Chapter 27
ARIA
“Are you Aria?”
His voice is softer this time, but the question hangs the same way it did the first time. I keep my hands still on the desk, my mask firmly in place.
“No, I’m not.” I say.
Something crosses his face. Quick, there and gone. It looks almost like disappointment, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would a stranger be disappointed that I’m not the person he was looking for?
He studies me a second longer, then nods once.
“My apologies for the intrusion,” he says. “I must have been mistaken.”
He turns and walks out, pulling the door shut behind him.
I don’t move.
There was something about him. Something in his eyes I can’t place. I shake my head and turn back to my supplies.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t know him. He clearly doesn’t know me, not really, or he wouldn’t have accepted my answer so easily.
I turn back to the table, setting the report down and forcing myself to focus on the supplies in front of me.
But the feeling doesn’t leave. It sits there in my chest for the rest of the afternoon.
***
Maya shows up after dinner, letting herself in without knocking.
“You look tired,” she says, dropping onto the edge of the bed.
“Long day.” I set my notes aside and sit across from her. “Yours?”
“Better now that I’m not on my feet.” She stretches, then glances at me. “Oh—did you hear? Wolcott’s back.”
I blink. “Who?”
Maya’s mouth falls open. “You don’t remember him?”
“Should I?”
“Aria.” She stares at me like I’ve said something insane. “Wolcott. Your friend from the orphanage. How could you forget about him?”
I go still, running the name through my mind. Nothing comes at first. Then it clicks into place all at once—the jaw, the way he held himself, the eyes.
The man from the doorway.
“That’s him,” I say slowly. “The one who came looking for me today. He asked if I was Aria.”
Maya’s eyes go wide. “Wait. He already found you? Today? What did you say?”
“I said no.”
“Of course you did.” She shakes her head, but there’s no judgment in it.
I think about the flicker on his face when I denied it. Maybe that’s what it was. Disappointment. But I can’t be sure, and it bothers me that I can’t be sure.
“We were close,” I say, more to myself than to Maya. “He never treated me like garbage. Not once.”
Maya’s expression softens. “He was gone that day,” she says quietly. “By the time he got back, you were already gone, too.”
My stomach tightens. “What did they tell him? What does he think really happened?”
“I don’t know,” Maya admits. “I wasn’t exactly keeping close tabs on Wolcott’s opinions at the time. I was a little busy trying to keep myself together.”
I nod.
“So,” I say, keeping my tone light. “How’s he been? All these years?”
Maya’s eyes narrow slightly, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “He’s good. Traveled a lot. Stronger than ever, from what I hear.”
“That’s nice,” I say, careful to keep my voice even.
“Mm-hmm.” She’s clearly not buying the neutrality, but she lets it go for the moment. “He’s single, by the way.”
“Good for him.”
She snorts. “Right.”
I look away, pretending to straighten the blanket beside me.
“You know,” Maya says after a beat, “he used to like you. Back then.”
I laugh, short and dismissive. “We were friends, Maya. That’s all.”
“No.” Her voice is firm enough that I look up. “It was more than that. On his side, anyway.”
“He never said anything.”
“Because he could see exactly where your heart was,” she says. “Fixed on Declan, all the time, every day. He cared about you enough not to make things complicated for you.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the look on her face stops me. She’s not exaggerating or guessing.
“There’s more,” Maya says, quieter now. “After the exile, when everyone else moved on, when the pack stopped talking about Aria Sinclair like she’d ever existed—Wolcott didn’t. He left the pack. Went looking for you himself.”
My chest tightens. “For how long?”
“A long time.” She holds my gaze. “He never found you.”
I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.
“He’s still looking,” Maya says gently. “Even now.”
The words settle over me heavy and strange.
Maya watches me for a moment, then stands, brushing off her leggings. At the door, she pauses.
“Oh—almost forgot. He’s coming by the pack house tomorrow. Training assessment, I think, or a meeting with Antony. Something routine.”
My pulse stutters. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” she confirms, then gives me a small smile. “Night, Aria.”
She leaves, closing the door softly behind her.
I sit there in the dark long after her footsteps fade down the hall, the knowledge settling into my chest like a stone.
I’ll see him again.
Part of me dreads it—the risk, the way he almost saw through the mask once already. Part of me wants it so badly I can’t breathe around the feeling.
I can’t separate the two.