4 Not One, But Two

Aria’s POV

The weight of the world seemed to press down on me as I sat, curled up in the corner of my room, my body trembling with every silent sob.

It had been two days since that night—two days since Lucas had rejected me. Every second had felt like a lifetime, each moment dragging me further into despair.

The sting of his words echoed through my mind, replaying in haunting fragments: the shock that swept through the crowd, the cold indifference in his eyes, the sting of betrayal.

I had believed he had been joking, as a sort of prank, but the unwavering look in his eyes let me know that there was nothing of such in his mind.

I had always known the risks of loving someone—giving them too much power to use against you, because they could wield it however they pleased.

But I never imagined it would end like this.

I never imagined that he would stand in front of me, a room full of people watching, and reject me with such cruelty. Without there being any reasoning or excuse behind it.

I had even thought he would have given me the courtesy of at least rejecting me when we were alone, or accepting me just because of the bond we shared.

The moment I felt the bond, the possibility of being rejected by him never even crossed my mind.

And yet, here I was, drowning in the consequences of my own foolishness.

The sound of my brother Matthew charging at Lucas, the fury in his eyes as he confronted him, replayed in my memory, as it was the only thing that had broken through the haze of my sorrow. But I hadn’t been able to stop it.

I hadn’t been able to stop the hurt from consuming me. My heart shattered, piece by piece, as I watched Matthew struggle to contain his anger. But I hadn’t even been able to acknowledge it properly, too lost in my own devastation.

When I finally found the strength to speak, it was only to respond with dignity. I had no choice but to maintain some semblance of composure, even as my wolf howled in agony inside me.

As I turned away from Lucas, my heart splintered. I felt my soul unravel, torn apart by the pain. It was a feeling I couldn’t describe, a hollow emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole. My wolf was mourning, just as I was, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I knew she felt the pain ten times more than I did, and words, even from me, couldn’t comfort her.

How could they, when I wasn’t even comforted myself?

The hours blurred into days, and I had found myself locked in my room, unwilling to face the world outside. I could hear Matthew, my parents, and even my friends, all trying to comfort me from the other side of the door. But I couldn’t bring myself to face them. I couldn’t bring myself to let anyone in.

I wanted to be alone with my grief, to wallow in the pain that Lucas had left behind. They knocked on my door, spoke kind words, but none of it reached me. Not even Matthew’s voice, filled with concern, could break through the wall I had built around myself.

Lucas’ laughter echoed in my mind.

“Aria, you’re terrible at this,” he had chuckled, watching me struggle to shift back to my human form after training.

“Shut up,” I had grumbled, glaring at him. But I couldn’t stay annoyed when his smile softened, and he reached out to brush a stray leaf from my hair.

“You’ll get it,” he had murmured, quietly. “And when you do, I’ll be right here.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would banish the memory. But it only made it clearer.

He hadn’t been right here. He had left me in the most brutal way possible.

It was on the third day that my mother’s voice broke through the fog of my sorrow. She wasn’t the type to push me, but there was something in her tone, a quiet urgency, that made me listen.

“Aria,” she said softly from outside my door.

“I know it hurts. I know you’re angry, but you can’t stay in here forever. If you keep drowning in grief, you’ll lose yourself—and even worse, you could weaken your wolf, or lose her entirely. We’ve seen too many tragedies like that.”

Her words pierced through the darkness of my mind.

I hadn’t realized how tightly I had been holding onto my grief until that moment.

The loss, the betrayal—it was suffocating me, and I didn’t know how to let it go.

But I knew, deep down, that I couldn’t stay locked away forever.

I reached inward, searching for my wolf, but there was only silence. A deep, hollow emptiness where she should have been.

Panic clawed at my chest.

She had never been silent before.

Not when I was upset. Not when I was in pain.

Never.

My breathing quickened, and I forced myself to my feet, stumbling toward the window. My wolf had retreated so far that I could barely feel her presence. And if she kept slipping away…

No.

I refused to lose her.

For the first time in days, I opened the window, letting in the cool air. My wolf stirred—just barely—but it was enough. She was still there, just hidden beneath the weight of my grief.

I needed to move.

Without another word, I slipped out of the house and into the familiar woods. The pack’s territory was vast, but there was one place I always found solace. The hot spring.

As I walked through the trees, the soft rustling of leaves in the wind calmed my frayed nerves. The path to the hot spring was familiar, and the scent of the earth and water filled my senses.

When I reached the hot spring, the sight of this secret sanctuary brought a sense of peace and comfort.

I stripped off my clothes, standing at the water’s edge, and without hesitation, I stepped into the warm embrace of the hot spring. The heat wrapped around me, soothing and steady, like a gentle wave washing everything away.

It wasn’t just the physical sensation of the water that brought me peace—it was the feeling of letting go.

Letting go of Lucas. Of the rejection. Of the life I thought I would have had.

As I submerged myself deeper into the water, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to float in the tranquility.

For the first time in days, I felt my wolf relax.

Her howling anguish quieted as we both found a small sense of peace.

The hot spring had always been a place where I could breathe without the weight of the world pressing down on me.

But then, just as I started to let myself relax, a sudden shiver ran down my spine.

My eyes shot open, and I instinctively tensed.

It was the unmistakable feeling of being watched.

I stood stock-still, listening intently.

My wolf shifted.

Finally, she whispered. You feel them too.

Two pairs of eyes, I could feel them, piercing through the darkness, focused on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

I couldn’t see who it was, but I could sense their presence.

It was almost as if the world had stopped moving, the air growing heavier with each passing second.

I hesitated, my heart thudding in my chest.

Who was watching me?

And why?

The unease that filled me was undeniable.

I had always trusted the silence of the sanctuary, but now it felt like something was lurking just beyond my reach.

I stood frozen in the water, every muscle in my body tense, my eyes darting between the shadows.

The feeling of being watched lingered, growing stronger.

The feeling wasn’t as unsettling as I thought it would be.

But it was there.

I wasn’t alone anymore.