27. Aria

27

ARIA

The scent of fresh baked cookies mingles with brewing coffee, filling my cramped apartment. It’s a pathetic attempt at creating a welcoming atmosphere, as if the right combination of sugar and caffeine could somehow make this conversation easier. I snort at my own foolishness, smoothing down my shirt for the hundredth time.

It’s been a couple of days since… well, since everything changed. I now have not one, but two bond bites, and I can feel Quinn and Zane humming under my skin with the faint threads of Malachi and Dash pulsing through them.

I thought this would feel stifling, suffocating even, and yet I feel really good, which is precisely why I’ve been avoiding my besties. I can’t put this off any longer though. They need to know everything.

Late afternoon sunlight filters through the gauzy curtains, casting my living room in a warm glow that feels at odds with the knot in my stomach. My eyes catch on the small potted succulent perched on the coffee table—Quinn’s gift. I remember his crooked grin as he presented it, spouting off some obscure fact about its resilience.

“Just like you, Aria,” he said, those earnest eyes twinkling.

The memory of his fingers brushing mine as he handed over the plant sends a shiver down my spine. It’s moments like these that make me question everything I thought I knew about alphas and myself.

My throat tightens. Damn him and his thoughtful gestures. Damn all of them, really, for worming their way through my carefully constructed walls.

A sharp knock jolts me from my spiraling thoughts. I open the door to find Cayenne, Ginger, and Willow, their expressions a mix of concern and barely concealed curiosity.

“Hey, bestie,” Cayenne says, pulling me into a hug that smells of cinnamon and trouble. Her fiery hair tickles my cheek as she whispers, “You look like shit. This better be good.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Come on in, I have cookies and coffee.”

We cram onto my worn leather couch and overstuffed armchair, the space suddenly feeling claustrophobic. An awkward silence stretches between us, broken only by the clink of mugs and the rustle of Ginger fidgeting with a throw pillow.

Finally, Cayenne breaks. “Alright, Aria, spill it. You’ve been acting weirder than Quinn at a hacker convention. What’s going on?”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “It’s… the pack.”

“What about them?” Ginger prompts gently, leaning forward. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with them lately.”

I nod, the words sticking in my throat. “Yeah, I have, and that’s kind of the problem. I think… I’m willing to give them a second chance.”

Well… That’s a stretch, because I went from hesitance to bite marks in the same damn breath.

Being an omega is hard.

Cayenne raises an eyebrow. “You mean like, all of them? Are we talking multiple second chances here?”

I take a steadying breath, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “Yeah, all of them. I think I’m ready to try again with all of them.”

Willow’s eyes widen, but there’s no judgment, just quiet understanding. “That’s… a lot, Aria. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

Ginger, however, furrows her brow, concern etching her features. “Aria, I know they’ve been supportive lately, but remember how they reacted when they first found out about your omega status. Are you sure you can trust them not to turn on you again?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, dredging up memories I’ve been trying to suppress. The hurt, betrayal, and fear all comes rushing back.

I bite my lip, dropping my gaze to my hands. “It’s not that I’m diving in headfirst. It’s more like… I’m open to it, but it’s terrifying, you know? Letting them in again after everything.”

Cayenne squeezes my hand, her grip firm and reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay to be scared, but it’s also okay to want this, especially after everything you’ve been through. If they are willing to put in the effort, why not?”

Ginger tilts her head, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You have bond bites, don’t you? I can tell from the way you’re holding back.”

I look up, startled. The room goes silent, and I feel their eyes on me. Slowly, I pull down the collar of my shirt, revealing the faint bond marks that two of my alphas left behind. The bites are healing.

Beneath it, I can feel them simmering just beneath my skin.

Willow leans in, examining them with a mix of awe and worry. “Wow, Aria. That’s… intense, but it’s also kind of beautiful.”

Cayenne whistles quietly. “Damn, girl. You really went for it.”

I laugh softly, more due to nerves than anything. “Yeah, I did, and it scares the hell out of me, but I also feel… something I haven’t felt in a long time. Like maybe, just maybe, this could be right.”

Ginger reaches out, brushing her fingers over the edge of one of the bites. “These are yours, Aria. They chose you, and you chose them. That’s powerful. But remember, it’s okay if you need to set boundaries. They need to respect that, or it’s not worth it.”

I nod, tears pricking at my eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of—losing myself again. What if I get so caught up in them that I forget who I am?”

Willow’s voice is soft but firm. “Aria, you’ve come so far from who you were with Noah. You’re stronger now and more aware of what you need. These alphas aren’t Noah. They are showing up for you in ways he never did.”

Cayenne leans back, crossing her arms with a smirk. “And if they ever forget that, we’ve got your back. I mean it—one wrong move, and we’ll set them straight.”

