Chapter 46

Darren

I felt like a fool.

More than that, really. A moron, a pawn—an outright idiot. And what burned worse than the shame itself was the realization that I had let it go on for so long.

For years, I had been in the palm of Sarah’s hand, letting her spin her little web of manipulations, every lie laced with poison in little pill-sized doses.

And I had willingly swallowed each and every one.

Because I had stupidly believed her. I’d believed her ridiculous claims about nursing me back to health when I was a pup, believed that those green eyes of hers belonged to the little girl who had saved my life. When she had come around the corner and confessed, I hadn’t questioned it.

I chalked up the inconsistencies to time, to age. A little less sparkle in her gaze? The green hue slightly off? Her hair platinum blonde instead of chestnut brown? Eyes can change. Hair can be dyed or bleached.

I told myself that Sarah had been through a lot, that she’d been bullied ruthlessly for years by her own adoptive sister and that that sort of thing can really affect a person—especially their appearance.

But all this time, I had ignored what was right in front of me. I hadn’t wanted to admit that I’d fallen for the easy lie, a twisted version of reality that made Sarah the hero who had saved me.

Even when all of the evidence was stacked against her, I had blindly believed that she was the savior who had kept me from death all those years ago.

Why hadn’t I questioned it? Why hadn’t I doubted her? Was it fear? Maybe I was afraid that if it wasn’t her, I’d never find the girl who really saved me, never get to make it up to her. Or maybe I was just a fucking idiot.

For years, I went along with Sarah’s lies. And then came Aria. She came out of nowhere that night at the club, a whirlwind that somehow made its way into my life and hadn’t left yet.

Aria who, despite everything that happened today—despite the accusations, despite her so-called family showing up and putting her through hell all over again—was still sitting out there in the main office, working.

She was quietly, steadily, putting in the kind of work ethic that I’d rarely seen from anyone, let alone her adoptive sister. She wasn’t complaining. She hardly mentioned the wound on her leg that was caused by Sarah’s antics. She hadn’t even asked for sympathy. I doubted she’d want it if I offered.

I watched her from behind my office window, watched the way her eyes were focused on her computer screen, her face impassive. If the whole incident this morning threw her off, then she wasn’t letting that get in the way of her work.

Her resilience was impressive.

For a second, I almost wished she would look up. Part of me wanted her to meet my gaze, glare at me, scream at me—do something to acknowledge how wrong I’d been about her. But she didn’t. She didn’t even turn her head.

I shouldn’t have believed Sarah. I should have known better. Deep down, I knew that. I knew it the moment Aria had confronted her outside, the way she’d bared her past—her real past—for everyone to see.

She’d shown me, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wasn’t the monster Sarah had painted her to be. That it was quite the opposite, in fact.

But I still needed to know, just to be certain. I needed proof. Real proof.

And so I dug for it.

Not that it was hard to find. A few taps on the keyboard and some records pulled up on my screen later, and I had what I needed: Aria’s high school yearbook photo.

There she was. She was fifteen or sixteen in the picture, her hair tied back, and a smile on her face that didn’t reach her eyes. It must have been right before her emancipation.

There was a guardedness to her back then, no doubt because she was still living in that awful place with those awful people. But it was definitely her. She had the exact same green eyes, the exact same face. She was just a little younger and… dorkier. Adorably dorkier.

I cursed under my breath, running a hand through my hair as I stared at the screen. The longer I looked, the more I realized how wrong I’d been to believe Sarah’s story. There was no way Sarah could have been that girl from all those years ago. I’d known it, on some level. I’d known.

“Darren, you’re a goddamn fool,” I muttered, leaning back in my chair and rubbing a hand over my face. I should have looked into the matter myself when I first realized Aria and Sarah’s connection. A lot of upset could have been avoided.

I glanced back out the window to see Aria still working, still focused. And for a moment, I let myself imagine that maybe… maybe our meeting all those years ago wasn’t a coincidence. And maybe our second meeting at that bar wasn’t a coincidence, either.

Maybe it was fate that had pushed us together both times—because she was my mate, even if she was human. And if I tried to push her away again… would she just run back into my life for a third time, just like she had all those years ago?

…

Eighteen Years Ago

I was lying on the side of the road, my fur matted with blood and dirt. Every breath felt like a knife stabbing through my lungs, and my body was barely holding itself together after the rogue attack.

I was a pup, barely old enough to understand what was happening. My legs wouldn’t work. My body wouldn’t obey me. I couldn’t even cry out for help, and I was too far from my parents to use our Mindlink.

I was going to die there. I knew it.

But then, I saw her.

A small figure was running down the road, her sneakers kicking up dust as she skidded to a halt beside me.

She dropped to her knees, her face coming into view. I couldn’t make out her facial features, as she was silhouetted against the sun—but I noticed how the light behind her head looked like a golden halo.

“Are you okay, little puppy?” she whispered softly, reaching for me.

I tried to open my mouth to respond, but all that came out was a weak whimper. I couldn’t shift into my human form. I was stuck as a pup, and this girl… she was a human. If she found out what I really was…

“Oh no,” she murmured, reaching out to touch me. I flinched instinctively, having heard the stories about humans. But her hands were gentle as she ran her fingers through my blood-matted fur. “Poor puppy… You’re hurt. Really hurt.”

She didn’t leave me there, claiming that I was a lost cause like so many others would have. Instead, she picked me up, not caring if my blood got on her shirt. She wrapped me in her jacket and cradled me against her chest, carrying me to safety.

I could feel her heartbeat through her jacket. Her warmth surrounded me, chasing away the cold that had started to seep into my bones. She held me like I was something precious, something worth saving.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said softly as she carried me away. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

At that moment, I didn’t feel afraid. I didn’t feel the pain. All I felt was her. My savior.

And even now, years later, the image of her looking down at me had never left my mind; her warm hands, her head haloed by the sun, and those big green eyes…

Aria was my green-eyed angel.

The girl who had saved me from the brink of death.

I owed my life to her.