LOGINBear with this short update. The original chapter was longer, but it and two more chapters accidentally got deleted. Since they were not backed up, I am rewriting them again, which is no fun at all. I know some of you are waiting for the updates, and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting another day. That's why I wrote a shorter version of the original chapter.
AuroraWe walk again after, our steps falling into an easy rhythm like they have always known how to find each other. The night air feels softer now, cooler against my cheeks. My fingers stay laced with his, and every so often his thumb traces a quiet circle against my knuckle. Not asking. Just there. It feels like reassurance without words.The stars stretch above us, scattered and quiet. Somewhere nearby, a breeze moves through the trees, carrying that faint scent of earth and pine. It reminds me of home. Or maybe it reminds me of him. The two things are starting to blur in ways that feel comforting instead of scary.I clear my throat, already smiling because I know how this is going to sound. “I need to tell you something.”He looks at me right away. Always does. His attention shifts fully, like I have gently tapped his shoulder from the inside. “Okay.”“I have to visit my dad,” I say. “It’s my grandparents’ anniversary. He wants me there. I kind of have to show up.”There it is. T
AuroraLucas’s face freezes in a way I have never seen before. Not anger. Not calculation. Just pure surprise, wide-eyed and unguarded, like his thoughts tripped over each other and fell down the stairs.I laugh before I can stop myself. It slips out warm and unguarded, and that seems to shake him loose.He blinks once. Twice. His jaw tightens, then loosens, like he is testing if his mouth still works. When he finally moves, he steps closer, slow enough that I notice the careful placement of his boots, the way his shoulders square as if he is bracing for impact.He steps closer, eyes searching mine. “Why did you say that I marked you?”I tilt my head, letting the question sit between us. The corner of my mouth lifts. “Did you really think I would never find out?” I raise a brow, just enough. “That bite was not random. It was you claiming me.” My fingers trace the spot beneath my collarbone through the fabric, not revealing it, just reminding him it exists.His hand goes through his ha
LucasAnastasia knocks once and then pushes the door open like she owns the place when I tell her to come in, which she kind of does, it is her home as well.She sets a paper bag on my desk, right on top of a map I was staring holes into. The smell hits first. Baked potato chips. Warm. Salty. Comfort disguised as food.She just got back from Headquarters. I can tell by the tension still sitting in her shoulders and the faint metallic scent that always clings to her jacket after long days there.Who would have thought the Chief of Hunters would become my sister. Life is funny that way. Not ironic. Just strange and persistent.I glance at the bag and then at her. “You brought these again.”“You like them,” she says, like that explains everything. It does to her. One detail cataloged and stored forever.I once mentioned liking the baked potato chips one of the chefs at HQ makes. Just a passing comment, nothing important. But since then, every time those chips are baked, she brings them f
AuroraThe cup is warm in my hands. Too warm. I notice it and still lift it to my mouth because I am distracted by the smell, by the way the chocolate looks thicker than anything I have ever had before. Merope stands across from me, her back half turned as she puts something away on a shelf. She hums softly, not a song I recognize.I take a sip.Instant regret.Heat floods my mouth and I make a small, undignified noise as I pull back, coughing once, eyes watering. The cup wobbles in my hands and I manage not to drop it, which feels like a minor miracle considering the way my tongue feels like it has been personally betrayed.Before I can recover, Merope turns.Her eyes flick straight to my face. Not the cup. Not the spill that did not happen. My face. The way my lips part as I breathe through my mouth, the quick blink of my eyes as I try not to make this worse.The sting lingers, sharp but fading.She crosses the room in a few steps. I notice how she moves without rush, but everything
AuroraElder Merope is old. Not just old, but ancient in the way mountains are old. The kind of old that is older than your grandparents or great-grandparents. If I did not know her, if I had passed her on the street, I would have guessed she was maybe forty. Calm eyes. Smooth skin. Hair only lightly touched with silver. Nothing about her looks like centuries. And yet everything about her feels like time.My grandmother would want to kill her if she ever met Merope and found that, without any costly procedures, she looks this young.Her house smells like dried herbs and rain-soaked earth... and feels welcoming. I like the way her eyes soften when they land on me.She is kind to me. Not polite-kind. Not careful-kind. Real kindness. The kind that does not hover or pity. Lucas trusts her, and that trust slides into me without resistance. If he believes in her, then I do too. Simple as that.“You are special,” she tells me, not for the first time. She keeps saying this to me as an affirm
LucasThe wind will not shut up.It keeps pushing through the trees outside, leaves brushing and colliding, a soft but relentless sound that drills straight into my head. Swish. Rattle. Pause. Then again. The rhythm is almost intentional, like it knows I am trying to think and wants to be counted among my thoughts. I sit at the desk with papers spread out in front of me, maps pinned, notes stacked, timestamps circled and crossed out so many times the ink has started to blur. Aurora is not here, she is at Merope's place.I will pick her up in an hour. Sixty minutes. I check the time without meaning to as I am literally counting seconds until she is with me.Forcing my mind back to the task, I trace the pattern of attacks again with the tip of my pen. Location. Time. Method. Entry. Exit. I say the words silently, like a mantra. I have already submitted my final assignment. University is finished for now, which should feel like relief. Instead it feels like permission. Every spare minute







