Chapter 9: Collision Course
1437words
The dream visits continued, though less frequently. Some nights I felt Aiden's presence, a comforting shadow watching over me. Other nights brought only ordinary dreams. We existed in this strange limbo—neither together nor truly apart, connected by bonds both visible and invisible.
I hadn't seen him in person since that rainy night on Mia's porch. According to pack whispers, he'd thrown himself into Alpha duties, expanding territory, strengthening alliances. Living his life as I lived mine—separately but in parallel.
Until the day our paths collided once more.
It happened on a crisp autumn morning. I was arranging a display of pumpkin scones when the bakery door chimed. Without looking up, I called, "Be right with you!"
"Take your time," replied a voice I hadn't heard in months.
My head snapped up. Eliza stood before my counter, as polished and perfect as ever, though her pregnancy had advanced well beyond mine. She must have been nearly full term, her belly straining against an expensive cashmere sweater.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
She smiled—that same practiced smile that had always set my teeth on edge. "Peace offering," she said, placing a small wrapped package on the counter. "And congratulations. On both the bakery and..." Her eyes dropped to my rounded stomach.
I didn't touch the package. "Did Aiden send you?"
"He doesn't know I'm here." She sighed, one hand supporting her lower back. "May I sit? Junior here weighs a ton today."
Against my better judgment, I gestured toward a small table in the corner. She waddled over, lowering herself with a grateful sigh.
"You're wondering why I'm here," she said as I reluctantly joined her.
"The thought crossed my mind."
Eliza studied me, her expression unreadable. "I owe you an apology, Luna. Many apologies, actually."
Of all the things I'd expected her to say, this wasn't one of them.
"For years, I... relied on Aiden too much," she continued. "Demanded his attention, his time. I told myself it was because he was family, because he'd always protected me. But the truth is..." She hesitated, hands folded protectively over her belly. "The truth is, I was afraid of losing him. Of losing my place in his life once he found his true mate."
"So you made sure I never had a place at all," I finished for her.
She had the grace to look ashamed. "I didn't realize how much damage I was causing. Not until you left him."
"And now you do?"
"Now I see what it's like to have a mate of my own. To build a life with someone who puts me first." Her eyes met mine, surprisingly sincere. "Jacob is a good man. He's taught me what real partnership looks like. And seeing Aiden these past months..." She shook her head. "He's a shadow of himself, Luna."
Something in her tone made me pause. "What do you mean?"
Eliza bit her lip, seeming to debate how much to tell me. "He found him, Luna. The man who kidnapped you."
My blood ran cold. "What?"
"Victor Blackwell. Aiden tracked him down about a month after you left." Her hands twisted nervously in her lap. "He went alone. Wouldn't let anyone from the pack help him."
"What happened?" I asked, though part of me didn't want to know.
"It was a trap. Victor had allies—wolves who resented Aiden's leadership. They were waiting for him." She swallowed hard. "They hurt him, Luna. Badly."
The world seemed to tilt beneath me. Despite everything, the thought of Aiden injured sent a spike of fear through my heart. "How badly?"
Her eyes filled with tears, "He nearly died. Would have, if Jacob hadn't tracked him when he didn't return."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?" I whispered, one hand instinctively moving to protect my belly, as if our child could sense my distress.
"He forbade it," Eliza said simply. "Said you'd made your choice to leave, and he wouldn't use his injuries to manipulate you into coming back."
The Aiden I knew would have paraded his wounds before me, used them as evidence of his devotion, expected gratitude and submission in return. This quiet suffering, this respect for my boundaries even at great personal cost—this was someone new.
"He's still recovering," she continued. "Pretends he's fine during pack meetings, but Jacob says he can barely shift without reopening the wounds."
"And he did this... for me?" The concept seemed foreign—Aiden North, putting himself in danger not for pack or power, but for justice on my behalf.
"For you," she confirmed. "Because he couldn't bear the thought of the man who hurt you walking free."
I sat back, trying to process this revelation. All these months, I'd assumed Aiden had dismissed my kidnapping as unimportant, had moved on with pack business while I rebuilt my life alone. Instead, he'd been fighting battles I never knew about, carrying scars I'd never seen.
"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked finally.
"Because you deserve to know who he's becoming," she said simply. "Not to make you go back to him—that's your choice. But so you can make that choice with all the facts."
Before I could respond, the bakery door chimed again. We both looked up—and froze.
Aiden stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to wariness as he took in the scene before him—his estranged mate and his foster sister in quiet conversation. Behind him, Elder North's imperious figure appeared, her eyes narrowing at the tableau before her.
I saw it now—the careful way he held himself, slightly favoring his left side. The new lines around his eyes that spoke of pain endured. The scar, thin but visible, peeking above his collar.
"Well," Elder North said coldly. "Isn't this cozy."
Aiden's eyes met mine, a complex mixture of emotions passing between us. Though he'd sensed our daughter through our bond, seeing me in person—my rounded belly tangible proof of our child—seemed to affect him deeply. His gaze softened, a tenderness there I'd rarely seen before.
"Luna," he said quietly, my name carrying a weight of unspoken feelings.
I stood, one hand instinctively cradling my stomach. But my eyes were drawn to the way he winced slightly at my sudden movement—confirmation of Eliza's story written in his body language.
"Aiden. Elder North. This is... unexpected."
"Clearly," Elder North sniffed, glaring at my obvious pregnancy. "So the rumors are true. You left my grandson yet carry his heir."
"Grandmother," Aiden warned, his voice carrying a new authority. "Not here."
"Where better?" she countered. "Since your mate has chosen to air pack business in public by flaunting her condition for all to see."
Eliza struggled to her feet. "Elder North, with respect, Luna has every right—"
"Stay out of this," the old woman snapped. "You've caused enough trouble between them."
For once, I found myself agreeing with Elder North, though I'd never admit it aloud.
Aiden stepped forward, his movements careful, too careful—not the fluid grace of the Alpha I remembered. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his concern genuine. "Both of you?"
The question—so simple, yet so telling in its focus on my wellbeing rather than accusations or demands—caught me off guard.
"We're fine," I answered, studying him more closely. The weight loss, the shadows under his eyes, the way he held himself as if every movement required calculation. "And you?"
"Managing," he replied with a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes.
He had suffered. For me. Because of me.
The air between us charged with unspoken words, with months of separation and years of misunderstanding. In his eyes, I saw a storm of emotions—regret, determination, and something else I'd spent our entire relationship searching for.
Elder North broke the moment. "This changes nothing. If anything, it makes formal dissolution more urgent. The child can be acknowledged without the mate bond."
Aiden turned to her, something dangerous flashing in his expression. "Enough."
The single word carried such Alpha command that even I felt its weight. Elder North actually took a step back, surprise evident on her face.
"We will discuss this privately," he continued, his tone brooking no argument. "All of us." His gaze included me in that statement—not a command, but a request.
