Chapter Nine– The Rules He Breaks
Aaden stood across the street from the bookstore, a ghost in the shadows.
From here, he could see her—still inside, her silhouette framed by the golden glow of the reading lamps.
She hadn't moved in a while. Probably still holding the note.
He hadn't planned to leave it.
He never did things like that. Never left evidence. Never reached out.
But she was different.
Something about her presence—so still and yet so loud to him—had cracked something open he didn't know was sealed.
Her eyes held a sadness that echoed his own. Her silence felt familiar.
Dangerous.
Softly dangerous.
He turned and walked, blending into the streets of Larkspur like he always did.
Coat pulled tight, head down, invisible to those who didn't know where to look.
The society wouldn't approve of this.
Contact with an unknown.
Especially her—the girl they already whispered about.
She didn't know it yet, but she was part of something older, darker. And if she kept asking the right questions—or stepping into the wrong places—she'd find it. Or worse, it would find her.
He wasn't supposed to care.
He wasn't supposed to notice the way her fingers lingered on book spines like they were sacred, or how she smiled quietly to herself like she had a world inside her no one else could see.
But he had noticed.
And he'd broken one of his own rules.
Don't get involved.
The letter had been small. Just a few words. But it was the closest thing to a confession he'd allowed himself in years.
"You're not as alone here."
Because he wasn't either.
As he turned down the alley that led to the back entrance of the society's meeting house, the night folded around him. Familiar voices, coded knocks, shadows shifting in rhythm. The city's heartbeat.
He passed under an old stone archway, touched the sigil carved into the side—an hourglass and flame—and stepped inside.
The society's chamber was cold, the air thick with the scent of old paper and older secrets.
A voice echoed through the room, low and clear:
"You broke protocol."
Aaden didn't flinch. He expected this.
Another voice, silkier. "She's not ready to know who she is. You've jeopardized everything."
He looked up, face calm, eyes cold.
"Then maybe," he said, "everything wasn't as unshakable as you thought."
Silence.
And then a ripple of approval from the dark. Or maybe it was warning.
Either way, the night had shifted.
And for the first time in a long time, Aaden had hope too.
But he knew one thing for certain now.
Aaralyn wasn't safe.
And neither was he.