Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Emily
Auren’s words slice through the market noise, and my coffee freezes halfway to my lips. The familiar, honeyed tone wraps around my name with false warmth. My palms dampen around the to-go cup, and for a moment, I can’t remember how to breathe.
“Emily.” My name in his mouth holds a gentle reproach, as if he caught me out here cheating.
The market sounds recede, coffee grinders and vendor calls fading to a distant hum. My head turns as my focus narrows to the slender figure standing a few feet from our table, pale lavender hair catching the morning light, pale skin luminous against his deep-purple silk shirt.
He’s more striking than when I last saw him, when Jared and I caught him by surprise, and he arranges his features into a picture of soft concern that bitter experience has taught me hides cruelty.
As Jared sets his coffee cup down with a thunk, his hand finds my thigh under the table. The warmth of his palm anchors me to the present, pulling me back from the edge of panic.
“What an unexpected pleasure,” Auren continues, lifting a hand in a graceful little flourish. “I hardly ever come to the weekend market, but Simone—you remember Simone, don’t you, darling—insisted I check out her new soap stall.”
Simone had been one of his sycophants, always fawning all over him. She’d started her homemade beauty line specifically with him in mind, even though Auren insists on only using imported products.
He gestures toward the craft section with a delicate movement of his wrist. “The universe works in mysterious ways, bringing us together like this.”
My throat closes, and I set my cup down before I spill it. The coffee’s bitter scent turns my stomach now. Under the table, my fingers curl into fists, nails biting into my palms.
The pain helps me focus, bringing clarity back to the world. “What do you want, Auren?”
“Want?” He flattens a hand to his chest, fine-boned fingers splayed across silk. “Why, to say hello to an old friend, of course. Why so suspicious?”
The market crowd flows around us, shoppers swerving to avoid entering Auren’s orbit. The subtle release of his pheromones gives him space and attention on an instinctive level. I’ve watched him weaponize his Omega nature for years.
When I remain silent, he takes in Jared, then Grady, assessing them with a flicker of his amethyst eyes. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
“No,” I say, the word small but firm. “I’m not.”
Auren’s perfect lips curve, and he steps closer, invading the small bubble of safety I created with Jared and Grady. The scent of crushed violets and honey wafts from his skin, a familiar perfume that once filled our home.
“So protective of your new friends.” He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Or is one of them more than a friend? You always did crave a pack connection, even when it wasn’t healthy for you.”
My cheeks burn, and I hate myself for the reaction.
Across the walkway, I spot Leif glancing our way, his tall frame tensing as he registers the newcomer at our table. Quinn tugs at his sleeve, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding as she points at colorful book covers.
“You should leave,” Grady says, the mild Beta displaying unexpected steel. “Emily’s enjoying her coffee.”
Auren’s attention swivels to Grady, taking in his simple sweater and worn jeans with a dismissive sweep. “And you are?”
“An actual friend,” Grady replies, not offering his name.
“How lovely. Emily always did collect strays.” Auren’s smile turns brittle as his gaze drops to Grady’s cane. “It’s her nature to fix broken things.”
The words strike at old bruises. I’d spent years believing I gravitated toward damaged people, convinced my worth lived in what I could offer. Auren fed that belief every day, taking and taking until nothing remained.
“Nobody here is broken,” I say, finding Jared’s hand under the table and squeezing it tight. “And I don’t fix people.”
“Of course not,” Auren soothes. He pulls out Leif’s chair at our table and sinks into it with liquid grace. “You appear to be doing well, Emily, enjoying a day of shopping. Construction must be booming.”
The casual way he inserts himself into our space sends a shiver down my spine. This is how it always began, his soft invasion and refusal to acknowledge boundaries, all wrapped in politeness so exquisite that objecting made you seem to be the unreasonable one.
Jared turns his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together to offer me his strength.
“What do you want, Auren?” I ask again.
He leans forward, crossing his arms on the table. His wrists appear fragile, bone china delicate beneath his skin. “Can’t I miss you? We were together for years.”
“Until you kicked me out and stole my cat.” The accusation escapes before I can stop it, sharper than I intended.
A flash of annoyance flashes before melting into practiced remorse. “That was unfortunate. The pack voted, and I was outnumbered. You understand how democracy works.”
Democracy. As if our relationship had been a political system and not his careful manipulation. As if he hadn’t orchestrated every moment leading to my removal.
