I Am His Wolfless Luna Chapter 110

Aria's POV

I smoothed my hands over my jeans one last time as Leo held the restaurant door open for me. The evening air was still warm against my skin as we stepped from the parking lot into the upscale establishment. Crystal chandeliers hung from ornate ceilings, casting a warm glow over tables draped in pristine white tablecloths.

"You didn't tell me we were going somewhere this fancy," I whispered to Leo as the host approached us with a practiced smile.

Leo shrugged, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort. "You deserve nice things, Aria."

I glanced down at my simple t-shirt and jeans, suddenly feeling painfully underdressed. The few other women I could see were wearing cocktail dresses and heels, their jewelry catching the light with every movement. Meanwhile, I still had a smudge of dirt on my knee from hiding in the bushes earlier.

"Reservation for Leo," Leo told the host confidently, resting his hand lightly on the small of my back.

"You okay?" Leo asked once we were seated, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied my face. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired from training today."

Leo nodded, though his expression remained concerned. The waiter approached with menus and a practiced smile.

"Would you like to start with something to drink? Perhaps a bottle of wine?"

Leo glanced at me expectantly. "They have an excellent Cabernet that would pair beautifully with their steak."

My stomach lurched at the mere thought of alcohol. "Just water for me, thanks."

Leo's eyebrows shot up. "Really? No wine?" His eyes narrowed slightly, studying my face. "That's not like you."

"I'm in training," I replied quickly—too quickly, perhaps. I forced myself to meet his gaze steadily. "Alcohol dehydrates, and I need to stay in top condition."

"Ah, of course." Leo nodded, though his expression remained skeptical. He ordered a glass of wine for himself before the waiter departed.

As soon as we were alone, Leo leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "Now that we have some privacy, want to tell me what's really going on? You've been avoiding my calls, canceling the training sessions for weeks."

I took a deliberately slow sip of water, buying myself precious seconds to compose my thoughts. The cool liquid soothed my parched throat but did nothing for the churning anxiety in my gut.

"I've been thinking about the upcoming match," I began carefully, setting my glass down with a gentle click against the table. "And I've decided to postpone competing."

"Postpone?" Leo's voice rose enough that a couple at a nearby table glanced over. He noticed and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "For how long exactly?"

I traced the condensation on my water glass with my fingertip, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "Ten months. Maybe a year."

"A year?" Leo's expression darkened, disbelief and frustration warring across his features. "Aria, that's not postponing—that's abandoning the entire plan! You've been training for this specifically. The timing is perfect. You're in your prime right now."

The waiter approached with impeccable timing, pen poised over his small notepad. "Are you ready to order?"

Leo barely glanced at him. "Give us a few more minutes."

Once the waiter retreated, Leo leaned closer, his voice urgent. "The Northern Territory Alpha and his council will be at this match. This is your chance to prove your worth to them, to secure your future. But anyways, maybe you are just a little bit crazy these days. Talk some relaxing things. The seafood platter here is exceptional," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, flipping open his menu again. "The seared scallops in particular—"

"I don't want seafood," I interrupted, my stomach clenching at the thought. Another pregnancy-induced aversion to add to my growing list.

Leo frowned, genuine confusion crossing his features. "Since when? You love seafood."

"Not anymore." I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "I've been craving simpler food lately. Maybe just a pasta dish or something."

"Aria," Leo set down his menu with deliberate care, his expression turning serious. "What's really going on? First you cancel all our training sessions, then you refuse wine, now you're turning down your favorite foods and talking about delaying your career for a year?" His eyes searched mine with an intensity that made me want to squirm. "Are you sick? Is that what this is about?"

My pulse quickened. He was too close to the truth, coming at it from an angle I hadn't anticipated. "I'm not sick," I said carefully. "I'm just... reassessing my priorities right now."

"Is it Lucas? Did something happen?" His concern seemed genuine, which only made this harder.

I sighed, running my thumb along the edge of the tablecloth. "Lucas is fine. This isn't about him—not directly, anyway." I straightened my shoulders, finding my resolve. "Leo, I appreciate everything you've done for me. Really. But I need to make some changes, and competing isn't part of my plan right now."

"This isn't like you," he insisted, leaning forward with such intensity that I instinctively moved back in my chair. "The Aria I know would never walk away from an opportunity like this." Leo's face hardened. "Or maybe someone else is influencing your decisions." His eyes narrowed. "Is this about Ethan?"

I felt my cheeks burn hot, a wave of heat crawling up my neck as my fingers curled into fists under the table. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was sure Leo could hear it.

"This has nothing to do with Ethan," I snapped, the words coming out sharper than I intended. I took a quick breath, fighting to control my voice. "This is about me. My life. My choices." I tapped my chest for emphasis, leaning forward over the table.

"Then why won't you tell me what's really going on?" His voice rose to match mine, the words carrying across the quiet restaurant. Leo continued, "We've been friends for six years, Aria. Six years! I've supported you when no one else would. I've trained you, believed in you." He jabbed a finger against the tablecloth. "I think I deserve some damn honesty."

My mouth opened to fire back, but I caught myself, suddenly aware of how many people were watching our argument unfold. I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to take a slow breath through my nose.

The waiter hovered a few feet away, shifting his weight from foot to foot, clearly torn between approaching our table and pretending not to notice the rising tension. His eyes darted between us before he finally squared his shoulders and stepped forward, plastering on a professional smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Would you like to order now?" he asked, his voice unnaturally bright as he poised his pen over his notepad.

"Just pasta for me," I said quickly, latching onto the interruption like a lifeline. "Whatever's simple. And more water, please." My throat felt suddenly parched, as if all the arguing had dried me out.

Leo didn't even glance at the menu. "Ribeye. Medium rare." His eyes never left my face, even as the waiter nodded and backed away from our table with obvious relief.

"Look," I finally said, my voice softer now, almost pleading. I reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, buying myself another second to think. "I didn't come here to fight with you."

I looked up, meeting his gaze directly. His eyes were still guarded, but some of the anger had faded, replaced by something that looked almost like fear.

"I need time, Leo." The words came out just above a whisper. "Time to figure some things out. I'm asking you—" my throat tightened unexpectedly, "—as my friend, to respect that."

Leo's shoulders slumped slightly. He looked down at his hands, then back up at me, his expression wounded.

"You're hiding something from me," he said quietly, the hurt in his voice making my chest ache with guilt. "After everything we've been through together... I thought we were beyond secrets."

I was about to respond when a voice sliced through our conversation like ice water down my spine.

"Well, well, well... what a positively _adorable_ little dinner date we have here."

The restaurant seemed to fall silent around us. My muscles tensed instinctively, shoulders drawing tight. I knew that voice.

I turned slowly, my fingers gripping the edge of the table for support.

Bella stood beside our table, one hip cocked at a calculated angle that emphasized her impossibly tiny waist. The restaurant's soft lighting caught the diamonds at her throat and wrists, sending prisms of light dancing across the white tablecloth.

"Fancy running into you here, sister dear," she purred, dragging out the word 'sister' until it sounded like a slur.