It was faint, a sort of… scuff-tap. My eyes darted instinctively to the arched entrance of the formal dining area, off to the left of the foyer. It had seemed to come from there.
Was someone there? Jia, maybe?
But then, everything went eerily quiet. The kind of quiet that feels heavier than noise. The hair on the back of my neck prickled to attention. My heart gave a single, hard thump against my ribs.
I spun around, my nerves frayed to ribbons.
Something dark and fast-moving—a shape, maybe a large raven or a shadow from a passing cloud—swooped past the high window above the door. The sudden movement, coupled with my already sky-high tension, was too much.
I gasped, jumping in fright. My hand jerked. The glass of water slipped from my fingers, shattering on the marble floor with an explosive crash. I stumbled backward, my foot hitting the slick spill, my arms pinwheeling as I tried desperately not to fall onto the broken shards.
A strong hand shot out from behind me, closing around my waist with an iron grip. It yanked me back, clean off my feet, and pulled me hard against something solid and unyielding.
My own hands flew out, bracing myself, and hit what felt like a wall of warm, finely woven wool over rock-hard muscle.
I lifted my gaze, my breath coming in ragged pants.
My lips parted.
And I found myself staring straight into a pair of unforgettable, cold, assessing hazel eyes. A streak of silver-grey fell over a forehead of sculpted, severe angles.
He looked down at me, his expression utterly impassive, but I could have sworn I felt the ghost of a smile, something invisible and knowing, in the air between us.
Then the full, horrifying familiarity of that face hit me.
My jaw dropped.
The stranger.