Ella
I wiped the sweat from my brow, carefully tying off the last stitch on the young soldier's forearm. The training accident had left him with a nasty gash, but nothing life-threatening.
"There. Try not to punch any more trees during combat practice," I said, applying a final dab of herbal salve. The young soldier winced. "It wasn't my fault. Riley dodged at the last second." "Mmhmm. And I suppose the tree jumped right in front of your fist?" I raised an eyebrow, packing away my supplies. "Something like that." He flexed his arm cautiously. "Thanks, Luna. You're a miracle worker." "Just doing my job. Keep it clean and come back tomorrow so I can check it." As the young soldier left, Mia poked her head in. "Got a minute? The new recruits are struggling with basic first aid." I glanced at the clock and sighed. It was already 3:30. "I can give you thirty minutes, and then I really need to go." Those thirty minutes turned into ninety. By the time I finished, it was past five. "Shoot," I muttered, hastily gathering my things. I'd completely lost track of time, and now I was seriously late. Jackson's class ended thirty minutes ago, and I'd promised him I wouldn't be late this time. Last week, I'd kept him waiting twice, and the look of disappointment on his little face had been enough to make me swear I'd be punctual. So much for that promise. The school wasn't far, just across the main compound, but every second felt like an eternity as I pictured Jackson sitting alone on the steps, watching other children leave with their parents. Being Luna came with respect and responsibilities, but to a six-year-old boy, it meant nothing compared to having his mom show up on time. I practically jogged the last hundred yards. The school building came into view, its brick facade warm in the late afternoon sun. Most of the children had already gone, and the playground was eerily quiet compared to its usual chaos. My heart sank. No Jackson waiting on the steps. "Jackson?" I called out, hurrying up to the entrance. Maybe he was inside, waiting in his classroom. I yanked open the heavy door and rushed down the hallway, my footsteps echoing against the empty corridor. Ms. Palmer was erasing the chalkboard when I burst into Jackson's classroom. She turned, surprise flickering across her face. "Luna! I thought you'd already picked up Jackson." "What? No, I'm late. I got caught up with the first aid training and-" I stopped, my stomach tightening. "He's not here?" She shook her head. "He left about twenty minutes ago." "Thank you," I managed, already backing toward the door. My mind raced as I hurried out of the building. Where could Jackson be? My pulse quickened as I scanned the empty schoolyard. Marcus might have picked him up without telling me. He'd done that once before when I was stuck in an emergency council meeting. Or maybe one of our friends had grabbed him—Tessa sometimes took him home with her son when I ran late. I took a deep breath. No need to panic yet. Jackson was safe, probably already home eating snacks and complaining about homework. I hurried across the compound, nodding distractedly at the people who greeted me. Being Luna meant everyone wanted a piece of my attention, but right now, my mind was focused solely on finding my son. As I rounded the corner to our house, relief washed over me. The lights were on. Someone was home. I pushed open the front door, calling out, "Jackson? Are you here?" "Mom!" Jackson's excited voice rang out from the kitchen, followed by the scrape of a chair and the thunder of small feet. He barreled into the entryway. "You're finally home!" "I'm so sorry I was late, sweetie." I knelt down, wrapping him in a tight hug. The relief flooding through me made my knees weak. "I got caught up with the first aid training and lost track of time." "It's okay, Mom!" Jackson squirmed in my embrace, clearly more interested in something else than my apologies. "Guess who picked me up from school? Miss Ava!" My body went rigid. "Ava?" As if summoned by her name, Ava Grayson appeared in the doorway between our kitchen and living room, casually leaning against the frame with that effortless grace she'd always possessed. "Surprise," she said with a little wave. "Hope you don't mind the impromptu babysitting." I straightened up, one hand still on Jackson's shoulder. "I thought Marcus had picked him up, or maybe Tessa." The unspoken question hung in the air: Why you? "I was passing by the school," Ava explained, "and saw this little guy sitting alone on the steps. So I brought him home. I figured you were caught up with Luna duties." I stared at Ava, trying to process her presence in my kitchen. Of all people. Ava Grayson, with her perfect hair