Chapter 43: The Apology
The front door clicked shut, sealing out the city sounds and the lingering scent of Rhys’s truck exhaust. Inside, the apartment felt too quiet, the hum of the refrigerator too loud.Aurora dropped her duffel bag by the couch, the thump echoing in the strained silence.
Rina paced the length of the small living room, her boots marking a tense path over the worn rug.She wasn’t growling anymore, but the energy coming off her was static, sharp. She ran a hand over her short hair, exhaling hard.“A cabin, Rory. A fucking cabin.”
“I know,” Aurora said softly, hovering near the kitchenette. “It was… spontaneous.My phone died. I just forgot to charge it.”
“You forgot.” Rina stopped pacing, pinning Aurora with a look that was more exhausted than angry now. “You live your life by timetables and tea rituals. You don’t ‘forget.’ He made you forget.”
Aurora’s cheeks warmed.That was too close to the truth. The entire weekend had felt like a dream where normal rules didn’t apply. Time had dissolved in the cedar-scented air of Rhys’s bed.“He didn’t make me do anything. I wanted to be there.” She forced herself to meet Rina’s gaze. “He was good to me.”
Rina studied her, the alpha’s eyes missing nothing—the new softness in Aurora’s posture, the lack of anxiety in her scent, the subtle, satisfied glow under her skin that no amount of innocence could hide.“Yeah,” Rina said finally, the word gruff. “I can smell that on you. That he… that you were…”
Aurora looked down, her fingers plucking at her hoodie sleeve. The admission hung in the air, as tangible as the dust motes dancing in the late sun. It was one thing for Rina to suspect; it was another for the reality of it to be so plainly understood.
“Shit,” Rina muttered, collapsing onto the arm of the couch. The fight seemed to drain out of her completely, leaving behind a weary concern.“Okay.Okay, just… talk to me.From the beginning. The app, the meeting, all of it.”
So Aurora did. Her voice was halting at first, but grew steadier as she spoke. She told Rina about matching with Rhys, about the direct, quiet way he’d asked her out, bypassing the crude chat so many others dove into. She described the diner, his calm, his size, the way his presence had felt like an anchor instead of a threat. She skipped the most intimate details of the cabin, but the blush on her neck and the way her scent sweetened told their own story.
Rina listened, her expression shifting from guarded to pensive.She didn’t interrupt, just let the words fill the quiet room. When Aurora finished, Rina was silent for a long moment, staring at a crack in the plaster on the opposite wall.“He’s not what I expected,” Rina admitted finally. “From the site, I figured you’d meet some corporate dickhead in a suit, or a gym rat with more ego than sense. Not a… mechanic with a cabin.”
“He fixes things,” Aurora said quietly, as if that explained everything.Maybe it did.
“I noticed.” Rina stood up, the restless energy gone.“I’m getting pizza. You’re paying for my emotional distress.” She managed a half-smile, and the remaining tension snapped.
They settled on the floor around the coffee table, cardboard box open, the greasy, savory smell of pepperoni filling the apartment. Aurora curled her legs under her, picking the cheese off a slice. The normalcy of it—Rina here, pizza, the fuzzy throw blanket over her lap—was a balm.
“You know why I went off like that out there?” Rina said around a mouthful of pizza.
“Because I’m an idiot who didn’t call.”
“Because you’re you,” Rina corrected, pointing her crust at Aurora. “For years, it’s been my job—my choice, my honor—to make sure the world doesn’t chew you up and spit you out.You see the good in everything.You trust. That’s a beautiful thing, Rory, but it’s also a blinking neon sign for predators. And most alphas out there?They’re predators.”
Aurora stared at her pizza. “Rhys isn’t.”
“I’m starting to get that,” Rina conceded, wiping her hands on a napkin. “The way he stood there… he didn’t challenge me, not directly. He just held his ground.For you.That’s… different. It doesn’t mean I trust him yet.But I trust you. And I have to get used to the idea that maybe, someone else is gonna be looking out for you now.”
The words settled over Aurora, warm and heavy. She thought of Rhys’s large hands, so careful with her. The way he’d listened.The unshakable calm he carried like a second skin. “He doesn’t replace you,” Aurora said, her voice thick. “Nothing ever could.”
“Damn right.” Rina nudged her foot with a boot.“I’m irreplaceable.But his role? That’s different. And I gotta let it be different, even if it makes my alpha brain itch.” She sighed, a real, deep sigh. “Just… promise me you’ll keep your phone charged.And if anything ever feels wrong, you run.You call me. No hesitation.”
“I promise.” Aurora leaned over, wrapping her arms around Rina’s shoulders in a tight hug.Rina hugged back fiercely, the scent of firehouse smoke and citrus shampoo enveloping Aurora. “Thank you,” Aurora whispered.“For what? Being an overbearing asshole?”
“For caring.” Aurora pulled back, a playful glint in her hazel eyes. “And you know, you can still take care of me anytime. Rescue me from boring lectures, bring me soup when I’m sick, threaten any beta who looks at me wrong.”
Rina barked a laugh, the sound bright and real.“Oh, that’ll never stop. That’s my lifelong gig.” She grabbed another slice.“Now eat your pizza. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”
Later, after Rina had left with a final, stern look and a squeeze of her hand, Aurora cleaned up the cardboard box and empty cans. The apartment was quiet again, but it felt different now.Lighter.Accepted.
She picked up her phone from where it had been charging, forgotten, on her nightstand. The screen lit up, showing a single new message, received an hour ago.Rhys: Let me know you’re still alive over there.
She smiled, a flutter waking in her chest.She typed back, her fingers feeling clumsy.
Aurora: I’m alive.Pizza was had.Alpha peace talks were successful.
The reply came almost immediately.Rhys: Good.Get some sleep, good girl.
She read the two words over and over, feeling them seep into her bones.Good girl. In her mouth, they tasted like pepperoni and cheap pizza.In her heart, they felt like cedar smoke and safety. She held the phone against her chest and looked around her safe, lavender-scented apartment. It was the same. She was not.