AellaThe SUV’s engine hums beneath me, filling the space with a quiet but constant reminder that life, like the world outside the tinted windows, keeps moving. Roman sits beside me, his phone pressed to his ear. He’s speaking Russian, a language I can’t decipher, but the cadence of his voice is hypnotic. The man becomes something else when he’s focused—like a sleek blade drawn from a hidden sheath.He’s dressed today in a way that could almost be criminal: black jeans molded to his form, a white t-shirt that seems tailored to tease the imagination, and a black leather jacket that screams confidence. His blonde hair is doing that thing again—falling rebelliously over his forehead, refusing to be tamed. Just like the first day I laid eyes on him.I know I should be immune to his allure by now. But, God help me, the man looks gorgeous today; he looks sinfully, distractingly gorgeous. And I can’t afford to be distracted.Our driver informs us we’re nearing our destination. It’s then I
AellaInside the black SUV, the silence is almost eerie. I sit with my hands resting on my lap, staring out at the blurred pine trees whisking by through the tinted windows. It’s as if the world outside exists on a different plane, far removed from the storm of emotions surging within me. The SUV’s leather seats, the quiet hum of its engine, the soft breeze from the AC—all of it feels surreal in the aftermath of what I’ve just witnessed. What we’ve just done.Roman sits across from me, separated by the narrow aisle of the car, but it might as well be a mile for how distant he seems. He’s on his phone again, the deep baritone of his voice rhythmic and fluid as he speaks in Russian. He’s all focus, intensity, authority. I shouldn’t find it as attractive as I do, but there’s no denying the heat that rises within me at the sound. He looks gorgeous today, even more so without a shirt now. And I hate myself for noticing, for caring, for feeling anything other than the detached respect owe
RomanShe looks different when she’s asleep—softer, more innocent. The room is dim, and the soft glow from the bedside lamp casts a halo around her, heightening the angelic illusion. In this slumbering state, she looks pure, untouched by the sins of the world or the darkness that festers within me. It’s easier to fool yourself into thinking that’s all there is to a person when you see them like this. But I know better now.She looks so damn innocent lying there, but I’ve seen the storm in her eyes, the same kind that’s in me. The realization is as exhilarating as it is terrifying. I’ve glimpsed something else—a darkness, a wildness that echoes my own.I lean against the doorway, arms folded across my chest, taking her in. There’s a dangerous pull there, an almost magnetic force drawing me to her, and I find it harder and harder to resist. It’s strange how a person can shift from someone you thought you knew to someone who challenges everything you thought you wanted. She’s become th
RomanGrabbing my keys and my jacket, I take one last look at her. She stirs slightly, a small sigh escaping her lips, but doesn’t wake. I need to clear my head, put some miles and hours between the mess that’s unfolding and myself.My hand hovers over the doorknob for a moment, torn between the need to leave and the almost magnetic pull towards the woman sleeping behind me. Then, like ripping off a band-aid, I open the door and step out, pulling it softly shut behind me. The click of the latch feels like a gunshot, final and irrevocable.A lingering glance back at the closed door serves as a silent promise—or perhaps a warning. We’re not done, Aella and I. Far from it. But for now, distance is the only gift I can offer her, the only way to protect us both from a collision course we’re not ready to face.I make my way down the hall; I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, my steps heavy. Aella’s unearthed something in me, something I’m not ready to face. Not yet. So for now, I
AellaThe hot water cascades over my skin, a vain attempt to wash away the conflicting emotions that have taken hold of me since yesterday. The water from the showerhead feels almost accusatory as it pelts against my skin. Each droplet a microscopic indictment, saying, “You knew better.” I can almost hear them hiss as they make contact, swirling down the drain with all the resolve I thought I had. I feel the warmth envelop me, but it does nothing to dispel the cold sensation gnawing at my insides. My thoughts drift back to the SUV, to Roman, to the magnetic force between us that had been too much to resist. My mind keeps replaying those moments, dissecting them, searching for a way to rationalize my actions. But I can’t.You see, there are two versions of me. There’s Aella, the strong, independent woman who took a stand against an arranged marriage. Who ran from her pack to escape the heavy mantle of obligation and expectation. Then there’s this Aella—this conflicted mess standing i
AellaAs Kaden and I walk toward Roman’s office, the atmosphere feels different, as if acknowledging the unspoken undercurrents has changed the very air we breathe. The hallways of the pack house are lined with photos and memorabilia, each piece capturing a fragment of history, a moment frozen in time.Kaden seems lost in thought for a moment before he turns to me. “You know, Roman’s office is more than just a room. It’s a sanctuary of sorts. It holds the weight of every decision, every life within these walls.”I glance at him, intrigued. “Does it ever get to him? The weight of it all?”Kaden chuckles. “You have no idea. But don’t ever expect him to show it. The man’s built like a fortress. But every fortress has its vulnerabilities.”“Is that advice?” I probe.“Consider it an observation,” he replies, his eyes twinkling. “One you should keep in mind. He’s fortified, but even fortresses have hidden entrances.”“So, I should look for these hidden entrances?” I ask, raising my eyebrow
Aella My Jeep’s tires crunch on the gravel as I make my way along the border of our territory. Patrols are a shared responsibility among the senior members of the pack, and today, it’s my turn. It’s late afternoon, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a dusky glow through the trees. As I pull over to do a quick check on the perimeter markings. Everything seems in order on this side, no broken barriers, no unsettling scents, no signs of rogue wolves or other interlopers. I get back in the Jeep, and the engine purrs to life, sounding heavenly. As I drive back toward the pack house, something nags at me. I can’t put my finger on it, but it feels like an itch at the back of my mind, persistent and irritating. When the pack house comes into view, that uneasy feeling solidifies into a heavy knot in my stomach. And that’s when I see it—a sleek, black sedan that screams money and arrogance parked beside Kaden’s truck. Its very presence feels wrong, like a dark cloud on a c
Aella The air is thick with anticipation as we gather in the clearing just outside our territory. A symphony of crickets and rustling leaves forms the background noise to this palpable moment. The moon hasn’t crested yet, but the sky is clear, assuring us that its light will soon guide our path. The weight of leadership sits heavy on my shoulders, but it’s a weight I’ve been trained for for years, a mantle I take on willingly. Standing at the edge of the clearing, I can feel the cool night air on my skin and see the sea of faces before me—some human, some wolfish, depending on who has already shifted. I can’t help but feel a deep sense of pride as my gaze sweeps over them. To my far left, the warrior division stands tall, a group of robust and formidable wolves whose main role in the pack is defense and strategy. Leading them is Eleanor, our Gamma, her eyes like flint and posture rigid with military discipline. Her role tonight will be to safeguard the pack’s flanks as we delve