My fingers tighten around the phone 138

Aria’s POV
I pushed open my apartment door with a weary sigh, relishing the quiet that greeted me. After the emotional hurricane
of confronting my father and the unexpected intensity with Ethan, my body craved rest, but my mind refused to slow
down. I couldn’t stop reliving the feel of Ethan’s hands on my waist, his lips against my neck, the way his scent had
wrapped around me like a warm blanket. A smile tugged at my lips as I placed the bottle of Silver Moon cider on my
kitchen counter.
Finally, after so many years of pain, something good was happening. I ran my fingers over the smooth glass of the cider
bottle, admiring the familiar label with its orchard scene and the subtle Silver Moon pack symbol woven into the design.
My absolute favorite since childhood—always reserved for special occasions. Despite everything, Dad had remembered.
I touched my stomach gently, feeling the slight curve that housed my twins. “What do you think, little ones? Should we
celebrate a little?” I whispered.
The anti-nausea medication had been working wonderfully today—no morning sickness for the first time in weeks. The
doctor had said a tiny amount of alcohol wouldn’t harm the babies at this stage, especially werewolf cider with its
minimal alcohol content. After all the stress, I deserved a small indulgence.
I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, the familiar weight comforting in my hand as I carefully broke the seal on the bottle.
The rich apple scent wafted up, transporting me instantly to harvest celebrations back at Silver Moon territory. Memories
of dancing around bonfires under autumn moons, Dad lifting me onto his shoulders so I could see over the crowds, Mom’s laughter like silver bells in the night air. Before everything fell apart.
I poured myself half a glass, just enough to savor without risking harm to the twins. The first sip was heaven—sweet and
tangy, with that unique earthy undertone that only Silver Moon orchards could produce. I closed my eyes, savoring the
taste that was both nostalgia and comfort on my tongue.
The second sip felt… different. There was a subtle bitterness beneath the sweetness that I didn’t remember from before. I
frowned, examining the amber liquid in my glass. It looked normal, but something felt off.
I took another small sip, trying to place the strange aftertaste. By the third sip, a wave of dizziness crashed over me so
suddenly that I nearly dropped my glass. My vision blurred at the edges, the world tilting sideways as I staggered to the
couch.
“What’s happening?” I gasped, clutching the armrest for support. My limbs felt impossibly heavy, like they were being
pulled down by invisible weights. The glass slipped from my fingers, tumbling to the carpet with a soft thud, amber liquid
spilling across the beige fibers.
The bitter aftertaste lingered on my tongue as my heartbeat thundered in my ears. My vision blurred, then sharpened,
then blurred again. A wave of ice-cold dread crashed through me, freezing my blood and sending violent tremors
through my limbs.
My hands flew instinctively to my stomach, cradling the small bump where my twins grew, innocent and vulnerable. Raw
panic clawed up my throat, threatening to suffocate me as my whole body broke into a cold sweat.
I fumbled for my phone, fingers clumsy and uncooperative. I needed to call someone—Ethan, Zoe, anyone. But my
coordination was deteriorating with frightening speed. The phone clattered to the floor, spinning out of reach.
A key turned in my front door, the sound abnormally loud in my hypersensitive ears. I struggled to turn my head, my
muscles screaming in protest at even this small movement. Through swimming vision, I made out a familiar figure
sauntering into my apartment.
“Look at you,” Emma’s voice dripped with venomous satisfaction as she closed the door behind her. “The mighty warrior,
reduced to this pathetic state.”
I tried to speak, to demand what she’d done, but my tongue felt swollen and uncooperative in my mouth. All I could
manage was a low, guttural growl that sounded nothing like human speech.
Emma circled the couch like a predator, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Oh, don’t strain yourself, sweetie. It won’t help.”
She perched on my coffee table, crossing her legs primly as she leaned forward to study me. “Wolfsbane is such a
fascinating toxin, don’t you think? This particular strain attacks the nervous system first. You’ll remain conscious right until
the end, unable to move, to speak… to protect yourself. And then, you will die.”
“You’ve always been such a thorn in my side,” Emma continued, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face with
mock tenderness. “No matter how many times I pushed you down, you’d climb back up. So irritatingly resilient.”
1/2
Without warning, her hand cracked across my cheek with stunning force. The blow nearly toppled me from the couch, my
deadened muscles unable to brace or react. Pain exploded across my face, but I couldn’t even lift a hand to the burning
skin.
Emma grabbed my chin roughly, forcing my gaze to meet hers. Her manicured nails dug into my skin like tiny daggers.
“Before you die, I want you to know why Ethan will never truly be free of me.”
I fought against the creeping darkness at the edges of my consciousness, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek.
The sharp pain provided momentary clarity, a fragile anchor to wakefulness.
“Ethan’s been searching for a mysterious woman from six years ago,” Emma’s voice drifted into a dreamy, almost longing
tone. “A woman he met at a resort. They slept together, and afterward, he left his necklace behind.”
My foggy mind stumbled over her words, sluggish and slow to catch up. Six years ago… the resort… the necklace…
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“You sold that necklace, didn’t you?” Emma’s soft laugh cut through the haze. “What a pity. Good thing I managed to
snag it for myself.” Her smile twisted into something sharp and vicious. “Ethan’s desperate to make up for that night. He
knows she was a virgin, you see. It eats him up inside.”
Her words crashed into me like a tidal wave, a savage blow that ripped the air from my lungs and left me gasping.
Ethan—he was the man from that night. The father my son had never known. The realization clawed at my mind, sharp
and merciless—Lucas’s eyes, those haunting, vivid hues mirroring Ethan’s perfectly. That strange, magnetic pull I’d felt
toward him all this time, a sickening thread binding me to him.
My chest caved in, a raw, choking sob ripping free as the room tilted violently around me, the walls closing in like a trap.
My hands shook, my heart thundered, and every breath felt like swallowing glass.
“So, Aria,” Emma’s voice turned cold and cutting, her face so close I could feel her breath, “you fell in love with the man
who raped you six years ago. Isn’t that just beautifully, tragically poetic?”
A broken whimper escaped my lips—the only sound I could manage—as hot tears streamed down my face, my body
trembling with the weight of the truth.
“Don’t worry though. Ethan thinks it was me that night.” Her smirk widened into something monstrous. “And he’s willing
to do anything to atone. You’re the only one who knows the truth, and once you’re gone…” She trailed off, drawing a
finger across her throat in a slashing motion. “I’ll take care of your little bastard too. Erase all evidence. And Ethan will be
mine forever.”
No. Not Lucas. Please, not my son. I strained against the invisible bonds of paralysis, desperate to protect my child, but
my body refused to obey. The wolfsbane was working through my system with terrifying speed, each heartbeat pushing
the poison deeper.
The room began to fade in and out, reality blurring at the edges. I fought with everything I had, trying to hold onto
consciousness, but I was losing the battle. My vision tunneled, darkness encroaching from all sides.