Chapter 232 Promise what?
Aria’s POV
The moment Damian disappeared down the corridor with Rick, Elena turned to me with worried amber eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light of the entrance hall.
"How bad were his injuries?" she asked softly, her Luna instincts clearly on high alert.
I hesitated, my fingers twisting together. The truth sat heavy on my tongue.
But telling them would only make them worry more, and Damian had enough on his plate without his family spiraling into panic mode.
"He had some broken ribs and a concussion," I said carefully, keeping my voice steady even as my heart hammered against my ribcage. "The fall into the ocean was rough on him. But he’s healing well now."
Grace, Damian’s grandmother, studied me with sharp gray eyes that reminded me so much of her grandson it was almost unnerving.
"You’re not telling us everything, dear," she said quietly.
My heart skipped a beat. Of course she’d see through me. Wolves had an uncanny ability to sense deception.
"The important thing is that he’s safe now," I said, meeting her gaze head-on. I refused to look away, refused to show weakness. "And I intend to make sure he stays that way."
Elena reached out and squeezed my hand, her touch warm and maternal in a way that made my throat tighten unexpectedly.
"Thank you for taking care of him," she said, and the genuine warmth in her voice nearly undid me. "I can see how much you care about my son."
I swallowed hard against the sudden lump in my throat. "He’s my mate. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him."
The words came out fiercer than I’d intended, but they were true. Every single one of them.
Grace’s austere features softened into something resembling approval. "The Moon Goddess chose well."
Before I could respond—heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
I turned just as Damian emerged from the corridor, Rick at his side. My breath caught in my chest.
Something was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong.
"Damian?" I moved toward him instinctively. "What’s wrong?"
I needed to know. Needed to understand what had put that look on his face.
But he just walked straight to his father, leaning in to murmur something I couldn’t quite catch. Andrew’s expression darkened further—if that was even possible—and he gave a sharp nod before the two of them disappeared into a room off the main hallway.
The door clicked shut behind them with an ominous finality.
Twenty minutes crawled by like hours.
I paced. I sat. I paced again. Elena tried to make small talk, but the words slid off me like water off glass. All I could think about was what could possibly be happening behind that closed door.
Finally—finally—it opened.
Damian emerged first, and my heart sank straight through the floor.
If he’d looked bad before, he looked absolutely wrecked now. His face was still pale, but now there was something else lurking beneath the fury—something that looked suspiciously like fear. Or maybe grief.
The emotion flickered across his features so fast I couldn’t be sure, but it made my stomach twist into knots regardless.
Andrew followed close behind, his expression grim and unyielding.
I didn’t wait for an invitation. I crossed the distance between us in three quick strides and caught Damian’s arm. "What happened?"
He shook his head sharply. "Nothing."
"That’s not nothing." I kept my voice low, acutely conscious of the others watching us. "You look like you want to tear someone apart."
His eyes met mine, and for just a moment—just a heartbeat—I saw past the rage to something raw and vulnerable underneath. But then it was gone, shuttered behind that impenetrable wall he wore like armor.
"Not here," he said quietly, his hand covering mine where it gripped his forearm. His skin was warm, almost feverish. "Later. I promise."
I wanted to push. Wanted to demand answers right here and now because the fear coiling in my gut was becoming unbearable. But the tension radiating from him—from all of them—told me this wasn’t the time.
Whatever he and Andrew had discussed in that study had shaken him badly.
And that terrified me more than anything else could have.
Because Damian Blackwood didn’t shake easily.
Elena stepped forward, her maternal concern finally overriding whatever protocol had been holding her back. "Andrew? What’s going on?"
"We’ll discuss it tomorrow," Andrew said, his voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. It was the voice of an Alpha King, brooking no disobedience. "Right now, Damian needs rest."
Damian didn’t respond. He just turned to me, his hand sliding to the small of my back in a possessive gesture that sent heat pooling low in my belly despite everything. "Come on."
I let him guide me up the grand staircase, acutely aware of the worried glances following us. Whatever storm was brewing, it was big enough to rattle the entire Blackwood family.
And I had a sinking, terrible feeling we were standing right in the eye of it.
We stepped into Damian’s room, and he pulled away from me the moment the door closed.
He crossed to the window without a word, his shoulders tense and rigid, hands braced against the frame like he was physically holding himself together.
"Talk to me," I said softly, closing the door behind us with a quiet click. "Please, Damian."
"I can’t." His voice was rough, strained like he’d been shouting. Or screaming. "Not yet."
I moved closer, stopping just behind him. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, but not quite touching. "Is it about what happened in the study?"
His shoulders tensed even further, muscles coiling tight beneath his shirt.
"My father doesn’t know what’s going on either," he said flatly, still staring out at the darkening landscape. "Or at least, that’s what he claims."
"You don’t believe him?"
"I don’t know what to believe anymore." He turned to face me abruptly, and the raw pain in his eyes made my chest physically ache. "I can feel it, Aria. He’s hiding something from me. Something big."
I reached up and laid my hand against his cheek, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. "Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to carry this alone."
"I should be protecting you," he said, his voice dropping to something almost broken. "Not dragging you deeper into this mess."
"Too late for that." I tried for a smile, but it felt shaky on my lips. "I’m already in it. Have been since the moment you walked into that Crescent Moon Pack and turned my entire world upside down."
Something flickered across his face—gratitude, maybe, or relief—but before I could identify it, he was reaching for me, pulling me hard against his chest.
I went willingly, wrapping my arms around him and holding on tight. His heart was racing beneath my ear, pounding so hard I could feel it reverberating through my entire body.
"Promise me something," he said after a long moment, his breath stirring my hair.
I tilted my head back to look at him. "What?"