“Mixie is home now,” Jared cuts in. “Where she belongs.”
Auren’s gaze sharpens on Jared, recognition dawning. “Ah, the eager pup. Weren’t you in that whole water taxi incident on social media?” His lip curls. “Quite the scandal.”
A vendor calls out coffee orders nearby, the normalcy of the sound a surreal contrast to the tension at our table. A child laughs somewhere to my left.
“Not much of a scandal when you have the full story,” Grady comments, stirring his coffee.
“I’m sure.” Auren dismisses this with a flick of his fingers.
His attention swings back to me, his entire presence softening in the familiar, disarming way he used to weaponize. “Emily, I’ve been thinking about us since your last visit. About mistakes that were made.”
My stomach drops. This is new territory. Auren never admits when he’s wrong, only reframes situations to make others responsible.
“Mistakes…” I repeat, the word like ash in my mouth.
“Our bond was special,” he continues with a remorseful tilt of his head. “The pack hasn’t been the same without your… stability.”
The pause before “stability” speaks volumes. What he means is my labor, my sacrifice, and my willingness to put everyone else first.
My usefulness.
Jared’s breathing changes beside me, a subtle shift toward protective anger sensed more than heard. Across the market, Leif has angled his body toward our table while maintaining a conversation with Quinn, his awareness of potential trouble evident in his posture.
“Your timing is interesting,” I say, forcing myself to remain calm. “You’ve been avoiding me for months. Now you show up right after I get my cat back.”
Auren’s eyes widen with practiced innocence. “I thought you were still mad at me, and I’m sorry about holding on to Mixie. I thought, if she stayed with me, that it meant we weren’t over. Not really.”
He reaches across the table as if to touch the hand near my coffee cup, but I pull back before he makes contact.
Irritation flashes before he gives me a honey-sweet simper. “I’m glad you have her back now. She never settled with the rest of us the way she did with you.”
“What do you want?” I ask for the third time, my patience fraying.
Auren sighs, a theatrical sound. “To talk. Alone.” His eyes flick to Jared and Grady before returning to me, and he runs a finger along his collar to draw my attention to his bare throat, where he’d had my Mark removed. “About possibilities.”
The air turns suddenly thin, insufficient for my lungs. His pheromones intensify, the sweet scent designed to cloud judgment and trigger protective instincts in Alphas.
My mind remembers this manipulation, and I hate how effectively my body responds regardless, how my heart rate increases despite my rational mind’s objections.
“Whatever you have to say,” I manage, squeezing Jared’s hand tighter, “you can say it here.”
A crack forms in Auren’s perfect mask, and the sweet scent of his pheromones shifts, a subtle sour note threading through the honey and violets.
He recovers fast, though, a familiar, syrupy charm sliding back over his face that once filled me with hope but now twists my heart.
“Of course.” Auren leans back in a show of respecting my boundaries. “If that’s what makes you more comfortable. Though I remember a time when you would have begged to be alone with me.”
A threatening rumble comes from Jared, but when I squeeze his hand, he quiets.
“What we shared,” I say carefully, “was never equal.”
“Is that how you remember it? I recall giving you a home and a purpose.” Auren’s words drift across the table with the softness of flower petals, beautiful at a distance but carrying poison beneath the surface. “You blossomed while you were with me, Emily. Or have you rewritten our history?”
His pheromones reach out again, twining around me.
“You were always so dedicated,” Auren continues, fingers brushing the tabletop. “Remember those breakfasts you used to whip up for everyone? The pack still talks about your sourdough.”
The words pull me backward in time to preparing meals in our kitchen while Auren entertained the new Alpha he brought home the previous night.
I blink, pulling myself back to the present. My coffee sits cold in front of me, nausea roiling in my stomach. Quiet concern fills Grady’s eyes, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm on the side of his coffee cup.
“The pack still talks about me?” I ask, hating how my voice wavers.
“Of course they do.” Auren reaches across the table again, this time succeeding in brushing his fingers over my wrist, and the contact sends a familiar, unwanted shiver through me. “No one ever wanted you to leave, my love. It was a misunderstanding that spiraled out of control.”
The lie hangs between us, fragile as spun sugar and twice as toxic. No misunderstanding forced me out of the pack, stole my belongings, or held my cat hostage.