Aria's POV

Lyla moved in the next morning.

I heard her before I saw her—the soft pad of bare feet on hardwood, the hushed murmur of her voice asking Thorne where to put her things. Her things. In my home. In the Alpha residence where I'd spent six years building a life that now crumbled around me like ash.

I didn't leave my room until noon.

When I finally descended the stairs, the house smelled different. The air carried traces of her—something floral and cloying, mixed with Thorne's scent. They'd been touching. Everywhere. The stench of their bond clung to the furniture, the walls, the fucking air I breathed.

Thorne stood in the kitchen, shirtless, making coffee like he'd done a thousand mornings before. But now Lyla sat on the counter beside him, legs swinging, wearing one of his old t-shirts.

My shirt. He'd given her my fucking shirt.

"Aria." Thorne's voice was carefully neutral. "You're up."

His gaze flicked to the dining table. Then back to me. The envelope still sat under the fruit bowl, exactly where I'd left it. Untouched.

I saw the moment he registered that I hadn't signed anything.

His jaw tightened.

Good.

"Hard to sleep," I said, gripping the doorframe, "when your husband's true mate is moving into your bedroom."

Lyla's cheeks flushed. "I can move my things to a guest room—"

"No." Thorne's word was absolute. Alpha command threading through it. "You belong in our room. With me."

Our room. The words burned through my chest.

I walked past them to the cabinet, reaching for a mug. My hand trembled. The bond between Thorne and me hummed with his awareness of me—his guilt, yes, but also this dark satisfaction at having both of us close.

His gaze followed my every movement.

"Sit," he said. "Eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"That wasn't a request."

My wolf bristled at the command, but six years of submission to his Alpha authority made my body obey before my mind could protest. I sat at the dining table, hands folded in my lap, refusing to look at either of them.

Thorne set a plate in front of me. Eggs. Toast. Fruit arranged precisely how I liked it.

He remembered.

The thought hurt more than the betrayal.

Lyla hopped down from the counter and took the seat beside Thorne—beside him, across from me. Their hands found each other immediately, fingers intertwining on the tabletop.

"Tell me what you need for the Luna ceremony," Lyla said softly to him. "I want to do it right."

"The ceremony requires the sacred springs," Thorne replied. "We'll need to prepare the site. I'll call the engineers this afternoon, have them check the access road."

My fingers curled into my palms.

He didn't know yet.

The sacred springs sat on my land—the land his own dissolution contract would strip from him the moment I signed those papers. The papers currently sitting under the fruit bowl, six feet to his left, that he kept glancing at like a wound he was trying not to scratch.

He couldn't force me to sign. The contract had to be mutual. And until I signed, the territory was still legally tied to our partnership—neither his nor mine to dispose of.

But the moment I did sign, the land—and the springs—would revert to me alone.

He had two impossible options. Push me to sign and lose the ceremony site. Or keep me bound to the contract and never legally make Lyla his Luna.

I lifted my coffee and took a slow sip.

"Aria." Thorne's voice cut through my thoughts. "Look at me."

I raised my eyes slowly, meeting his stare.

His dark gaze was heavy on me. Possessive. Assessing. The bond between us pulsed with his conflicting desires—the satisfaction of having his true mate close, and this twisted need to keep me within his reach too.

"You'll attend the ceremony," he said.

"Will I?"

"You're still my wife. Still part of this pack." His jaw tightened. "You'll stand beside us."

Beside them. Watch him claim her. Feel every moment of it through our bond.

"You want me to watch you fuck her in a ritual?" My voice was steady. Cold.

Lyla's face burned crimson.

Thorne's hand found my jaw, gripping hard. The touch was sudden—dominant. My wolf whimpered at the familiar feel of his control.

"Watch your tone," he growled. "I'm trying to include you."

"Include me in what, Thorne? Your new life? Your true mate bond?" I pulled from his grip. "You want me at the ceremony so you can feel my pain while you claim her. That's what this is about. You can't fully enjoy her unless I'm suffering too."

His eyes flared. "That's not—"

"Isn't it?"

Silence stretched between us.

Lyla shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe I should—"

"Stay." Thorne's command froze her in place. He turned back to me, guilt and hunger warring in his stare. "You're still bound to me, Aria. That bond isn't broken. Every time I touch her, you feel it. Every time I kiss her—" He leaned closer. "—you feel that too."

My chest constricted.

"I'm not doing this to hurt you." His voice dropped lower. Intimate. The same voice he'd used in our bed for six years. "I'm doing this because my wolf needs her. Needs you. Needs to keep you both."

"Keep us both," I repeated flatly.

"Yes." His thumb brushed my lower lip. The touch was electric—familiar and forbidden. "Let me have this. Let me have both of you."

Through our bond, I felt his desire—not just for Lyla, but for me too. This dark, twisted hunger to possess us equally. To consume us both.

"You're a greedy bastard," I breathed.

"I'm an Alpha." His mouth hovered over mine. "We take what we need."

The pull between us was magnetic. Six years of partnership. Six years of his hands on my body. My wolf recognized him—wanted him despite everything.

I jerked back, slamming the wall between us.

"I won't be your consolation prize."

"You're not—" He exhaled sharply. "Fuck, Aria. I don't know how to do this. I've never had a true mate before. But I've never stopped wanting you either."

"Wanting." I laughed bitterly. "That's all it ever was. Wanting. Never love. Never commitment. Just taking what you needed and leaving me empty."

"That's not true—"

"Every night for six years, I felt you hold back. Felt you give me your body but not your soul." My voice cracked. "And now I know why. You were saving it for her."

Thorne's expression shifted. Raw pain breaking through his Alpha mask.

"I did love you," he said quietly. "In the only way I knew how."

"Not enough."

"Maybe not." He straightened, authority settling back over him. "But you're still mine. Still bound to me. And I'm not letting you go."

I stood, pushing back from the table.

"Then I have one condition for the ceremony."

He went still.

"What?"

"You want me there. Fine." I let my own smile come—slow, sharp, mine. "But I'll attend as your wife, in full Luna regalia, with my title intact. Not as some defeated ex you trotted out to legitimize your replacement."

"Aria—"

"And the ceremony site." I tipped my head. "Have you confirmed availability of the springs yet?"

His pupils flickered. The first real crack in his composure.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you reading the dissolution contract you drafted." My voice was almost pleasant. "Section seven. Territory clause. I'd suggest you read it before you book the engineers."

Lyla's head turned slowly between us, confusion clouding her face.

"Thorne, what is she—"

"Nothing." His voice was tight. "She's bluffing."

"Am I?" I picked up my coffee cup, finished it, and set it neatly back on the table. "Try me, Alpha. Schedule your ceremony. Send your engineers. See who shows up to stop them."

I walked away, feeling his stare burn into my back.

The bond between us pulsed with sudden, sharp alarm.

He was already mentally reaching for the envelope under the fruit bowl.

I smiled all the way up the stairs.

For the first time since I'd felt him with her at midnight, I wasn't the one drowning.