“Pack bonds aren’t just about love,” Ginger adds, her voice thoughtful. “They are about trust, respect, and a lot of communication. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Just be honest with them—and yourself.”

I nod, feeling a bit lighter. “Thanks, guys. I needed this. I needed to know that it’s okay to be scared and that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”

Willow smiles, reaching over to squeeze my knee. “Aria, you’re tougher than a cactus in a sandstorm. We’re your oasis, always.”

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, the sound jolting me back into the moment. I glance down, my heart skipping when I see Zane’s name.

Zane : Hey. Can I stop by tomorrow? I’d really like to talk. No pressure though.

I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. The room suddenly feels too small, the air too warm. My mind races with possibilities. What does he want to talk about? Is it about the pack? About us?

“What is it?” Cayenne asks, leaning over to peek. “Oh, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody himself.”

I nod, acutely aware of their eyes on me.

Ginger nudges my shoulder gently. “Aria, relationships are like cooking—you can’t rush the process. Simmer on it, taste test, and adjust as needed.”

Willow nods. “You’re in control here, Aria. You set the pace.”

I type out a response, my fingers trembling slightly.

Me : Okay. Tomorrow works. Let’s meet at the coffee shop on 5th at two. Neutral ground.

I hit send before I can second-guess myself, placing the phone down with a mix of relief and anxiety. My friends offer encouraging smiles and soft cheers.

“Listen up, bestie,” Cayenne says as they gather their things to leave, her voice uncharacteristically serious. “We’re your personal army of chaos. Whatever you choose, we’re ready to raise hell or high-five.”

“Cayenne!” Willow admonishes, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips.

“What? I’m just saying. Options are good.”

We share a tight group hug, our bodies squished together in my tiny apartment. Our combined scents mingle—cinnamon from Cayenne, Ginger’s warm spiciness, and Willow’s soothing lavender. It feels like a shield against everything outside these walls.

Cayenne pulls back first, her hands on my shoulders as she looks me dead in the eye. “Seriously, Aria. I would commit homicide for you.”

Ginger nods, adjusting her purse strap with a grin. “And if any of those alphas forget how lucky they are, we’ll remind them loudly.”

Willow squeezes my hand one last time before stepping back. “Aria, you’re like that succulent, resilient as hell, and we’re your sunshine and water, always here to help you grow.”

I feel my throat tighten, emotions clawing their way up, but I force a smile. “You guys are like my personal pack of misfit superheroes. Seriously, what would I do without your chaos?”

Cayenne smirks, giving me a playful shove. “Oh, you’d probably be fine. Just way less fabulous without us.”

We all laugh, and it feels good, like maybe things aren’t as impossible as they seem. As they start to gather their things, Cayenne shoots me one last look, waggling her finger. “But seriously, call if you need us, even if it’s just to complain about Dash’s ridiculous hair or Malachi’s brooding.”

Ginger snorts, shaking her head. “Or Zane’s perpetual I’m too cool to care face.”

“And Quinn’s… everything,” Willow adds, a knowing smile on her lips.

I roll my eyes but can’t help the laugh that escapes. “I promise I’ll call. Thanks for… well, for everything.”

They each give me one last hug before heading to the door, filling my small apartment with the comforting noise of friendship. As the door clicks shut behind them, the silence settles back in, but it doesn’t feel as heavy as before. Their warmth lingers, a quiet reassurance that no matter what happens next, I won’t face it alone.

I lean against the door, inhaling the lingering mix of cinnamon, ginger, and lavender. It’s like a promise—soft, steady, and unwavering. I’m stronger than my fears, and maybe I’m brave enough to let these alphas in.

I sink onto the couch, staring at our makeshift pros and cons list. My eyes linger on one line—chance for true happiness and belonging.

I trace the words with my finger, my heart racing. There’s a part of me that craves that connection and sense of belonging, but am I brave enough to risk my heart again?

As I get ready for bed, my mind wanders back to the pack. Their scents linger in my memory—Malachi’s cedarwood and amber, Quinn’s soothing lavender and bergamot, Zane’s intense leather and sandalwood, and Dash’s invigorating citrus and ocean breeze. I close my eyes, imagining what it would be like to fully embrace those scents and let myself be part of something bigger than my fears. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, equal parts excitement and terror.

The soft glow of my bedside lamp casts shadows across the room as I curl up under the covers. Tomorrow, I’ll call and set up an appointment with a therapist. It’s time to face these fears and dig deeper.

My gaze falls on the small potted succulent, bathed in moonlight on my nightstand. As I drift off, the scents of the pack swirl in my mind—a tempting promise of belonging and a terrifying risk of losing myself all over again.

Maybe, though, I’m finally strong enough to take that leap.