Chapter 47: The Visitor
The silence on the line stretched, thick and suffocating.Aurora’s knuckles were white around her phone. She could hear the low rumble of an engine in the background on his end, the sound of him moving.
“She came to your door?” Rhys’s voice was different. Stripped of its usual easy gravel, it was flat, hard.Like polished stone.“Y-yes.She said her name was Elena. She said… she said you were broken.” The words tumbled out, too loud in her quiet living room. She pressed a hand over her eyes, the lingering scent of lavender from her lotion now clashing with the memory of Elena’s cold, floral perfume.Another beat of silence. Then the distinct, heavy sound of a car door slamming. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Stay there.Don’t open the door for anyone. I’m coming to you.”
“Rhys, you don’t have to—”
“Aurora.” His voice cut through, a note of alpha command in it that made her breath catch. It wasn’t cruel, but it was immovable.“I’m already in my truck.Twenty minutes.Sit tight.”
The call ended. She stood in the center of her living room, adrift. The cozy safety of her nest, which had felt like a haven moments before, now seemed flimsy, too exposed. She wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers digging into her own sides. The ghost of his scent on her skin—now muted by the hours that had passed—was the only thing that felt solid.
She didn’t move. She listened to the hum of her refrigerator, the faint tick of a cooling pipe in the wall.Every distant footfall in the apartment hallway made her spine stiffen.
Exactly nineteen minutes later, a low, familiar purr of an engine sounded from the street below.Her heart leapt. She hurried to the window, peering through the blinds. His black pickup, hulking and streaked with road dust, was double-parked, its lights cutting off. The driver’s side door opened, and he unfolded himself from the cab.Even from three stories up, he looked tense. The set of his shoulders was rigid, his stride as he crossed the sidewalk swift and purposeful. He didn’t look up.She heard the buzzer, a sharp, insistent sound. She pressed the button to unlock the inner door, her hand trembling.
A minute later, a firm knock rattled her apartment door.She opened it.
He filled the doorway, the hallway light casting his face in sharp angles. He was still in his work clothes—dark jeans stained with a few fresh grease marks, a tight gray t-shirt stretched across his chest. His eyes, usually warm with amusement, were a stormy, dark slate.They scanned her face, her body, a rapid, assessing sweep. Seeing if she was hurt.
“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, but the undercurrent of tension was still there.“Hi.” The word was a whisper.
He stepped inside, and she closed the door behind him, engaging the deadbolt with a loud, definitive click. The sound seemed to release something in him. He turned to her, and the full force of his presence hit her—not just his size, but the controlled intensity rolling off him. He smelled of cold night air, exhaust, and that deep, essential scent of his, now edged with something sharp and protective.
He didn’t touch her.Not yet.He just looked at her, his jaw working. “Tell me everything she said.Don’t leave anything out.”
She did. She repeated Elena’s words about him being incapable of commitment, a broken alpha. Her own voice grew steadier as she spoke, fueled by a spark of indignation that cut through the fear. “She was so sure of herself,” Aurora finished, hugging herself again. “Like she knew you better than anyone ever could.”
A low sound rumbled in Rhys’s chest. It wasn’t a growl, but something close.He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. “Elena has a talent for rewriting history to suit herself.” He exhaled, a long, heavy breath.“Tracking you down… showing up here… that’s a line. A big fucking line.”
He finally moved.One step closed the distance between them. His hands came up, not to pull her in, but to cradle her face. His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones, his touch surprisingly gentle against the hard set of his expression.“Are you okay? Really?”
The concern in his eyes undid her.A tremble ran through her, and she nodded, leaning into his palms. “I was scared when she was here.But now… I’m just mad. For you.”
A faint, surprised smirk touched his lips.“Yeah?”
“Yes. She doesn’t get to say those things. She doesn’t know you.”
The smirk faded into something more serious, more raw.He searched her face. “You believe that?”
“I believe what I see,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “What I feel.”
Something in his gaze fractured, the hard edifice of his anger softening at the edges.He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. The contact was intimate, grounding. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the slight tremor in his own hands where they held her.
“She cheated, Aurora,” he said, the words rough, spoken into the tiny space between them.“For months. With one of my so-called friends.The ‘broken’ thing… that’s her script. So she can sleep at night.”
Her heart ached for him, a sharp, sudden pang.She understood now. The guardedness, the initial reluctance.It wasn’t about being broken. It was about being shattered and having to piece himself back together.“I’m sorry she hurt you,” Aurora whispered.
He shook his head slightly, their foreheads still pressed together. “I’m sorry she dragged you into it. That ends now.” He pulled back, his hands sliding from her face to her shoulders, down her arms until he caught her hands in his. “You don’t ever have to deal with that again.If she comes near you, you call me.Immediately. You don’t talk to her.You don’t listen. You just call.”
“Okay.”
“Say it.”
“I’ll call you.Immediately.”
He nodded, satisfied. Some of the rigid tension bled from his shoulders. He lifted one of her hands, turning it over to press a kiss to the center of her palm. The gesture was so tender, so at odds with the fierce protectiveness of moments before, that her breath caught.
“You smell like my girl,” he murmured against her skin, his eyes closing for a second as he inhaled.“All through this place.Good.”
He was right. Her nest, her home—it was saturated with their combined scent now that he was here, the sweetness of her vanilla and lavender woven through with his dominant, earthy tones. It felt more secure than it ever had.
He finally pulled her into a proper hug, his arms wrapping completely around her, engulfing her. She melted against him, her face buried in his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. The last of the fear seeped out of her, replaced by a profound, dizzying safety.After a long moment, he spoke, his voice a vibration against her ear. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”
It wasn’t a question. A thrill shot through her, warm and liquid. “You’re staying?”
“On your couch, if you want.Or I can just sit in the truck outside. But I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned back to look at her, his expression open, leaving the choice with her.
The thought of him leaving, of the empty apartment after the adrenaline of the day, was unbearable. But the thought of him crammed on her small sofa…
“Stay here,” she said, her voice firm for the first time all evening. “With me.”
His eyes darkened, but with warmth now, not storm clouds.He traced the line of her jaw with his knuckle. “Your nest,” he said.“It’s yours. I don’t want to…”
“It’s better with you in it,” she interrupted, the boldness of the words surprising even her.
A slow, genuine smile finally broke across his face, erasing the last traces of hardness. It was a little weary, a lot relieved.“Alright, sweet girl.” He kissed her forehead. “Then that’s where I’ll be.”