Chapter 49 49
ARIELLE'S POV
Holy shit.
Me and him?
Alone?
No. Absolutely not. That was a disaster waiting to happen, a perfect storm of awkwardness and intimidation. I couldn’t take those chances.
“No, Mandy, I can’t…”
“Hey, relax!” she said, her voice breezy. “He doesn’t bite. Well, not unless you’re a rogue, I guess. Look, I get it. You’re not totally comfortable with him. His whole… demeanor is a lot. It’s understandable. But it will be fine.”
“I can just wait till you return,” I insisted, desperation creeping into my whisper. “It’s only a day.”
“No, you should check the apartment out first,” she said, her tone turning practical. “I’m not coming back until Saturday night. You need to have moved in by then. You can’t just show up with your bags to a place you’ve never seen.”
I inhaled a shaky breath and asked the same, senseless question again, hoping for a different answer. “But do I really need to check it? I’m sure it will be… conducive. It’s a roof. That’s all I need.”
“Arielle,” she said, sounding like a patient teacher. “It’s necessary. It’s not like you’re staying for free. You’re paying rent. It’s like moving into a new apartment and not even looking at what you’re paying for. That’s not just naive; it’s not smart. What if there’s no hot water? Or the windows are broken?”
“But…” I trailed off, my argument dying. My gaze shifted to my father’s peaceful, sleeping face, as if he could offer a solution. He didn’t.
“Relax,” Mandy repeated, her voice softening. “Between you and me, he’s probably going to have someone else take you to see it anyway. His beta, or one of the Gammas. He’s a busy man. He won’t personally escort you to a cottage.”
That thought was a small relief. “Okay,” I mumbled, not convinced but out of excuses.
“Goodnight, dolphin. Get some sleep!”
“Goodnight.” I hung up, the phone feeling heavy in my hand. I was still pondering the awful prospect when the door opened softly.
My mother stood there, backlit by the hall light. She’d changed into a simple night robe, her hair down. She looked… tired. More than usual.
“You should retire to bed, Arielle,” she said, her voice not unkind, but firm. “Tomorrow will be long.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Mother,” I whispered, slipping past her out into the hallway.
I closed the door to my father’s room gently behind me and stood there for a moment in the lit, quiet corridor, leaning my forehead against the cool wood. I needed a second to collect myself.
Then I took a step away.
And I heard it.
A sound so faint, so utterly foreign in this house of stern silences and sharp commands, that it froze me mid-step. It was a muffled, choked sound. A gasp that hitched into something else.
My hearing, though I’m wolfless, has always been unnaturally sharp. It’s the one trait the Moon Goddess seemed to toss my way as a consolation prize—a human girl with ears that could pick up a whisper from three rooms away. And right now, they picked up the unmistakable sound coming from behind my father’s door.
Whimpers.
Soft, broken, barely-there sobs.
Mother was crying.
The shock of it was a physical blow. My hand flew to my mouth. I’d never heard her cry. Never seen her eyes do anything but glare, or assess, or go cold with disappointment. The idea of Luna Serena breaking down, even in the privacy of her comatose husband’s room, felt like witnessing a fundamental law of nature crack.
My first instinct was to push the door back open, to go to her. But before I could move, the door swung inward.
She stood there again, her face a flawless mask of composure. But her eyes… they were a little too bright. The skin around them looked slightly pinched. She definitely had a sharp enough sense to have caught that I was still lingering outside.
“Why are you still here?” she asked, her voice perfectly level, perfectly normal.
But I could tell. I could tell she’d just done everything in her power in those thirty seconds to rebuild her walls, to seem like she wasn’t falling apart barely a minute ago.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Just then, Quinta shuffled into view at the end of the hallway, her cane tapping softly. Saved by the old woman.
“Everything alright?” Quinta asked, her wise eyes missing nothing as they flicked between my stunned face and my mother’s carefully neutral one.
“Fine,” my mother said, the single word a dismissal. “Goodnight.” She turned and walked down the hall toward her own room, her back straight, leaving no trace of the vulnerability I’d just overheard.
I simply walked away in the opposite direction, my mind reeling. Quinta, with her unerring instinct for drama, followed me into my room. The second my door closed, I grabbed her gnarled hand.
“Quinta,” I whispered, pulling her further inside. “I think I just heard my mother sobbing. In Father’s room. Just now.”
“Oh,” she said, and the sound was not one of surprise, but of quiet acknowledgment.
“Yes! Can you believe that?”
She didn’t seem surprised at all. She just chuckled, the sound rattling in her old, saggy throat. It was almost enough to make me giggle with nervous relief. “Why wouldn’t I believe it? She’s still partly human, child. She still has emotions.”
“No, I mean… wait.” I peered at her. “Have you ever seen her cry before?”
Her smile faded, replaced by a look of deep, weary affection. “Your mother might look as hard and stiff as granite, but granite can still fracture under enough pressure. She feels things. Deeply.”
“You’ve told me that over and over,” I said, frustration leaking into my voice. “But whatever I witness is the exact opposite. She’s all ice and orders.”
“Well, she’s just good at being tough. She has mastered it. You know, I’m not surprised she learned it from the best.” Quinta winced a bit, rubbing her lower back.
“Here, sit,” I said, guiding her to sit on the edge of my bed. “Sorry, I had you standing. Where’s your cane, by the way? That’s your support system, old woman,” I chided gently.
She only laughed and patted my hand. “Left it by the kitchen stool. My legs are still good for a short stroll.” She looked at me, her eyes softening. “Your father, you see… he was actually the icy one before he met your mother.”
That got my full attention. “What?”
“Oh, yes. Cold as a winter river. Arrogant, too. His own mother left when he was a boy, and he decided not to need anyone after that. Had no one to rely on but me, and even then, he kept his distance. He built walls so high no one could scale them.” She paused, smiling at the memory. “Then he met Serena. They weren’t just fated mates; they were soul mates. Her love… it didn’t just melt his ice. It taught him how to build a fire inside it instead. She straightened his edges without breaking his strength.”