Chapter 26: Chapter 26 What are you doing here?
Aria’s POV
We claimed two seats at the bar, and Rachel ordered us both gin and tonics.
"To putting bitches in their place," she declared, raising her glass.
"To good friends who have your back," I countered.
We clinked glasses and drank.
The gin was sharp and cold, exactly what I needed. The bartender, a guy in his twenties with impressive tattoos, kept them coming without us having to ask.
Three drinks in, Rachel’s expression shifted.
"So." She turned to face me fully. "Are we going to talk about it?"
My stomach dropped. "Talk about what?"
"Aria." Her voice gentled. "Come on."
I took another long sip. "I don’t know what you mean."
"Yes, you do." She caught my wrist gently. "Ethan. Clara. All of it."
The name hit like a physical blow.
I tried to pull away, but Rachel held firm.So I told her everything.
"That son of a bitch."Rachel’s voice rose.
"You’re his True Mate. You! And he chose to Mark someone else? To have a kid with her? While keeping you around like some—some backup plan?"
"How dare he.That bastard. I’m going to kill him."
"Keep your voice down," I hissed, glancing around. "Don’t worry. I’m already making him pay."
Rachel grabbed my hand, squeezing hard. "Good. That’s good, Aria. That bastard doesn’t know what he’s lost. He picked up a penny and threw away a diamond."
A laugh bubbled up in my chest, sharp and unexpected. "A diamond, huh?"
"A whole damn mine." She raised her glass. "This calls for a celebration."
"Absolutely." I clinked my glass against hers, the sound sharp in the din of the bar.
We ordered another round.
Then another.
By the time we stumbled out of The Melody Lounge around midnight, I was pleasantly drunk and Rachel was reciting a very passionate speech about how all men were trash and we should just buy an island together.
The cool night air hit me again and I nearly stumbled.
"Careful," Rachel muttered, her own balance not exactly steady.
"I’ll get an Uber," I said, fumbling for my phone.
"You sure? I can ride with you—"
"It’s fine. You live in the opposite direction."
Rachel hesitated, then pulled me into a hug. "Call me tomorrow, okay? We’re going to figure this out."
"Okay."
She waved down a cab and climbed in, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.
I stared at my phone, trying to focus enough to open the app. The screen kept blurring.
Then I heard footsteps.
Heavy. Measured.
I looked up.
And froze.
Damian Blackwood stood at the curb beside a sleek black car, his hands in his pockets, his dark gray eyes fixed on me.
"What—" I blinked. "What are you doing here?"
"Picking you up," he said simply.
"I didn’t call you."
"I know."
My alcohol-soaked brain tried to process this. Failed. "How did you even know where I was?"
"I have my ways." His gaze swept over me, taking in my unsteady stance, my flushed cheeks. "You’re drunk."
"Maybe."
"Definitely."
He moved closer, and I caught his scent. Cedar and lavender. It made my head spin in an entirely different way.
"Come on," he said, his voice lower now. "Let’s get you home."
I should have argued. Should have insisted on calling my own ride.
But I was tired. So tired.
And he was here.
"Okay," I whispered.
Damian’s hand settled on the small of my back, steadying me as he guided me toward the car.
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