His True Luna

NOW

“Aria!”

Aria spins around, her heart sinking the moment she spots Madam Kate, the Chief of Staff, marching toward her, a bucket in one hand and a mop in the other. Her face is set in that all-too-familiar scowl, and Aria knows exactly what that look means—trouble.

Panic pricks at her. She has already finished her work. What now?

“Yes, ma’am,” she says, keeping her tone respectful.

Madam Kate halts right in front of her, her gaze sweeping over her from head to toe with obvious disdain. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Uhm… home?” Aria replies cautiously in a polite voice. Madam Kate has no problem using her hands when she’s displeased. “My shift is over for today.”

“No, it’s not,” Madam Kate snaps. “Did you not hear about the Alpha coming to our pack today?”

Of course, Aria has heard. It’s all anyone has been talking about for the past week, especially the she-wolves. The Winter Pack is practically buzzing with excitement over his arrival. She even stayed up late last night preparing for it. But what does that have to do with her? She has already done her part.

She doesn’t dare say that out loud. Instead, she lowers her head. “I heard.”

“Lazy omega,” Madam Kate sneers. “And you think you can just leave?”

“I—I already finished my work—”

“Clean the visiting Alpha’s room,” Madam Kate orders, shoving the mop at her. The bucket clatters to the ground at her feet.

Aria blinks. “But, Madam Kate, I promised my—”

Madam Kate spins so fast that Aria barely has time to react. The glare she shoots her makes Aria’s throat tighten, choking off her protest.

“Ash is sick and can’t make it to work,” Madam Kate states coldly. “So, you better get her job done.”

Aria nods stiffly, swallowing her frustration. Cleaning rooms isn’t even her job; she works in the kitchen. She is one of the cooks. But in this packhouse, she is more of a glorified errand girl than anything else.

This is her life in the Winter Pack. She is an omega—lowly, weak, and only good for running errands. Omegas are nearly extinct; most don’t survive pack wars, and the others just disappear, and nobody cares to take account. She and her mother had no idea there weren’t any omegas in Winter Pack when they fled here. They only wanted safety. To secure that, Aria had pledged her service to the packhouse as a glorified slave. Alpha Grayson had taken pity on them and let them stay, though he shoved them into a tiny house on the outskirts of the territory. It was better than nothing.

For five years, she has worked here for scraps. The pay is barely enough to keep her fed, let alone support her family. Her mother took up cooking for a woman who sells food at the local market in exchange for a small cut of the profits.

Now, Alpha Grayson is dead, and his grandson, the Alpha of another pack, is coming here to take over since Alpha Grayson only has a daughter who is married off to another Alpha. Aria trudges into the Alpha’s designated room, setting the bucket and mop down. Her gaze sweeps across the space, taking in the sheer luxury. The room is massive, with a king-sized bed draped in the finest sheets. Dark wooden furnishings, plush carpets, and elegant decor scream wealth. Her fingers brush against the smooth surface of the dresser.

Will she ever get to live like this?

The thought barely lingers before Madam Kate’s voice cuts through her musings. Aria jerks back, scrambling to look busy as the woman steps inside. She stalks to the dresser and runs a single finger along its surface. Then she holds it up, inspecting it like she just found evidence of a crime.

“This still sticks to the hands,” Madam Kate says icily. “Do you want me to deduct your salary?”

“No, madam,” Aria blurts, grabbing the cloth and scrubbing furiously.

“The Alpha is already on his way, and you haven’t done anything,” Madam Kate hisses before storming out.

Aria grits her teeth and keeps cleaning. The room is already spotless, but she goes over everything again because if she doesn’t, she knows Madam Kate will find some excuse to punish her. By the time she’s done, exhaustion weighs down her limbs. Her eyes sting with the need for sleep. Dragging the bucket and mop behind her, she steps out of the room and wipes the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. She heads toward the kitchen to write a note for a messenger to take to her mother to let her know she won’t be home anytime soon. Just as she is done writing—

“Aria!”

Madam Kate’s voice rings through the hall.

Aria squeezes her eyes shut for a second before turning around. What now?

“Yes, Madam,” she answers quickly, setting the mop and bucket aside.

Madam Kate barely acknowledges her as she lifts a tray with two goblets of juice. Her expression is sharp and expectant. “Come here, quickly,” she orders. “The Alpha is here, and he's thirsty. Take this juice to him. He’s with Beta Roland in the cabana.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Her glare sharpens. “Hurry. They shouldn’t be kept waiting, or I’ll deduct from your salary.”

Aria nods, grabs the tray, and hurries out of the kitchen. Her fingers tighten around the edges as her pulse kicks up a notch. Normally, she doesn’t appear in front of the Alpha. Madam Kate doesn’t think she is worthy enough to be in his presence. But today, with Ash absent, she has no choice. She must look awful and unkempt from staying up late last night and working extra hours this morning. Not that she cares, but she wonders if the new Alpha will. Would he turn up his nose at her ragged state? If Ash had been here, she wouldn’t be dealing with this.

On her way to the cabana, she passes Celina, the Beta’s daughter, and her ever-present shadow, Amy. Their giggles fill the corridor.

"He is so handsome," Celina says, practically sighing.

"It feels good to finally have a young Alpha," Amy gushes. "I can finally dress well and attract him. What if he’s my mate?"

Celina scoffs, wrinkling her nose at Amy. "Don’t flatter yourself."

They spot Aria, and immediately their amused expressions twist into sneers. She doesn’t react. She is used to it. She walks past them without a word, ignoring their judgmental stares as she makes her way to the cabana. The deep rumble of masculine laughter reaches her before she steps in. The sound vibrates through her body, an invisible force pressing against her skin. The men are engaged in conversation. She steadies her breathing, determined to serve them quickly and get out.

But the moment she steps inside, her entire body locks up.

She freezes.

Her breath catches in her throat. Because sitting there, eyes trained directly on her, is him.

Xavier.

The tray trembles in her grip. Her pulse pounds violently in her ears. His scent reaches her first, overwhelming her senses. Musky. Powerful. Unforgettable.

The tray slips from her hands. The goblets fall to the floor. The sound rings out like a warning bell, halting all conversation. The spilled juice spreads across the ground, soaking into her shoes, but she doesn’t move.

She can’t.

Xavier’s eyes remain locked on her. There’s no surprise in his gaze, no shock, just an icy, unreadable expression. The skin around his dark eyes is weathered, more suited to the intensity within. Eyes that now look at her with so much hostility.

Cold. Distant. Dead.