17. Aria
Aria
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
My senses ring with the echo of footsteps—too close for comfort. Every pulse of blood in my veins feels like a countdown. My clan’s enforcers are here. They’ve come for me.
Images flash behind my eyes: dark corridors in my mother’s estate, cold laughter when they cornered me, the echo of steel on stone. My mouth goes dry as I remember how I barely escaped with my life.
They’ll do worse if they drag me back.
Before I fully register my own actions, I turn to Roan. She’s already in motion—her sword half-drawn, muscles tense. She’s scanning the perimeter, determined, her brows knit in concentration.
The mere sight of her readiness both steadies and terrifies me.
She has no idea what they’re capable of.
I take a trembling step toward her. “Roan,” I whisper, voice ragged. “You can’t fight them. You can’t—”
She glances at me, a fierce glint in her eyes, but doesn’t speak. She’s too focused on picking up any sign of movement in the trees. The tension in her body sends a bolt of realization through me— She’s doing this for me.
She’s willing to risk everything, face an entire clan if that’s what it takes.
My heart twists, a dizzying blend of gratitude and dread.
I can’t let her do this.
My breath comes in shallow spurts, and the panic tightens my chest. My clan has no mercy, no compassion. They’ll kill her or worse, all because she tried to help me.
“I… I should go,” I stammer, stepping away. “If I surrender, maybe they’ll—”
Her head snaps around, eyes locking on mine. “What?”
My throat tightens. The words rush out, frayed and desperate. “If I turn myself in, they might leave you alone. They only want me. That’s how they work—they break you, make you an example. Then they leave everyone else untouched.” My voice cracks.
She straightens, sheathing her sword with a sharp click . In two strides, she’s close enough that I can see the flare of anger in her eyes.
“No,” she growls, a blunt refusal that resonates with surprising warmth.
Tears well up, and I press my trembling hand to my mouth, trying to steady my breathing. “I—I won’t watch them hurt you,” I manage, voice muffled behind my fingers.
Roan’s grip lands gently on my good shoulder, forcing me to meet her gaze. “Aria.” She says my name firmly, making me focus. “We didn’t make it this long for you to surrender.”
My pulse hammers. I can’t quell the swirl of memories—fleeing under moonlight, blood on my clothes. “You don’t understand,” I choke out, shaking my head.
She exhales, her tone softening. “Then explain it to me. Help me understand. But don’t you dare run off alone and hand yourself over to them.”
I pull a shaky breath in, leaning into her touch despite every instinct telling me to withdraw. “They’ll kill you.”
Roan’s jaw clenches. “Maybe,” she says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go without a fight. And I’m sure as hell not letting them drag you back to whatever hell you escaped.”
My throat constricts, tears pricking my eyes. The force of her conviction both floors and reassures me. She’s never seen my clan’s enforcers in action, yet she’s ready to stand her ground.
I should be grateful. I should feel safer knowing she won’t abandon me.
Instead, fear squeezes tighter in my chest.
She doesn’t understand.
Roan has faced death before—I know that much. I’ve seen it in the way she moves, the way she watches the treeline like it might betray her at any moment. She’s fought, bled, survived.
But my mother? My clan?
They don’t lose. They don’t stop . And Roan—gods, Roan thinks she can protect me. But this isn’t just another fight.
These are the monsters who raised me, broke me.
And I can’t let her walk into their jaws just because she feels responsible for me.
Just because of Garrick.
That name tightens something in my chest. The partner she lost. The man she couldn’t save. Since him, she’s built walls no one could scale.
Until me.
I swallow hard, the words catching in my throat before I force them out.
“I’m not Garrick, Roan.”
She freezes. The change is immediate—like a wire pulled taut, every inch of her going still. Her shoulders lock, lips flattening into a hard line. And her eyes…
Gods, her eyes go dark. Guarded. Distant. Like I’ve pressed a blade to something she keeps buried too deep to name.
I want to take it back. But I can’t. She needs to hear it.
Because I’m not a replacement. I’m not her chance at redemption. And if she gets herself killed trying to prove otherwise—
My heart stutters.
I can’t lose her.
“I know that,” she says, but the words are clipped, bracing.
She turns slightly, exhaling through her nose. I don’t know what I was expecting—an argument, maybe, or for her to deny it altogether. Instead, she grips the hilt of her sword like an anchor, knuckles pale.
A long beat passes before she speaks again.
“I know that,” she repeats, softer this time. “I know exactly who you are.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t so much as flicker.
“You’re the woman who left everything behind because you couldn’t stomach their cruelty. You’re sharper than you let on, braver than you think, and stubborn enough to drive me mad.” She exhales sharply, tilting her head just slightly, like she’s measuring her words before she says them. “But not now, Aria. Not with this. You don’t get to be stubborn about your life.”
Her fingers twitch at her side like she wants to reach for me, but instead, her voice lowers, rough around the edges. "Not when I’ve already decided to fight for it."
For a moment, I can’t breathe.
Roan isn’t a woman who says things lightly—she speaks in action, in movement, in the way she sharpens her sword every night like a prayer. But now, she’s standing in front of me, voice low and steady, saying this like it’s the simplest truth in the world.
It sends something splintering through my chest, something terrifying and fragile and impossible.
And somehow, that terrifies me more than anything else.
I try to look away, to gather myself, but Roan reaches out—just enough for her fingers to brush the edge of my sleeve. A grounding touch, not quite holding me but not letting me drift away either.
“I don’t want them to take you, Aria.” The roughness in her voice is back, barely restrained. “So don’t make me watch it happen.”
A shiver runs through me, part fear, part something else I can’t name. I nod, slow and careful, because it’s the only thing I can manage.
Roan watches me for a beat longer before pulling her hand back, jaw flexing like she’s fighting herself. Then she shifts her weight and clears her throat, stepping back, giving me space I don’t want but probably need.
The tension between us settles, not gone, but wrapped around us like something inevitable.
I take a shaky breath, forcing a small, wavering smile. “You really are terrible at letting things go, mercenary.”
The corner of Roan’s mouth twitches, just a flicker. “And you’re terrible at listening, Mouse.”
The words should be sharp, but they’re not. They’re soft, edged with something almost… fond.
I swallow, stepping back so I can straighten. My heart still thuds like a war drum, but my voice comes out steadier this time. “Okay,” I manage, meeting her eyes. “I’ll try to listen for once. If we face them, we do so together.”
Roan grins, and I find myself offering a small smile back. “That’s more like it,” she murmurs, scanning the gloom once more. “Now, stay close. We need to figure out how many of them are out there. And remember what I taught you,” she says, low and pointed. “Cheat.”
A huff of laughter escapes me, too quick and nervous to be real. “Right. Cheat. Because that’s what’s going to save us against trained enforcers.”
Roan’s expression sobers. “It might.”
Her gaze lingers, searching, and I know what she’s really asking. Do you understand? Are you ready for this?
I nod, pressing my lips together. “I remember.”
“Good,” Roan murmurs. Then she turns, stepping silently toward the underbrush, every movement controlled, predatory. She tilts her head slightly, signaling me forward. “Lead the way.”
I force my body to move, to shove my fear down deep, where it won’t get in the way. The forest is thick with shadows, the scent of damp earth clinging to the air. Every rustle of leaves sends my pulse hammering harder.
Roan moves like she belongs to this world, slipping through the darkness with effortless grace. I do my best to mimic her, keeping close, remembering how she taught me to step lightly, to keep my weight centered.
We move deeper into the trees, and the hush of the forest stretches taut around us. My fingers tighten around the dagger at my hip.
Because if it comes to it, I won’t hesitate.