Torn between two mates.
Aria’s POV
The castle rises from the cliffs like a dark sentinel, its towers cutting into the sky, its walls etched with the scars of battles long past, and in its shadow, I begin to find a rhythm I had thought lost forever. The first few days have passed in a blur of strange customs, unfamiliar faces, and the constant awareness that I am a stranger in a place that measures loyalty in strength and obedience. The Lycans are unlike werewolves. They are disciplined, fierce, and relentless in their loyalty, a well-oiled machine of muscle and instinct, and yet despite their dominance, I feel their eyes on me often, curious and cautious, testing whether the girl brought here is as fragile or as dangerous as the stories say.
I have been learning quickly, moving through the corridors, watching, listening, absorbing the customs and the subtle hierarchies that govern this castle. Each day I train, pushing my body to remember the rhythm of combat. I am not the girl who trembles when the pack is attacked. I am rising from that pain, reclaiming pieces of myself that fear and betrayal had tried to crush, and I sense, with a quiet satisfaction, that even Darius notices the speed with which I am regaining my strength, that he sees me becoming myself again.
Tonight, the hall is quieter than usual, lit by torches whose flames flicker along the walls. I sit with Darius at a long table, drinking from a goblet of water. The castle seems almost peaceful in these rare moments, though I know it is a fragile illusion. My thoughts drift to Ethan, and I cannot silence the memories that claw at my mind with every quiet second, memories I have tried to lock away but which refuse to stay buried. I do not want to think of him, yet the bond between us, though I tried to deny it, pulses stubbornly within me, alive and relentless, a thread I cannot sever no matter how I try. I feel it in every breath, in every heartbeat, in the shadow of every fleeting thought, but there is another bond growing, strong and undeniable, the one I share with Darius. We have paused from training, yet the weight of both bonds presses on me, and I am afraid it will tear me apart.
“Darius, I need to tell you about Ethan Blackthorn,” I begin, my voice low, hesitant at first, as though admitting his name aloud might summon him from the shadows. I pause, searching for the words that might make sense even in this impossible reality, in the presence of the Lycan King who walks beside me.
“He is… was my mate. My Alpha. He rejected me once. I don’t understand why. I don’t think he did either. But the bond is still there. It never went away,” I confess, letting the truth spill out despite the ache it carries.
Darius leans back slightly, his eyes narrowing not with anger or disbelief, but with the attention that demands honesty, that insists on understanding the weight I carry even if he cannot feel the bonds as I do. I draw in a steadying breath, feeling my claws flex beneath the table.
“He saved me once. Before I could give myself to him, he pushed me away. I thought I could not survive without him, that I could not forget him. But with you, I feel that I can,” I admit, and his hand brushes against mine in reassurance, grounding me, steadying me, reminding me that there is someone here who will not betray me, who will not let me fall.
"Then you will need to accept it and not let the bond between you and Ethan control you. You are here, you are alive, and you have the power to decide what comes next. Ethan may be part of your past, but he cannot define who you become now. That is yours to claim,” Darius says, his voice calm, unwavering. I nod, absorbing the truth in his words like a lifeline, feeling the subtle shift in my own strength as I sit taller and remind myself that I am not the girl who lost everything. I am Aria Hale, daughter of an Alpha. I am learning that I still have a choice. I still have power.
The castle settles into the quiet of the night. Lycans patrol silently along corridors, their eyes sharp, their senses sharper. We move to the training yard again. My claws slide against the practice dummies, letting my body remember the flow of strikes, blocks, and counterattacks. Each movement brings a measure of freedom, a reclaiming of myself. I push harder, faster, letting every muscle scream with exertion, letting my wolf within me stir with satisfaction. I am not fragile. I am not broken. I am rising. I have a new mate, a man I know I can trust, yet I am still wary of surrendering fully, still fearful of the bonds that pull and twist within me. After training, I sit once more with Darius, and we talk about training and what we are planning on doing tomorrow.
I smile at Darius and feel the bond between us.
As we are sitting there talking, a vibration runs through the stone floors into my feet, a pulse that grows insistent, impossible to ignore. Darius tenses beside me, every muscle coiled, every sense heightened. A sound rises, faint at first, a low rolling rumble almost swallowed by the night wind, but it grows, swells with each heartbeat until it is unmistakable, a chorus of voices, paws, and fury, like the forest itself has awakened. My stomach twists, heart leaping in my chest. I know this sound, know it with a certainty that burns through every fibre of me. It is Ethan, the Alpha, who should have claimed me, the thread that refuses to break.
I hear it, clear and raw, a war cry that carries across the land, vibrating through the walls and towers of the castle, a sound of hundreds of voices. My chest tightens, a surge of dread and longing mixing with adrenaline. The bond pulses faintly against mine, insistent, impossible to ignore, and yet when I glance at Darius, his hand tightens around mine, steady, protective, grounding me.
“That is Ethan,” I whisper, voice barely audible above the rolling echo of the cry. We get up and move to the big window.
“He thinks he can come for you. Perhaps he regrets breaking the bond. Let the war begin,” Darius replies, his tone quiet but sharp, eyes scanning the horizon.
I feel it, the pull of two bonds, the thread of what remains, the undeniable presence of a mate I thought I had lost forever and of a new mate who holds my trust. My heart races, my body tense, and my senses straining. The war cry continues, echoing across the land, filling the night with the promise of blood, fury, and reckoning. I know, in that instant, with my pulse thrumming in time with the rolling cries, that I am torn between my two mates.