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I don’t believe in coincidences.
As I walk back, my mind races. Quinn’s actions and Aria’s strange behavior are all connected somehow. I replay the events of the past few days, trying to piece the puzzle together. Aria is usually so straightforward, so why is she hiding something now? And why is Quinn covering for her? Is it something about her past, or is it a threat that she’s keeping from us? The possibilities run through my mind, each one more unsettling than the last.
The more I think about it, the more it gnaws at me. Trust is a fragile thing in our line of work. Any crack in the foundation can bring the whole structure down. If Aria is hiding something, it could put all of us at risk. I need to confront her, but I need to be smart about it. Pushing too hard might make her retreat further into her secrets.
As I near the house, I realize this isn’t just about finding out what she’s hiding. It’s about understanding why. What could be so important that Aria feels the need to keep it from the rest of us? And why is Quinn, of all people, going to such lengths to help her?
I reach the house and take a deep breath. This isn’t just a simple investigation—it’s personal. Aria means a lot to me, more than I care to admit. Whatever she’s hiding, I need to know, for her sake and mine. If her secret could put any of us at risk, then I need to uncover it before it’s too late.
I can’t just go in the front, so I slink around back, hiding against the house as I do. I hear muttering and peer through the curtains, seeing Aria in panties and a T-shirt, doing the laundry.
That doesn’t seem suspicious, but it is.
Before Malachi went to pick her up, we all came back to the house and scrubbed the nest top to bottom and washed the sheets. I know they were washed because I was the one who washed them. Everything is clean and scent free. She has no reason to wash the laundry.
So why is she?
Maybe I’m looking too much into this, but I don’t think I am.
When she leaves the laundry room, and I hear her stomping up the steps, I sneak into my own fucking house and listen to the shower run.
She’s fucking singing.
It's oddly soothing, domestic in a way we haven't had in... well, a long time. The tune changes, and suddenly my chest tightens. It's that old ballad, the one J— I swallow hard, memories threatening to overwhelm me.
I need to check the sheets, and yet my feet have a mind of their own and take me to the steps, where I listen to her faint voice.
Fuck me. I need more.
I creep up the steps and press my ear to the nest. I really thought she’d say something. She didn’t. I don’t dare enter because we all decided we wouldn’t enter her room unless invited, but I want nothing more than to open this door and listen to her singing in the shower.
I feel like a creeper in my own damn house.
My heart pounds as I stand there with my ear pressed against the door, straining to hear every note of Aria’s voice. The melody is faint, muffled by the sound of running water, but it’s enough to send a shiver down my spine and all the blood straight to my cock. I close my eyes, letting her voice wash over me, and for a moment, I forget why I’m here.
Reality comes crashing back as the shower shuts off abruptly. I jerk away from the door, cursing under my breath. What the hell am I doing, spying on Aria like some lovesick fool? I need to focus on the task at hand—figuring out what she’s hiding.
I hurry back downstairs, making a beeline for the laundry room. The washer is still running, the rhythmic thump of wet clothes echoing in the small space. I lift the lid and peer inside at the soapy water and sodden sheets. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something. What if there’s more to this than just laundry?
I lean in and inhale. Nothing. There’s so much laundry detergent that it’s almost criminal.
I slam the lid shut in frustration, running a hand through my hair. This is getting me nowhere. I need to confront Aria directly, but the thought makes my stomach churn. If I push too hard, I risk alienating her, potentially compromising both our professional relationship and any chance of something more. But if I let this go, her secret could endanger us all. It’s like walking a tightrope, and I’m not sure I can maintain my balance.
Her footsteps creep down the stairs, and I toss myself behind the mudroom door and peer at her through the crack. She’s standing at the island, keys in hand, and she’s just staring at the island.
As I stand behind the door, I catch sight of Aria. Her pink hair is wet, dripping down her shoulders in messy strands, and she’s wearing leggings and an oversized sweater that swallows her petite frame. The sight of her like this, so unguarded and natural, sends a wave of conflicting emotions through me.
Dammit, Aria. Why do you have to be so effortlessly captivating?
Aria’s presence annoys me as much as it draws me in. It’s infuriating how she can look so disheveled yet still manage to take my breath away. I shake my head, pushing away the nagging feeling. Some betas just have that effect, I tell myself. It’s safer not to hope for more. We’ve been down that road before, and it nearly broke us.
I hate how she occupies my thoughts, and how just a glimpse of her makes my heart race and my mind whirl. There she is, standing in the dim light of the pack house, looking like she just stepped out of a dream, and all I can do is stare.
She doesn’t notice me. She’s lost in her own world, oblivious to my presence. For a moment, I forget why I’m here. I forget about the secrets, the suspicions, everything. All I see is her. Then the annoyance creeps back in. Why does she have this power over me? Why can’t I just focus on the mission without being distracted by her every move?
I clench my fists, trying to steady my breathing. My feelings for Aria are a paradox, a maddening blend of attraction and frustration. She’s not just a colleague or a potential mate. She’s become an enigma that both captivates and confounds me, disrupting the carefully ordered world I’ve built for myself. Every time I think I have a handle on my feelings, she does something that pulls me right back in. I remember the way she looked at me during training, the fire in her eyes, and the way my heart pounded against my chest. Dammit, Aria.
Why can’t I get you out of my head?
