Chapter 17 Consequences And Choices #2
I lean forward, wanting to reach for her but uncertain if touch would help or make it worse.
"We'll have to talk to Roran about it," I say firmly. "This shouldn't be decided without him having input. It's his career, his future. He deserves to be part of the decision."
Richard nods, some tension easing from his shoulders now that we're not fighting him on the basic premise.
"He does. And we will. But it's the best option available given the circumstances, and ultimately you'll have to go along with what the commission decided unless you want to be disqualified entirely."
The implicit threat hangs in the air—cooperate or lose everything.
Neither Aurora nor I respond, because what is there to say?
Richard stands, the movement signaling this particular conversation is over, even if the problems remain unsolved.
"I'll give you two a moment," he says, already heading toward the door. "But we have a press conference in twenty minutes. Get your heads right, because the media's going to be absolutely feral after that display you put on."
He leaves, door closing behind him with a soft click that feels far too gentle for the bombshells he just dropped.
Aurora immediately sags in her chair, all the energy draining out of her like someone pulled a plug.
Her head tips back, eyes closing, and I watch her chest rise and fall with breaths that seem labored.
"You okay?" I ask, keeping my voice soft.
"I'm a bit winded," she admits without opening her eyes. "Must be the suppressants wearing off, combined with the adrenaline crash. Everything feels...fuzzy."
Alarm bells start ringing in my head.
"Do you have your pills?"
Her hand moves to her pocket, patting the small bottle I know she keeps there.
"Yes. I'll take one now—"
"No." The word comes out sharper than intended, and her eyes snap open to stare at me. "Don't."
We share a look—hers confused, mine determined.
"What?" she asks.
I roll my chair closer, close enough that our knees almost touch, and lower my voice even though we're alone.
"After this press conference, we're going to have a serious talk with the others about pack stuff," I say, choosing each word carefully. "About Elias and apparently Luca and whoever else is in their pack. About what scent matching actually means."
I pause, making sure she's following.
"And you can't keep taking these pills if they're officially your scent matches, Aurora. The chemical suppression is bad enough under normal circumstances, but trying to dampen biological bonds that are supposed to be forming?" I shake my head. "That's not sustainable. It's dangerous."
Her frown tells me she wants to argue, wants to insist she's fine and can handle it, and doesn't need anyone worrying about her.
But she also knows I'm right.
I can see it in the way her shoulders slump slightly, in the resignation that clouds her storm-green eyes, in the way her hand moves away from the pill bottle like it burns.
"I get where you're coming from," she says quietly, and there's vulnerability in her voice that she rarely allows. "I know you're worried about me."
"Of course I'm worried about you," I tell her, not bothering to hide the intensity of that concern.
"You just raced while still recovering from a car crash.
You're running on suppressants that are probably doing terrible things to your system.
You've revealed your identity to the entire world, which means every assumption you've relied on for protection just evaporated. "
I reach out, taking her hand in mine and squeezing gently.
"And now you're potentially scent-matched to an entire pack of Alphas, which your biology wants to bond with while your brain is pumping it full of chemicals that prevent exactly that. Something's got to give, and I'd prefer it's not you."
Aurora stares at our joined hands for a long moment, processing.
Then she nods—slow and reluctant but genuine.
"Fine," she agrees. "After the press conference, we'll talk. All of us. Figure out what the fuck is happening with this scent match situation and what to do about the suppressants."
I let go of her hand reluctantly, standing and grabbing a bottle of water from Richard's mini-fridge.
She watches me with confused curiosity as I return and hand her the water along with her pill bottle.
"Thought you said not to take one?"
"I said you need to stop soon," I correct, twisting the cap off the water for her. "But you also need to get through a press conference without your scent breaking through and causing a riot. Take one now. Make it your last if possible."
She considers this, then nods and dry-swallows a pill before chasing it with water.
I wait until she's finished, then offer my hand to help her stand.
She takes it, allowing me to pull her up, and I'm struck by how small she is when she's not projecting confidence and aggression. How the racing suit hangs slightly loose on her frame, designed for someone with Roran's broader shoulders and longer torso.
"You don't need to answer anything you don't want to answer during the press conference," I tell her firmly, making sure she meets my eyes. "Understand? They're going to ask invasive questions, make assumptions, and try to get sound bites that make good headlines. You don't owe them shit."
"Understood," she says, but there's a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
I can't help myself.
I lean in slowly—giving her time to pull away if she wants—and press the gentlest kiss to her lips. Nothing like the claiming display from earlier. Just soft and tender and carrying all the words I don't know how to say.
When I pull back, her eyes are wide and slightly dazed.
"I'm proud of you," I whisper, voice rough with emotion I'm not practiced at expressing. "Watching you on that track, seeing you race like you were born to it... Aurora, you were fucking magnificent."
She tries to hide her smile, ducking her head and biting her lip like she can physically suppress the reaction.
But I catch it anyway.
That wide grin of pure triumph that transforms her entire face makes her look younger and freer and absolutely radiant with joy.
That's the smile I want to protect.
The unguarded expression that says she's exactly where she's supposed to be, doing exactly what she's meant to do.
Even if it means sharing her with a pack I've never met.
Requires navigating complications I can't begin to predict.
No matter if it costs me everything I thought I wanted.
Because Aurora Lane deserves to be happy more than I deserve to keep her to myself.
And if that means I have to learn to share with a pack of Alphas who can give her things I can't?
Well.
I guess I better start figuring out how to play nice with others.