Chapter 2 Why is he everywhere?

Lena POV

The Brother Who Looks Like Sin.

“Aaron!”

The voice cut through the noise like a blade calm, authoritative, final.

My head snapped up before I could stop it.

There he was.

Same dark hair, same sharp jaw, same infuriating bloodline. 

But older. Cleaner. The version of Aaron that never learned how to hurt people for fun.

He was tall. Ridiculous tall. I’d have to stand on my toes to reach his collarbone, and I’m not short.

“Let her go,” he ordered, stepping forward. Hazel eyes locked on me first, then dropped to Aaron’s fingers bruising my wrist.

For half a second, I forgot how to breathe.

I’d seen Adam walker on magazine covers, in business journals, always three steps behind his younger brother in the headlines. Never this close. Never real.

He moved like power was normal. Like the world bent slightly to make room for him.

When his hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder, the grip on my wrist loosened. Not enough. But enough for me to wrench free, stumbling back a step.

Aaron’s glare didn’t leave me. Furious, possessive, unhinged.

Adam’s gaze was different. Calculating. It slid over me like he was weighing damage and deciding what to do about it.

For a heartbeat, something moved between us. Understanding. Pity. 

Or maybe just two people tired of being judged for choices they didn’t make.

“That’s no way to treat a woman,” Adam said. His voice was quiet. That was what made it worse.

Aaron shook him off like he was an annoyance. “Stick to the library, brother. Stay out of this.”

But his eyes stayed on me. Hungry. Angry. Like I was the problem for existing.

Adam’s brows lifted a fraction. Then his hand closed around my arm, pulling me to his side in one smooth motion.

Heat shot up my skin where he touched me.

My wolf jolted awake, hackles rising, head snapping up. She recognized threat. She recognized something else too, and I hated that.

“Offer your condolences to the late Alpha,” Adam said, voice low enough that only Aaron and I could hear. “Instead of cornering a girl who doesn’t want you."

It was a mockery. Surgical.

Aaron’s face twisted. His fists clenched at his sides. 

His eyes dropped to my wrist, still pink where he’d held me, now covered by Adam’s hand.

He went still. The kind of still that came right before he broke something.

He licked his lower lip. Ran a hand through his hair.

Anxious. Just like before. Just like the nights he’d pace my room and tell me I was his, like saying it enough would make it true.

He opened his mouth.

“Babe.”

The word hit like a detonation.

Xandra.

She glided in from behind Aaron, heels clicking on the stone path with infuriating precision. 

Her eyes found me instantly, and her lips curled.

In one practiced motion, her arm locked through Aaron’s. She leaned into him, smiling for anyone watching. Perfect fiancée. Perfect mask.

A reminder.

He chose her.

Pain flared hot and stupid in my chest. I couldn’t look at them together. 

Couldn’t breathe with them breathing the same air. If I stayed one more second, I’d say something I couldn’t take back.

Aaron’s jaw ticked. His eyes hovered between Adam, Xandra, and me, like he was trying to hold onto his anger because it was safer than what else he felt.

“Oh, look who we have here,” Xandra said, voice dripping sugar and poison. “If it isn’t—”

Adam turned me away before she could finish.

“You look like you need a drink,” he murmured, hand still steady on my arm. “Come on. 

Something warm. It’s not every day you see a familiar face at a funeral.”

I didn’t answer. My throat was too tight. 

All I wanted was out. Out of this place, out of their orbit, out of the version of myself that flinched when Aaron looked at me.

“I have an early flight,” I lied. Took half a step back.

“You have a problem with Aaron, don’t you?”

It wasn’t a question. His eyes were soft, but there was no missing the sharpness behind them. 

Like he’d already put the pieces together.

I stayed silent.

Silence was an answer.

He exhaled through his nose. “He’s rogue. But he can be sweet.”

“Aaron?” I cut in, voice sharper than I meant. “Or do you mean the devil?”

That got a reaction. A low chuckle, barely there. It rolled over me and did something dangerous to my pulse.

“That makes me one too,” he said. “You’re the only angel I’ve seen.”

Heat rushed to my face. Stupid. Traitorous.

I hated how easily he said it. Hated how part of me wanted to believe it.

Up close, he was worse. Sharper jawline. Smoother skin. 

The kind of man who’d never had to fight for anything and didn’t know how to look guilty about it.

I should walk away. I needed to walk away.

I wasn’t recovered from Aaron. I wasn’t ready to want anyone else. 

Especially not his brother. Especially not the one man who could make this mess ten times worse.

But Adam was already leading me toward the garden, away from the cemetery, away from Xandra’s eyes and Aaron’s barely contained rage.

My feet moved before I told them to.

The garden was quieter. Safer. A low wooden table waited under the canopy, set like someone had expected company. A steaming pot of tea. A plate of honey-drizzled pastries.

“Looks like you were expecting a guest,” I said, sinking into the chair he pulled out for me.

“Maybe I was,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “And you stole the spotlight.”

He was nothing like Aaron.

That was the problem.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Adam said, sliding a cup toward me. His fingers brushed mine for half a second. Not accidental.

I wrapped both hands around the cup, letting the heat sink into my palms. Letting it ground me.

As I took a sip, I caught him watching. Not with lust. Not with pity.

With recognition.

Like he could see the cracks I’d spent three years cementing over. Like he knew what it cost to stand here and pretend I was fine.

I set the cup down too hard. Tea sloshed over the rim.

“I can’t do this,” I said.

“Do what?”

“Pretend. That running into you at a funeral is normal. That you touching me doesn’t feel like—” I cut myself off.

“Like what, Lena?”

“Like I’m about to make the same mistake twice.”

His expression didn’t change. But something in his eyes did. It went darker. More focused.

“You think I’m like him,” he said. Not a question.

“I think you’re his brother,” I said back. “And brothers protect each other.”

“Not this one.”

The words were flat.

Behind us, voices rose. Aaron’s voice. Xandra’s laugh, too high, too fake.

Adam didn’t look back.

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” he said. “I’m asking you to let me get you out of here before he decides the cemetery is a good place to finish what he started.”

My heart stuttered. Because he was right.

Aaron didn’t walk away from things. He broke them first.

I glanced past Adam. Xandra was staring at us now, her smile gone. Aaron was watching too, and the look on his face made my stomach drop.

“Fine,” I said before I could overthink it. “But not because I trust you.”

“Good,” Adam said. “Trust gets people killed in this family.”

He stood, offering his hand.

I stared at it. At the clean nails, the steady wrist, the absence of bruises.

Then I took it.

His grip was firm. Warm. Nothing like Aaron’s.

As we left the garden, I felt it—Aaron’s gaze burning into my back.

Adam felt it too. His thumb brushed over my knuckles once, barely there.

“Don’t look back,” he said quietly.

I didn’t.

But my chest hurt anyway.