I watched Aria as she lay there, finally resting peacefully after the turmoil of the past days. Her breathing was soft, her face untroubled, and for once, she looked like nothing could touch her. But the thought of her nightmares, of what lurked in the shadows of her past, kept me rooted in place. I should leave—I knew she needed to sleep, undisturbed—but some instinct wouldn’t let me. What if the dreams returned? What if she woke up and I wasn’t here?
*Goddess,* I thought, running a hand over my face, trying to shake the overwhelming protectiveness gnawing at me.
Finally, with a deep breath, I turned and walked out of her room, careful not to make any noise that might wake her. Claire was waiting downstairs, looking weary but relieved.
“Aria’s sleeping soundly,” I told her, giving her a reassuring nod. “You should rest too, Claire. Make sure to take your medication before bed. I’ll check in tomorrow morning.”
She gave me a grateful smile, nodding. “Thank you, Magnus… for everything.”
With that, I walked out of the house, stepping into the cool night air where Fergus was waiting in the car. The sight of him was a reminder of the business at hand—the business of retribution. Fergus moved swiftly, opening the car door for me, and I slid in, my mind already preparing for what was coming.
As soon as we were settled, Fergus began his report, his expression as professional as ever.
“Damon Wayans,” he began, and the sound of that name was enough to ignite a familiar rage in me. “After that incident with Aria, he went underground for several years. It seems his family’s connections allowed him to avoid punishment, covering up every trace that could lead back to him. His father, Peter Wayans, pulled every string he had to keep Damon out of prison and shield him from the Alpha’s judgment.”