Chapter 3 The Mate's Eyes

The river lay like a silver blade between them, wide and cold and humming with the memories Aria had tried so hard to kill.

He stood on the opposite bank, just beyond reach but too close all the same.

Damien.

The Alpha who had ordered her exile.

The mate who had let her bleed alone in the snow.

His eyes locked with hers across the rushing water. The shadows of the trees stretched long and lean around him, as if the forest itself bent away from his presence. He didn't move. Not yet. But the bond between them stretched taut, reawakening like a forgotten wound.

Aria stiffened.

She'd dreamed of this moment for three years. Not in the way lovers do-but like a wolf dreams of catching the scent of the hunter who nearly ended her life.

Now he was here.

Now he saw her.

She rose slowly, pressing one hand behind her to shield Caleb, who stood silent and still, silver eyes reflecting the moonlight. Her heart was a wild, thunderous beat in her chest.

And still, Damien said nothing.

Coward, she thought bitterly.

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then finally-

"Aria."

Just one word. Soft. Almost broken.

It landed like a stone in her gut.

She didn't let her face betray anything.

"Don't say my name," she said flatly.

Damien flinched.

His eyes darted to the small figure beside her. "Is that...?"

Aria's expression hardened. "That is none of your concern."

"But-"

"You forfeited the right to ask questions the day you let them rip me from my home and cast me into the woods like garbage."

"You were accused of treason," he said hoarsely, as if the words pained him now. "I had no choice."

"You always had a choice," she snapped. "You just didn't choose me."

Her voice cracked just slightly at the end. Not enough to show weakness. Just enough to remind him she was still human under all that fury.

Damien stared. His eyes were a storm-tortured, swirling, full of regret. He stepped forward.

She raised her hand.

"Cross that river, and I will kill you."

He froze.

"You think I won't?" she asked.

"I think... you were never the killer they painted you to be."

She smiled bitterly. "No. I wasn't. But you'll find out what three years in exile can do to a Luna."

Damien's gaze flicked to Caleb again. The boy peered out from behind his mother's cloak, curious but cautious.

"He's... mine?" Damien asked softly, voice catching in his throat.

Aria said nothing.

But her silence was answer enough.

He closed his eyes for half a breath. "I didn't know."

"Would it have mattered if you did?" she asked. "Would you have stood for me then? Would you have fought the council? The elders? Your own Beta?"

Damien's throat worked, but no sound came out.

Aria's voice dropped, cold as the wind. "You left me to die. Pregnant. Alone. You said nothing as they chained me like a criminal and dragged me away."

His voice was barely a whisper. "I thought... I thought you hated me."

"I did," she said. "I do."

The bond trembled. She felt it-he did too. That lingering ache of something broken, still pulsing, still alive. The mate connection hadn't died.

It had just gone dormant.

Until now.

Aria turned her back on him.

"You don't get to ask forgiveness," she said. "You don't get to come here and look at him like you deserve to know his name."

"Then tell me how to make it right," he pleaded. "Tell me what I have to do."

She looked over her shoulder, eyes glowing in the dark.

"Burn Bloodmoon to the ground."

Back at Camp

Ronan paced as the scouts relayed what they'd seen.

"He just stood there?" the Beta asked, incredulous. "He didn't try to cross?"

"No, sir," said the youngest scout, a wiry boy with a half-healed bite mark on his shoulder. "They spoke. Aria-uh, the Queen-warned him off. He listened."

Ronan muttered a curse. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or annoyed.

He found Aria not long after, sharpening her blade beside the fire, Caleb curled against her side. Her expression was unreadable.

"You okay?" he asked.

She didn't answer right away.

Ronan waited.

Finally, she said, "He looked at Caleb like he'd seen a ghost."

"He probably did."

"He asked how to make things right."

Ronan snorted. "What'd you tell him?"

"To burn his pack."

He blinked. "Damn. That's... dramatic."

She shrugged.

"I didn't mean it literally," she added. "But if he wants to earn anything back, he'll have to face what he did. He'll have to fight his own."

"And if he does?"

She looked away. "He won't."

Elsewhere – Bloodmoon Pack, War Room

Damien stood at the edge of the war table, staring down at the hand-drawn map.

Aria's camp. Rogue movements. Patrol losses. Supply ambushes.

She had grown stronger. Organized. And she wasn't acting alone.

"They're rallying behind her," Silas said beside him. "Not just rogues. Outsiders. Exiles. Even former Bloodmoon defectors."

Damien didn't look up. "Because she gives them something to believe in."

"Aren't you going to stop her?"

Damien clenched his fists.

"I don't want war."

Silas raised a brow. "You exiled their queen. What did you expect?"

"I want to talk to her again," Damien said. "Alone."

"Alpha-"

"She has my son."

Silas fell silent.

The air in the room shifted.

"You still love her," Silas said finally.

Damien's voice dropped. "I never stopped."

Later That Night – Aria's Tent

Sleep came in fragments.

Aria dreamed of fire. Of chains. Of Caleb screaming in the snow. Of Damien's eyes, full of tears, full of blood.

She woke with a start.

Her son stirred beside her. "Mama?"

"Shh," she whispered. "It's okay."

But it wasn't.

The dream hadn't been just a dream.

It was a vision.

The moon had shown her what might come.

She rose and walked to the edge of the clearing. Cold wind brushed her skin. Above her, the stars shimmered like teeth.

Ronan appeared beside her.

"You dreamt again," he said.

She didn't deny it.

"What did you see?"

"A pack burning. Wolves tearing each other apart. Caleb-screaming."

Ronan exhaled. "You think it's a warning?"

"I think it's a choice," she said. "And I have to make the right one."

Three Days Later

Bloodmoon's envoy arrived just after dawn.

Two messengers and a silver-marked wolf carrying a white flag.

Ronan met them at the forest border.

"Speak," he said.

The taller of the two bowed slightly. "Alpha Damien Blackthorn requests an audience. Alone. Unarmed. No traps. One hour from now."

Ronan looked over his shoulder toward the camp.

"Tell him the Queen accepts," he said. "But she will not come to him. He'll come to her."

At the Meeting Site – An Hour Later

Damien stood in the middle of the hollow, alone.

No armor. No sword. No guards.

Aria appeared from the shadows.

Cloaked. Silent. Radiant with fury and grace.

"I didn't come for apologies," she said.

"I know."

"I didn't come to forgive you."

"I wouldn't ask."

She studied him carefully. "Then why are you here?"

He hesitated. Then:

"To tell you the truth."

And for the first time in years, she let him speak.