ARIA'S POV
"A Primordial?" The word sounds foreign on my tongue. "I don't know what that means."
The stranger's silver eyes study me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. "It means you're not what everyone told you that you were. It means you're rare. Dangerous. And very, very valuable to the wrong people."
I try to sit up, but my body screams in protest. Everything hurts—my bones feel like they're still rearranging themselves from that impossible shift. "I'm just a defective Omega. Everyone knows that."
"Do defective Omegas shift into wolves the size of bears?" He raises an eyebrow. "Do they radiate power that makes Alphas drop to their knees? Do they reject mate bonds and survive the backlash?"
"I don't know." My voice cracks. "I don't know anything anymore. This morning I was making anniversary dinner. Now I'm naked in a forest talking to a stranger about being something that sounds made up."
To my surprise, he laughs. Not cruel—genuinely amused. "Fair enough. Let's start over." He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it to me. "I'm Darius Kane. Alpha of the Rogue Territories. And you're currently bleeding on my land without permission."
I wrap his jacket around myself. It smells like pine and leather and something wild. "Are you going to kill me for trespassing?"
"Depends." He sits cross-legged on the ground like we're having a casual conversation, not a life-or-death negotiation. "Are you going to try to kill me first?"
"I couldn't kill anyone right now if I wanted to." I pull his jacket tighter. "I can barely move."
"Good answer." He tilts his head. "So. Rejected mate bond. Fresh shift into something you didn't know you could be. Running into Rogue Territory with no clothes, no plan, and no clue what you are. Did I miss anything?"
"My son." The words slip out before I can stop them. "I left my son."
Something shifts in Darius's expression. "How old?"
"Five." Tears burn my eyes. "He doesn't even think I'm his mother. He thinks I'm the babysitter. And maybe he's right. Maybe I failed him so badly that—"
"Stop." Darius's voice is firm but not harsh. "Children believe what they're told by the adults they trust. If your son thinks you're temporary, someone taught him that. That's not your failure."
"But I left him—"
"To survive." He leans forward. "Let me guess. You discovered your mate was cheating. You rejected the bond. Then you ran because staying would have killed you. Am I close?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"Then you made the only choice you could." His silver eyes are intense. "Dead mothers can't help their children. You survived. That's not weakness. That's strength."
No one has ever called me strong before.
The tears come then, hot and fast. I cry for six wasted years. I cry for the son who doesn't know me. I cry for the girl who believed love was enough. I cry until there's nothing left.
Darius doesn't try to comfort me or tell me to stop. He just sits there, keeping watch, giving me space to break apart.
When I finally stop, he stands and offers me his hand. "Can you walk?"
"I think so."
He pulls me to my feet, steadying me when I wobble. "Good. Because we need to move. Your transformation sent out a power signature that every wolf within miles felt. Some will be curious. Others will be threatened. None of them will be friendly."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe. Somewhere I can figure out what you are and why you've been hiding it." He starts walking, and I stumble after him. "How long have you been told you're defective?"
"Since I was seven. My parents died in a rogue attack. After that, my wolf just... stopped. I could barely shift. Couldn't heal right. Everyone said I was broken."
Darius stops walking. Turns to look at me. "Your parents died when you were seven?"
"Yes. Why?"
"And your wolf went silent immediately after?"
"The pack healers said it was trauma. That sometimes young wolves shut down after something terrible—" I stop because Darius is shaking his head.
"That's not trauma," he says quietly. "That's protection."
"What?"
"Primordial wolves are born with incredible power. Too much for a child to control safely. So the wolf stays dormant until the shifter is emotionally mature enough to handle it. But if something triggers it early—like watching your parents die—the wolf locks itself away to protect the child from their own power."
My legs go weak. "You're saying I'm not defective?"
"I'm saying you're the opposite of defective." He resumes walking. "I'm saying you've been carrying a nuclear reactor inside you for twenty-two years, and everyone mistook it for a broken battery."
"But why didn't anyone know? Why didn't the pack healers figure it out?"
"Because Primordials are supposed to be extinct." Darius pushes through some bushes into a small clearing. A cabin sits in the center, old but sturdy. "The last one died a hundred years ago. Or so everyone thought."
He unlocks the cabin door and gestures me inside. It's simple—one room with a bed, a fireplace, and a small kitchen area. But it's warm and safe, and right now that's all I need.
"Get some rest," Darius says. "We'll figure out the rest tomorrow."
"Wait." I grab his arm before he can leave. "Why are you helping me? You don't know me. I could be dangerous."
His smile is sharp. "You are dangerous. That's why I'm helping you. Dangerous people need to learn to control their power, or they become weapons for others to use. I'd rather you become your own weapon."
He leaves before I can ask what he means.
I collapse onto the bed, exhaustion dragging me under. But before sleep claims me, I hear voices outside. Darius talking to someone.
"—found her on the border. Yes, I'm sure. Magda needs to see this."
"A Primordial? Darius, if you're wrong—"
"I'm not wrong. I saw the shift. She's the real thing."
"Then Moon help us all. Do you know what will happen when word gets out?"
"That's why word doesn't get out. Not yet. Not until she's ready."
"And the mate who rejected her? What about him?"
There's a long pause. Then Darius's voice, cold and dangerous: "If he comes looking for her, he'll regret it."
The voices fade as they walk away, leaving me alone with questions spinning in my head.
What's a Primordial? Why does everyone think they're extinct? And why does the way Darius said "weapon" make my skin prickle with warning?
I close my eyes, trying to sleep, but my mind won't shut down.
Twenty-two years of believing I was broken. Twenty-two years of being treated like I was less than everyone else. Twenty-two years of apologizing for existing.
And all of it was a lie.
I'm not weak. I'm not defective. I'm not broken.
I'm something else entirely.
Something people thought was extinct.
Something dangerous.
The question is: what am I going to do with that knowledge?
I'm still trying to figure that out when I hear the howl.
It's distant but unmistakable. A wolf calling for their pack. An Alpha's howl, specifically—commanding and impossible to ignore.
Rowan.
He's looking for me.
My body reacts before my mind can catch up. The mate bond is gone, but six years of conditioning isn't erased in one night. Part of me—the stupid, loyal part—wants to respond. Wants to go back. Wants to fix things.
But then I remember.
"You're temporary."
"She's my real mother."
"Go home, Aria."
The rage returns, hotter than before. My wolf stirs, and this time when she pushes forward, I don't fight her.
I let her rise to the surface, let my eyes flash gold in the darkness.
And when Rowan's howl comes again—closer now, more desperate—I do something I've never done in six years of marriage.
I howl back.
Not in submission. Not in acceptance.
In warning.
Stay away.
The forest goes silent.
Then, from somewhere in the darkness, I hear Darius's voice: "Well. I guess we're doing this tonight."
Footsteps approach the cabin. Multiple sets. Wolves gathering in response to my challenge.
I stand, Darius's jacket still wrapped around me, and face the door.
Rowan is coming.
But this time, I'm not running.
This time, I'm ready to show him exactly what he threw away.
The door crashes open.
But it's not Rowan standing there.
It's an old woman with silver-white hair and eyes that glow like the moon itself. Power radiates from her in waves that make my knees buckle.
She looks at me for a long moment, then smiles.
"Hello, child," she says softly. "I've been waiting twenty-two years for you to wake up."