I don't stay standing there even for a second after Hillary turns and walks away. I can't. If I linger in this hallway for a moment longer and maybe someone saw us conversing, they would figure out what it's about.
And if anyone finds out what's been going on between us… I won't survive the shame. It would eat through me until there's nothing left. Especially now that I've been left behind, they wouldn't just mock me... they'd rip me apart for being so naive, so stupid.
They wouldn't just laugh, they'd revel in it. They'd whisper it to each other, like it's the funniest thing they've ever heard, that I actually believed there was something real going on.
So I move. Quickly. Too quickly.
All I can think about is locking myself in my room, my tiny, suffocating little space.. and letting everything pour out before the weight pressing down on me crushes me completely.
The corridor feels longer than it ever has. Every step feels exposed. I'm terrified someone will stop me, that I'll be forced to speak, to pretend I'm fine. I'm not fine. I'm not even close to fine.
I reach the entrance to the servants' quarters. I push the door open and step inside, my breath ragged, my cheeks burning hot while the rest of me feels cold.
My face must be pale, but my eyes… my eyes are swollen and red, the kind of red that no one can mistake for anything other than what it is.
Crying.
I didn't know there were people in here. Every head turns toward me.
A group of servants stands near the hallway, gathered in that casual, restless way people do when there's news to pass around.
Their faces shift as they look at me, some with sympathy, others with poorly hidden curiosity.
There's excitement in a few expressions, bitterness in others. But there's also that sharp edge of jealousy I've learned to recognize too well.
It's the laugh that cuts through me first.
"See? It's not just me," one of the girls says, and before I can react, she's walking over to pull me into a brief, almost sisterly hug. "In fact, Aria is crying over this one."
I on't say anything.
"It's totally okay," another girl says quickly, almost cheerfully. "You can cry all you want. Everyone here is feeling it. Watching the man of our dreams finally getting himself a wife… it hurts." She tilts her head, eyes glinting. "Wait, did he ask you to be the personal servant of our future Luna or what? Maybe it's the reason why it's affecting you this much."
Laughter bursts out across the group.
The sound scrapes through me like claws, raw and grating, and it forces words out...
"Actually, I'm not feeling well. And honestly, why would I be crying over a man like Alpha Hillary? Tell me, does anyone here really thought they would have stood a chance with him?"
"You're right." someone else says, rolling her eyes as she drops into a chair. "Even if Alpha Hillary didn't find his mate now, he still wouldn't have chosen any of us here. That's so unrealistic. He'd never actually look at a servant, even if he stayed single forever. And the moon goddess clearly knows his type… Victoria Ashford of the Red Moon Pack? That's top-tier she-wolf material."
The girl sighs after she says it, as though even speaking Victoria's name hurts her.
"Yeah, yeah. We know," another agrees with a sharp exhale. "Only someone like Victoria could ever be close to him."
"It was better when we were just admiring him from a distance when single," someone else mutters. "But now that he actually has a mate… it's killing me."
A younger girl grins suddenly. "You know, I don't get why the moon goddess never mates an Alpha to a servant. Like, imagine... I'm just sitting there one day, folding laundry, and suddenly the mate bond pulls Alpha Hillary to me. And he just hugs me tight and says…"
The rest of her words dissolve into another round of laughter.
"You people are going way too far," one of the older servants scolds, though there's still a faint smile tugging at her lips. "That's never going to happen. Stop dreaming."
"Please," the younger girl says dramatically, still laughing, "let me dream even if it'll never happen."
"You know why it doesn't happen?" another voice cuts in, this one serious, like she's delivering some great truth. "Because an Alpha has strong blood. To lead and keep the pack's strength and status, they need a Luna who's strong too. Like Victoria, from an Alpha family, elite bloodline, high ranking. That way, their heir will be strong enough to lead in the future."
She pauses, then gestures vaguely toward me.
"No offense, Aria… I'm just saying. Imagine, nameless omega, servant without a title, no parents for example like Aria, no history, no real bloodline. What would someone like that even contribute to the pack's strength? Nothing. An Alpha and an omega? That can never happen."
I don't wait for her to finish.
I force a polite nod, keeping my face as neutral as I can manage, pretending their words haven't sliced straight into me. My stomach twists, my throat tightens, but I swallow it all down.
"I have something to do," I murmur, voice tight but steady enough to pass for normal.
I slip away before they can say anything else. My legs carry me automatically down the narrow hallway, my steps quick and silent.
I don't stop until I reach my room. My small, the place that has been both my cage and my shelter, the place where I just made the greatest mistake of my life in it, because I know no matter how much I try now, I don't think I'll ever forget what just happened last night.
The moment I close the door, I lock it. And then… I break.
The sob comes out before I can stop it, sharp and raw. My knees give way and I sink to the floor, pressing a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.
But it's useless. The grief is too big, too heavy. It tears through me in waves, shaking my whole body.
I cry until my head pounds so hard I feel dizzy. Until my eyes sting and my throat aches. Until my chest feels like it's collapsing in on itself.
Hoping it will actually ease the pain in me.
Memories of Hillary last night hit me in flashes. The way his mouth claimed mine, each kiss deep and consuming, his hands mapping every inch of me as if he needed to know me by touch alone.
The way his body trembled over mine, the heat of his breath spilling my name in a voice that sounded almost unconscious, like it had been torn from somewhere deep inside him.
The way my body tightened around him when he was deep inside me, every movement pulling me further under until I couldn't imagine breathing without him.
All I wanted... for my whole future was him. And then, like it had meant nothing at all, it has all collapsed.
Eventually, I force myself to move. I push up from the floor and stumble toward the bed.
I sit down hard, my whole body aching from the weight of it all.
Then a thought slips into the chaos.
If Hillary has a mate… then maybe I have one too.
Somewhere out there, maybe there's someone the moon goddess made for me. Someone who would never hide me.
Someone who wouldn't keep me in the shadows like a shameful secret. Someone who would love me openly, fiercely, without fear or calculation.
The thought is fragile, but it's something.
And it makes me wonder... what's the point of crying over someone who was never truly mine to begin with?
I tell myself I won't cry anymore. Not over him.
I won't chase him. I won't let him get close to me again. Not when I know exactly where that road leads, to more pain, more complication, more danger than I can survive.
Or maybe it's better if I just quit being a servant here altogether.
Better if I leave the pack house. If I don't have to see him every day… standing beside her. Touching her. Looking at her the way I once thought he looked at me.
Maybe then, I can start to let him go.
Maybe then, I can start to forget.