Chapter 103

Aria

The pack house felt different when Darren wasn’t around. Quieter, yes, but there was something else—something heavier that settled in the empty spaces where his presence should’ve been.

I wasn’t sure if I could get used to it. And with Wendy busy making the rounds in the village and Lucas off playing, I felt like the silence was suffocating.

At first, I tried to read a book in the living room. But I couldn’t seem to focus on the words, not with so many thoughts swirling around my head.

Of course, my head was full of thoughts of Darren and his indecisiveness. But it wasn’t just that.

Michael. Darren’s sister’s husband.

Wendy had said that he was killed in a mugging that may not have been random at all. She’d implied that he may have been targeted, simply for being a human married to a werewolf. And she had also implied that if I stayed with Darren, then that might also be my fate.

Or something like it.

I wandered the halls for a while, trailing my fingers along the smooth walls as I thought. Was that truly why Darren was so hesitant to be with me, even though we had such intense feelings for one another?

Was he worried that I would meet the same fate as Michael?

And was that what Tracy had meant when she had said that we would meet a ‘tragic end’?

The very thought made me shiver, but I kept walking. I couldn’t bring myself to sit still.

Eventually, my aimless wandering brought me to the uppermost floor, the one I’d hardly spent any time on yet. Darren’s room—our room—was just below this level, but I’d never had a reason to venture up these last few steps until now.

I paused at the top of the landing, glancing down the long hallway stretching out ahead of me. The doors up here were older, their frames dark with age, and the sconces lining the walls flickered softly with the low burn of firelight.

I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for, if anything. There were no guards up here, so maybe I was just craving some solitude and a chance to clear my head without their hateful gazes fixed on me.

Halfway down the hall, I stopped in front of a door that looked no different than the rest, save for the faint engraving of a small crescent moon just above the handle. There was something written on the curve of the moon, and I furrowed my brow, leaning in to get a better look.

“Emilia.”

Darren’s sister’s room…

I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting Wendy to materialize and gently scold me for snooping where I didn’t belong, but the hallway remained empty. Only the soft sound of the wind whistling through the eaves outside met my ears.

The door creaked softly as I pushed it open.

The air inside was colder than the rest of the house. Not by much, but just enough to make me rub at my arms as I stepped over the threshold. Dust motes danced lazily in the slants of light spilling through the tall, narrow window across the room, and the scent of old wood and lavender lingered faintly beneath the chill.

The room was still furnished. The bed was neatly made, the soft patchwork quilt tucked carefully at the corners. A few stuffed animals sat along the windowsill, slightly faded from the sunlight but otherwise untouched.

I stepped further inside, my footsteps muffled against the thick rug beneath my feet. Pictures lined the dresser across from the bed, and I found myself drawn toward them before I could think better of it.

Most of them were of Darren and Emilia, unmistakably siblings with their matching dark hair and those mismatched eyes. I almost laughed at the thought of how I’d once mistakenly assumed they were lovers.

In one photo, Emilia stood with her arm slung around Darren’s neck, grinning from ear to ear. Darren’s face was scrunched up, one hand lifted to hide his face. But even with most of his face obstructed, he looked younger. Softer.

They looked happy.

My gaze drifted lower, to the small jewelry box resting beside the photos. I brushed my fingers along the edge of it, smiling faintly at the worn surface.

I shouldn’t be in here, I knew that. But it felt like stepping into a frozen piece of Darren’s life, one that he had quietly locked away and left untouched.

That was when I felt it—a faint shift beneath my shoe. One of the floorboards nudged ever so slightly under the weight of my foot.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I crouched down to palpate my fingers across the wood. It was loose, and when I gently rapped my knuckles against the board, it sounded hollow underneath. There was a small notch on one side, smoothed over from years of fingers brushing against it.

Sliding one finger beneath the notch, I pried the loose board up and set it gently aside. Just as I thought, there was something hidden inside: a small, leather-bound book.

Frowning, I picked it up and flipped open the cover. “Property of Emilia,” it read in looping handwriting. “Darren, if you’re reading this, KEEP OUT!”

I hesitated, my fingers brushing across the words. I knew I shouldn’t do what I was about to do. I already felt like I had crossed some unspoken boundary just by stepping inside this room.

But something gnawed at me, that same pull that had led me to this room in the first place. Before I could talk myself out of it, I carefully opened the diary and began to flip through the pages.

The first few entries were lighthearted, filled with musings about school, friends, and Darren’s terrible taste in music. I tried not to read too much, not wanting to violate Emilia’s privacy by reading about every schoolyard crush.

But as I skimmed further, the words grew heavier. Darker.

And then I saw his name.

Charles.

My stomach dropped as I read the brief entry.

“I believe that Charles, my father’s Beta, had something to do with Michael’s death… But Father won’t listen to me, and just keeps telling me that Charles would have no connection to the mugging—that humans are simply evil creatures who kill each other all the time for no reason…”

The diary trembled slightly in my hands as I reread the words, disbelief curdling into something colder in my stomach.

“No, I know Charles had something to do with it,” the entry continued. “I never trusted him. I wish Father would listen. I wish someone would listen…”

I felt like I was going to be sick. Charles had something to do with it. Emilia had known. She had tried to tell someone. Tried to warn her father, and by the sound of it, she had been ignored.

I snapped the diary shut, my pulse thudding heavily in my ears. I needed to take this to Darren, tell him the truth.

Suddenly, just as I was about to tuck the journal under my arm and hurry away, a soft creak sounded behind the closed door. My heart leapt into my throat, and I just barely had enough time to stuff the journal back into the hidden compartment and slide the floorboard back on top before the door creaked open.

I turned sharply, leaping to my feet.

Charles stood in the doorway, his dark eyes locked onto mine. The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Find something interesting?” he purred.

I took a step backwards, only to be met with the cold wood of the dresser behind me. The room suddenly felt smaller now, colder. Panic gripped my chest, and I knew I had made a mistake.

A big one.

“I was just—”

Before I could finish, Charles stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him, casting the room into darkness.