and flawless skin, stood in my house like she belonged here. The same Ava who'd grown up alongside Marcus, who'd been his closest friend long before I entered the picture. The same Ava who, according to pack gossip that I pretended not to hear, had expected to be Marcus's mate before I showed up. "That's... thoughtful," I managed, the words sticking in my throat like dry bread. Jackson tugged at my sleeve, bouncing on his toes. "Mom! Ava is so cool! She showed me how to make paper airplanes that do loops! And she knows all about dinosaurs. Did you know T-Rexes had feathers? Like chickens!" "Fascinating," I said, trying to match his enthusiasm. "We had the best time," Ava said, her smile showing perfect white teeth. "Jackson's quite the little gentleman." I forced a polite smile. "Thank you for watching him. In the future, though, Tessa usually picks him up if I'm running late." "But Mom!" Jackson's face scrunched up. "I want Ava to pick me up. She's way more fun than Tessa." Heat crept up my neck. "Jackson, that's not very nice." "But it's true! Tessa just makes me do homework. Ava let me have ice cream! With sprinkles AND chocolate sauce!" My head snapped up. "Ice cream?" Jackson's eyes went wide, realizing his mistake. Ava's perfect smile faltered. "Just a small cone. I didn't think-" "He can't have dairy." The words came out sharper than intended. "His stomach can't handle it. That's why we keep the special non-dairy treats at home." "Mom, I'm fine!" "I am so sorry," Ava said, straightening up. "I had no idea." "That's exactly why Tessa picks him up. She knows about his dietary restrictions." I pressed my fingers to my temples. "Thank you again for today, but please, next time, just call Tessa." "Of course." Ava gathered her things, flashing a bright smile. "Feel better, Jackson." As soon as the door closed, Jackson's face twisted with frustration. "Why do you always have to be so mean to Ava? She's nice to me! I wish she could pick me up every day!" I stiffened. "Nice to you?" I grabbed the pink medicine from the cabinet. "Is that what you call letting you eat whatever you want, whenever you want?" "At least she doesn't boss me around like you do!" I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to stay calm. "Treating you like a baby would be letting you stuff yourself with ice cream until you get sick. Remember Tommy's birthday party?" Jackson crossed his arms. "That was different." "Oh really? Because I distinctly remember you curled up on the bathroom floor, crying about your stomachache." I measured out the medicine and held it out. "Here. Since I'm such a terrible mom, I'll let you decide—take it now or deal with the pain later." Jackson let out a dramatic groan but took the medicine. His face contorted in disgust. "Ugh! Ava would never make me drink this nasty stuff." Something in me cracked. "Of course she wouldn't. Because she's not the one who has to wake up at 2 AM when you're doubled over in pain. She's not the one who has to clean up after you, or make sure you eat real food or take care of you when you're sick." Jackson frowned but didn't respond. I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "Go wash your hands for dinner." As he stomped off, I leaned against the counter, my stomach twisting. He adored the woman who spoiled him rotten but resented the one actually taking care of him. "Guess that's why Dad asked Ava instead of you." I froze. "What did you say?"Ella"We can influence it." Liam leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "We could put his clothes in my closet, let them absorb my scent." I considered this. "Would that be enough?" "It would help, but the scent would be weak. Artificial." He shook his head. "Anyone with a decent nose would know something was off." "So we're back to square one." "Not exactly." His eyes met mine, calculating. "There's a better solution." I waited, not liking the intensity of his gaze one bit. "You need to carry my scent," he said finally. "Strong enough that it transfers to Jackson naturally." I blinked. "And how exactly do you propose we do that?" "We've already started." He gestured vaguely between us. "Yesterday's... interaction... was a beginning." My cheeks heated at the memory of our skin-to-skin contact. "That was a one-time thing." "It needs to be regular." I stood up abruptly, needing to put distance between us. "You want me to rub myself all over you on a daily basis? Hard pa
