My fingers tighten around the phone 39

Aria’s POV
The midday sun filtered through the café windows, casting warm patches across our corner table at Mountain View Café.
After a hectic morning at the training facility, this quiet lunch felt like a stolen moment of peace. Leo had received an
elegant invitation to dine with Shadow Fang’s Luna tonight – the kind of formal request that came on thick cream paper
with silver embossing – but he’d insisted on spending time with us first.
“So you’ve known Ethan since childhood?” I tried to keep my voice casual as I helped Lucas navigate his oversized
sandwich that threatened to spill from both ends. The question had been burning in my mind since Leo mentioned their
connection, making my thoughts race with implications I wasn’t ready to face.
Leo’s lips curved into that familiar knowing smile that always made me feel transparent. His eyes held the same warmth
they’d shown when he’d first found me, lost and alone, six years ago. “Indeed. The great Shadow Fang heir.” He leaned
back in his chair, eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and old memories. “Strong, decisive, born to lead – everything
a proper alpha should be.” His gaze settled on me with uncomfortable perception. “We spent every summer together
until we were teenagers. Training, competing, learning pack politics.” He paused, studying my carefully neutral expression.
“Why the sudden interest?”
“Just curious.” I focused intently on wiping a smudge of sauce from Lucas’s chin, avoiding Leo’s too-perceptive eyes that
had always seen more than I wanted to share. “Since we work together now at the training facility.”
“Sure,” Leo drawled, clearly unconvinced. He watched Lucas attack his french fries with enthusiasm before continuing in a
softer tone. “Truth is, I’ve always known I couldn’t measure up to him, alpha-wise. Even as kids, there was something
different about Ethan – this innate authority that commanded respect.”
A comfortable silence fell as we watched Lucas methodically sorting his remaining fries by size, creating neat little rows
on his plate.
“Mom?” Lucas’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Can I have ice cream? Uncle Leo promised!”
“Did he now?” I shot Leo a mock glare, grateful for the interruption and the chance to steer away from dangerous topics.
My oldest friend just grinned unrepentantly, that familiar mischievous spark dancing in his eyes as he signaled the
waitress.
“Guilty as charged,” he admitted, winking at Lucas. “But in my defense, he did finish all his vegetables. I believe that was
our deal, right, buddy?”
Lucas nodded enthusiastically, those forest-green eyes bright with anticipation. “Three whole carrots!”
“Three whole carrots?” I raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. “Well, I suppose that does deserve a reward.”
The waitress arrived with the dessert menu, and I watched as Leo and Lucas put their heads together, debating the merits
of various ice cream flavors with exaggerated seriousness. The sight made something in my chest both warm and ache.
Leo had been my rock, my safe harbor through the darkest times of my life.
When Leo and I arrive at the training facility that afternoon, our entrance causes a noticeable stir. Young wolves pause in
their morning drills, heads turning to track our progress across the courtyard. The whispers ripple through the training
grounds like wind through tall grass. I catch fragments of conversations with my enhanced hearing, each one making me more conscious of the spectacle we’re creating.
“Who’s that with Instructor Reynolds?”
“An alpha, definitely… Look at that aura!”
“They seem so close… Did you see how he looks at her?”
“And the boy – they’re like a perfect family portrait…”
Leo walks beside me with his characteristic easy grace, apparently oblivious to the attention we’re attracting. Or perhaps
he’s just better at ignoring it after years of pack politics. His presence fills the space in that particular way of born alphas,
though he’s always worn his power more casually than most. Unlike Ethan’s overwhelming intensity that commands
immediate submission, Leo’s authority settles around him like a comfortable coat.
When he bends down to retie Lucas’s shoelace before saying goodbye, the gesture sends a fresh wave of whispers
through our audience. It’s such a domestic moment, the kind that feeds into exactly the sort of speculation I’ve spent
years trying to avoid.
“Thanks for lunch,” I say as he straightens, trying to ignore the dozens of eyes watching our every move. My enhanced
hearing picks up the excited heartbeats of nearby students, practically vibrating with curiosity.
“Anytime.” His smile is warm as he ruffles Lucas’s hair, the casual affection so natural it makes my chest ache. “Be good
for your mom, kid. I’ll see you both soon.”
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I watch him leave, acutely aware of the growing silence in the training yard. The moment he’s out of sight, activity
resumes with suspicious suddenness, though I notice several of my students sneaking glances in my direction. Their
poorly concealed interest reminds me of high school drama, except these teenagers have enhanced senses and pack
mentality to fuel their gossip.
I’ve barely started organizing my training equipment when Zoe appears at my elbow, practically bouncing with barely
contained excitement. Her eyes are wide, cheeks flushed with the effort of holding back her questions until Leo was
gone. As one of the youngest instructors in training, Zoe often forgets the professional distance we’re supposed to maintain. Today, her enthusiasm makes her even more indiscreet than usual.
“Oh my god, Aria!” She bursts out, dropping her voice to what she probably thinks is a whisper but carries clearly in the
afternoon air. “He’s gorgeous! Is he your mate?” She glances around conspiratorially before leaning closer, her next words
making my heart stutter. “Is he Lucas’s father? You three look so perfect together – like a real family!”
The innocent questions hit deeper than she could know, stirring up memories I’ve spent years trying to bury. I focus on
adjusting my training gloves, the familiar motion helping to steady my trembling hands. The leather creaks as I pull the
straps tighter, buying time to compose myself.
“Leo is a friend,” I say finally, keeping my tone light but firm. “A good friend who’s been there for us, nothing more.”
But Zoe’s romantic nature isn’t so easily deterred. Her eyes sparkle with the kind of hope that makes my chest tight with
remembered pain. “But the way he looks at you,” she persists, leaning closer as if sharing a precious secret. “And how
natural he is with Lucas…” Her eyes shine with the kind of optimism only the young possess, untouched by life’s harder
lessons. “It’s like something from a fairy tale!”
If only she knew how far from a fairy tale my life really is.