Chapter 40 40
ARIELLE'S POV
The sound of the doorbell was still echoing in my skull. Panic, pure and unthinking, propelled me out of my room. I didn’t walk; I rushed down the stairs, taking them two at a time, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. I was anticipating the worst—Logan’s smug face on the doorstep, my mother’s icy confusion turning to understanding, then to fury.
Sheila was right behind me, her footsteps a rapid patter. “Ari, wait! Just let me handle him!”
I didn’t listen. I skidded into the grand foyer, almost out of breath from the sprint, and then lost my breath completely at the sight before me.
It wasn’t Logan.
A uniformed delivery man was at the door, holding out a small, flat cardboard box. My mother stood there, accepting it with a curt nod. She wasn’t looking angry or confused. She looked… businesslike. Bored, even.
My heart, which had been racing, seemed to stutter to a stop, then kick into an even more frantic rhythm. What could that be?
Sheila came to a halt beside me, her own breathing ragged. We exchanged a single, wide-eyed look. The air was thick with our shared, unspoken dread.
Mother dismissed the delivery man and closed the door. She turned, the box in her hands, her gaze dropping to it as she walked back into the foyer. She didn’t seem to notice us standing there, frozen like statues.
Then it struck me, a terrible, logical conclusion. It wasn’t Logan at the door, but he’d sent something. A letter. Proof. Photos, maybe. He’d said he wanted to talk, and when I’d refused, he’d decided to force my hand. To expose everything. My secret, our relationship, all of it, delivered right to my mother’s hands in a neat little box.
No, no, no!
A desperate, animal impulse took over. I couldn’t let her open it. I rushed forward, my hand shooting out to grab the box from her grasp. “Wait!”
My fingers closed around the cardboard corner. She didn’t let go. Her head snapped up, her eyes flicking from the box to my face, a look of pure, stunned confusion on her features. “Arielle? What are you doing?”
I wanted to force a calm smile, to play it off, but my face felt like it was made of stone. The words tumbled out, shaky and too fast. “Um, I… I think it’s mine. The parcel. I’ve been expecting… something.”
She squinted at me, her grip tightening. “No,” she said, her voice firm, final. “It’s addressed to me. The Luna.” With a sharp tug, she pulled the box completely away from my trembling hand.
She walked past me, toward the small table by the wall where she usually sorted the day’s mail. I turned slowly, my legs feeling like water, and watched in horror as she took a letter opener from a drawer and slit the tape.
She reached in and pulled out… photos. A stack of them.
My gaze immediately dropped to the floor. I couldn’t look. I wanted the polished marble to crack open and swallow me whole. This was it. The end. She would see me with him. Laughing, holding hands, maybe the one from that picnic where he’d kissed my cheek…
I heard a low, rumbling growl. It wasn’t loud, but it vibrated through the foyer, a sound of pure, predatory fury.
I looked up. She was staring at the top photo, her face a mask of utter rage. She strode back to me in three swift steps and thrust the pictures right under my nose. “What nonsense is this?”
My eyes, against my will, flickered down. I braced myself to see my own smiling face, my secrets laid bare.
And they were.
But they weren't photos of a field.
The top picture was Logan and me, tucked in our secret booth at the back of the diner. My head was thrown back, laughing at something he’d said, his arm slung casually over my shoulders. We looked happy. Intimate. The second was us by the old mill, his hand brushing hair from my face. Proof. Tangible, damning proof of every lie I’d told her.
The world tilted. “Mother, I…” The words were a choked whisper, an admission before I could even form a denial.
SMACK.
The slap came so fast I didn’t even see her hand move. The sound was shockingly loud in the quiet space. The force of it snapped my head to the side. My ear rang. My cheek bloomed with a fiery, shocking pain. My ear rang, a high-pitched whine drowning out everything else. I stumbled, my legs buckling, and only sheer will kept me from collapsing to the floor, the photos scattering around me like fallen leaves. Behind me, I heard Sheila gasp, a sharp intake of breath.
“How dare you?!” my mother roared, her voice not cold now, but scalding hot. “You and this… this boy?!”
Tears, born from pain and sheer, overwhelming shock, stung my eyes. I could barely look at her through the blur. But it seemed like she was staring at the photos, her mind racing, fitting pieces together that didn’t exist.
“So… you were in a secret relationship? You betrayed my trust?” Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper. Her hand shot out again, but this time it wasn’t to slap. She grabbed the front of my shirt, her fingers digging into the fabric and the skin beneath with a strength that was purely wolf. Her claws weren’t out, but I could feel the sharp points of her nails threatening to break through. I shrieked—a short, involuntary sound of pain and fear. I looked into her eyes and saw no logic, no reason. Only a firestorm of anger.
“I gave you freedom!” she snarled, shaking me once, hard. My teeth rattled. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt! I let you do as you pleased, believing you would never do the one thing I asked you not to! And you had the guts to date someone from the Nightshade Pack? Not just anyone, but the Alpha’s son?”
She let me go with a shove that sent me staggering backward. I tripped over my own feet and landed hard on my backside on the cold floor, the impact jarring up my spine.
The reality of her words finally sank in. She knew he wasn’t just from a forbidden pack, but the Alpha’s heir. The knowledge was a cold, sickening weight in my stomach.
“Are you so stupid? So obstinate?” she bawled, towering over me. Then she was on me again, grabbing my arms and shaking me so vehemently my vision blurred. “Tell me, Arielle! Is this really true?!”