010

~ LAIA ~

Nothing is as annoying as being the constant messenger every time the High Priestess wants something. I mean, is there something special written on my face or what? I’ve lost count of how many times she specifically points me out the door to run her errands.

At first, I thought it was casual, but now it’s way too constant to be a coincidence. Just call me Mercury and give me my winged sandals.

Walking past the training field, my heart does that stupid loud thump again. It’s ridiculous how it always reacts this way whenever he’s around. Damon. The word bounces around in my empty, stupid head.

He’s by the faucet, head bent, water running over his hair and streaming down his neck and shoulders. The sight shouldn’t make my breath hitch, but it does. I tell myself not to stare, to just keep walking, but resisting him has become one of my most hopeless habits.

Like a spark, the image of him and his mate flashes in my mind, the one I found in that old storage room. I still wonder what happened to her. Did she leave? Did she die? Damn my curiosity for never letting it go.

My eyes land on his neck, on the mark, the faint trace of a mate bond. It’s there, but fading. How did I never notice it before? I’ve seen him plenty of times, memorized every line of his face, the way his black eyebrows lower when he thinks, the way his lower lip is fuller than the upper one, the way his eyes narrow on me sometimes..

He stops washing, straightens, and suddenly I freeze.

Oh no. My cue to leave. Move before he looks up. Before he catches me staring again.

I take one step.

“Laia.”

My heart flips so hard it might just break a rib. Did I, did I just hear my name? From him?

I turn around slowly, the back of my neck on fire, taking in the sight of him with a towel in his hand, wiping the droplets trailing down his face. His hair is a little messy, damp and wild., Gods help me.

For a second, I think I imagined it. But no, his lips definitely moved. He did call my name.

I honestly thought we’d just keep doing our usual routine: me staring, him pretending not to notice, both of us silently existing in our awkward bubble. But now, his eyes are on me, and he actually called my name. His expression is calm. Too calm. Like he didn’t just make my heart do backflips.

Oh fuck. He’s actually greeting me.

My brain scrambles for words. What the hell do I even say?

'Hey Alpha, so random question, who’s the woman in that photo I found? Your mate, maybe?'

Yeah, no. That’s definitely a one-way ticket to social suicide.

Instead, I force a polite nod and murmur, “Alpha,” before turning away as gracefully as my panic allows.

Heat crawls into my face. Just imagine if I’d actually asked him that stupid question. The same question nobody dares talk about. I tried asking Zia once, and she nearly bit my head off, told me never to mention it again.

It’s like this pack has a secret buried so deep even whispers are forbidden. Hell, even cults aren’t this quiet.

My attention is jerked to the two warriors squaring off in the middle of the training ground. I would’ve called it a fight, but it feels more like a competition than just a simple brawl.

Funny how every day, I get to witness something even weirder in this pack.

I'm not a fan of dog fights, but I really need to know what's at stake and who’s eventually going to win.

With a loud command, the two men pounce on each other with fury, each fighting like their honor depends on it.

My interest is drawn to the skill, tactics, and sheer experience the warriors fight with. Oh, this explains exactly why my Crescent Pack needs their alliance. Based on these two males alone, the rumors about them aren’t false, they’re brutal, deadly, and damn well trained.

"Enjoying the fight, low breed?"

The voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I turn and find Seris standing just inches away, her usual smug grin plastered on her face.

I bite back the urge to flip her off for calling me names. Goddess knows I’d love to. Instead, I force a tight smile and mutter, “Hi.”

She chuckles, clearly amused by my restraint. “You need to relax,” she says, folding her arms. “They’re not going to kill each other. It’s normal around here. Keeps the warriors sharp. You can challenge anyone you want, rank doesn’t matter.”

Her tone softens, but her eyes stay sharp, watching me like a hawk sizing up prey.

“So, what happens to the loser?” I ask, glancing back at the fight as one of the men slams the other into the dirt.

Seris steps closer, her voice dropping, almost conspiratorial. “The loser is shamed,” she says. “They lose their rank… and sometimes, their standing in the pack never recovers.”

Her gaze rests on me a moment too long, more like she’s offering more than just information, like it’s a warning. 

She goes on, her voice casual, but enough to tell me there's more to what she's just saying . “These duels aren’t meant to be to the death,” she says with a shrug, “but… accidents happen.”

I don’t respond. My eyes stay on the fighters, my mind is already racing.

I scan the training field with its sections and equipment. I need to start training, secretly. Something tells me Seris wouldn’t mind seeing me flat on my back in the dirt one of these days. And I’ll be damned if I let her get that satisfaction.

After the little lovely chit-chat with Seris and waiting long enough to see who won the so-called dog fight, I finally make my way back to the High Priestess, delivering what she’d sent me to fetch.

Honestly, I’d hoped that would be the end of it, but of course, it never is with her. Her nostrils flare taking in the scents clinging to me.

“I see you’re already on talking terms with Seris.” More of an accusation than curiosity.

“Not really,” I reply, keeping my voice as neutral as I can. “We only talked last time because of the message you sent me to deliver.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, as if she’s trying to read more into my words than I’m saying. 

The High Priestess leans back in her leather comfortable chair, her expression unreadable as always. “Seris has been Damon’s friend since they were barely out of diapers,” she says casually, as if she’s just sharing harmless gossip.

I stay quiet, letting her words hang in the air.

“She’s been through a lot,” the Priestess continues, her gaze shifting toward the window. “Her heart was broken when she turned out to be Mateless at her first ceremony. But the pack didn’t turn their backs on her.”

There’s a faint note of respect in her voice now. “She’s one of our most capable warriors, a brilliant tech mind, and a loyal friend to the Alpha.”

I nod slowly, processing every word. Maybe there’s more to Seris than her witty tongue and the smug smile.