Ella"Mom," Jackson tugged at my sleeve, his voice small despite his angry expression. "Can we go now?" I nodded, taking his hand. He immediately pulled it away but stayed close as we walked back to our room. The guard followed at a respectful distance, probably under orders to keep an eye on us. I couldn't blame Liam for the precaution—we were strangers here, after all. Once inside our room, Jackson flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. I sat in the armchair by the window, my mind racing with thoughts of Catherine. Her perfectly crafted persona was more terrifying than outright hostility. That plastered-on smile hid the steel beneath, and I'd seen that type before. She was the kind of woman who would slip poison in your tea while asking how your day was going. "I'm going outside," Jackson announced suddenly, sliding off the bed. "Stay where the guards can see you," I called after him as he headed for the door. He didn't respond, just slipped out without another word. H
Liam"I'll find you afterward," I said to Ella, then strode from the hall, leaving them alone with Catherine. I moved through the corridors, my footsteps echoing against ancient stone. Guards and servants flattened themselves against walls as I passed, eyes downcast. The familiar weight of power and isolation settled on my shoulders. I glanced back once at the Great Hall. Ella stood tall despite Catherine's intimidating presence. The morning light caught her hair, illuminating the defiant tilt of her chin. She was undeniably beautiful, more beautiful than what I expected—not in Catherine's calculated, perfect way, but in a raw, honest manner that made it difficult to look away. Not that her appearance mattered. I needed her skills, not her face. Still, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed the graceful way she moved, or how her eyes flashed with intelligence and fire when challenged. I turned away, refocusing. Beauty was irrelevant to my plans—plans that no one could know about,
Marcus"Morning," Ava murmured, her voice husky with sleep. She stretched like a satisfied cat, not bothering to keep herself covered. "What happened last night?" I asked, my voice sounding strangled even to my own ears. She smiled lazily, tracing a finger down my chest. "You don't remember?" I shook my head, immediately regretting the movement as pain lanced through my skull. "We had quite a night," she purred, sitting up. The sheet fell away completely, and I forced my eyes to stay on her face. "You were... enthusiastic." I stared at Ava, trying to process her words through the fog of my hangover. Enthusiastic? What the hell had I done? "I... don't remember anything," I admitted, my voice sounding like a croak. My mouth felt like I'd been chewing on sand all night. Ava smiled, reaching over to trace a finger along my collarbone. "You don't remember this?" She touched what I realized with horror must be a hickey on my neck. "Or these?" She gestured to several marks on her own b
MarcusThe next few days passed in a blur of whiskey and rage. I didn't leave the house except for essential pack business. The walls that once held laughter now echoed with silence. At night, I'd find myself pausing outside Jackson's empty bedroom, my hand on the doorknob, before remembering he wasn't mine to check on anymore. Never had been. The kitchen felt wrong without Ella's humming, and the living room was too spacious without Jackson's toys scattered across the floor. I hated that I missed them. Hated myself more for still wanting what was never real. One night, I sat in my study, a half-empty bottle of whiskey keeping me company. The golden liquid burned pleasantly as it went down, numbing the edges of my thoughts. I'd lost count of how many glasses I'd had. Didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the blessed numbness that alcohol brought. I stared at the fireplace, watching flames dance and twist. The fire was honest. It didn't pretend to be something it wasn't. It didn't l
EllaLiam's father leaned close to him, speaking low enough that only those of us on the platform could hear. "My office. Now." Without acknowledging me or Jackson, he turned and strode from the hall, his back rigid with anger. "Charming man," I muttered under my breath. Jackson tugged at my dress. "Can I go now?" he whispered, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. "Not yet, sweetie," I said, smoothing his hair. "Just a little longer." He pulled away from my touch, his scowl deepening. When the hall had mostly emptied, Liam turned to us. "I need to speak with my father. I'll have someone show you around afterward." "And when were you planning to mention your fiancée?" I asked, keeping my voice low but sharp. "I'll explain later." He glanced toward the door where his father had exited. "Right now, I need to handle this." "Fine. Go. But we're definitely discussing this later." He nodded curtly and started to leave but stopped as a woman entered through the main doors. Sh