Chapter 227 We’ll figure it out
Aria’s POV
On the morning of the fourth day, I woke to find Damian already up and dressed, standing by the window with his arms crossed.
The bruises on his face had faded to a dull yellow, and the stitches above his eyebrow were barely visible.
He still moved carefully—his ribs were clearly still tender—but the difference from three days ago was staggering.
Wolves healed fast. I knew that intellectually. But seeing it in person was something else entirely.
"You’re up early," I said, pushing myself into a sitting position.
"I’m going back to Capital." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. Like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room.
I blinked. "What?"
"I got through to Rick last night. I called a number I hadn’t touched in twenty years—one no one alive would think to watch. The person on the other end set up an encrypted burner line for me, and I reached Rick through that.
The pack did riot, but my father and grandfather are there. Nothing spiraled out of control. That doesn’t mean we’re clean."
His jaw tightened. "Rick confirmed there’s an enemy inside. He wouldn’t say more over the line. I need to see him in person before this gets worse."
"Damian, you were being hunted four days ago.and your injuries haven’t fully healed yet."
I swung my legs out of bed, my heart starting to race. "You can barely move without wincing. How the hell are you planning to—"
"The most dangerous place is the safest place," he interrupted. "No one will expect me to go back to Capital this soon.
They’ll think I’m still hiding. Recovering. Which gives me the element of surprise—and a chance to hear everything Rick couldn’t say over a channel."
I stared at him, my mind racing. He was right—strategically, it made sense.
But emotionally?
The thought of him walking back into the city where someone had just tried to kill him made my stomach twist with fear.
"And what if they try again?" I asked quietly.
"Then I’ll be ready." His expression hardened. "I’m done running, Aria. I’m done hiding. It’s time to go on the offensive."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to beg him to stay here, in Ronan’s territory, where he was safe.
But I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Damian had made up his mind.
And honestly? I understood why.
Because staying hidden meant staying weak. And weakness was the one thing Damian couldn’t afford.
"Fine," I said finally. "But I’m coming with you."
His eyes narrowed. "Aria—"
"Don’t even try to argue with me." I crossed the room to stand in front of him, my chin lifted in defiance. "You think I’m letting you walk into a war zone alone? Not a chance."
For a moment, he just looked at me. Then his lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
"You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days, you know that?"
"Probably." I stepped closer, until I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. "But until then, you’re stuck with me."
He reached out and cupped my face in his hands, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. "I can live with that."
Then he kissed me, slow and deep, and I felt the world narrow down to just the two of us.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with something that made my pulse skip.
"Get dressed," he said softly. "We leave in an hour."
---
Saying goodbye to Ronan was harder than I’d expected.
The big Alpha met us at the front entrance of the pack house, Isla at his side.
He looked like he’d just come back from a run—his hair was damp with sweat, and there was dirt smudged across his jaw.
"Leaving so soon?" Ronan’s voice was light, but I could hear the concern underneath. "You sure you’re healed enough?"
"I’m sure." Damian clasped his hand in a firm grip. "I reached Rick. Father and Grandfather kept the pack from coming apart, but there’s an enemy inside. He needs me there in person." A beat. "Thank you for the hospitality. And the discretion."
"You don’t need to thank me." Ronan’s expression turned serious. "But you do need to be careful. Whoever came after you isn’t going to stop just because you survived."
"I know." Damian’s jaw tightened. "Which is why I need to get back before they make their next move."
Ronan nodded slowly, then glanced at me. "You take care of him, Aria. He’s too stubborn to take care of himself."
"I’ve noticed," I said dryly.
Isla stepped forward and pulled me into a brief hug. "Stay safe. And if you ever need a place to disappear to again, you know where to find us."
"Thank you," I said, meaning it.
She pulled back and gave me a knowing look. "He’s lucky to have you, you know."
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just smiled.
Damian and Ronan exchanged a few more words—something about keeping an eye on the northern territories and watching for unusual pack movements.
Then Ronan mentioned the tattoo.
"I had my people look into it," he said quietly. "The design you described. It’s not a pack mark. At least not one that’s registered with the Council."
Damian’s expression darkened. "So it’s either a rogue group, or someone operating off the books."
"Most likely." Ronan hesitated. "But there’s something else. One of my older wolves—he fought in the Succession Wars—he said he’d seen that symbol before. A long time ago. He couldn’t remember where, but he said it made his skin crawl."
A chill ran down my spine.
"I’ll keep digging," Ronan continued. "If I find anything, I’ll let you know."
"Appreciated." Damian clapped him on the shoulder one last time, then turned toward the waiting SUV.
I followed, my mind churning with questions I didn’t have answers to.
The drive to the airstrip was short—less than twenty minutes through dense forest and winding mountain roads. Ronan’s private jet was already waiting, sleek and black against the gray morning sky.
Damian helped me up the stairs, his hand warm and steady on my lower back.
The interior was just as luxurious as I’d expected—leather seats, polished wood paneling, soft lighting that made everything feel intimate and secluded.
The pilot greeted us briefly, then disappeared into the cockpit. The engines roared to life, and within minutes we were taxiing down the runway.
I settled into one of the seats near the window, watching as the ground fell away beneath us.
Ronan’s territory spread out below like a patchwork quilt—endless forest broken up by rivers and mountains and the occasional cluster of buildings.
It was beautiful. Wild. Untamed.
Just like the wolves who lived there.
Damian sat down across from me, his eyes fixed on my face. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I exhaled slowly. "Just... thinking."
"About?"
"Everything." I turned to look at him. "The tattoo. The hunt. The fact that someone out there wants you dead and we have no idea who."
"We’ll figure it out." His voice was calm, confident. Like there was no doubt in his mind.
I wished I had his certainty.