A Luna's Resolve

(Dominic's POV)

I watched Grace Morgan carefully as she sipped her tea across from me. Seven years had changed her profoundly. The brilliant, confident healer I'd known at Timber University had faded into this quiet, subdued woman before me.

Her hands trembled slightly as she held the teacup. Not from weakness—Grace had never been weak—but from something deeper. A weariness that came from years of being diminished.

"It's been a while," I said, breaking the silence between us.

She nodded, her emerald eyes meeting mine briefly before darting away. "Too long."

The few times we'd crossed paths since her mating to Ethan Silver, I'd noticed the gradual erosion of her spirit. Each encounter showed less of the brilliant healer who had once outshined everyone at university, even me.

If someone had told me back then that Grace Morgan would one day be described as "inferior" or "fallen behind," I would have laughed in their face. Yet here she sat, her confidence shattered, her brilliance dimmed by years in the shadow of her mate bond with the Alpha King.

"How are things at Moonstone Remedies?" she asked, clearly steering the conversation away from herself.

"Growing. Challenging. We could use your expertise," I replied honestly.

A flicker of the old Grace—curious, engaged—appeared briefly in her eyes before fading again. It was enough to give me hope.

"Falling behind now isn't the end of the world," I said, leaning forward. "Your talent and innate healing gifts eclipse those of ordinary pack healers. Grace, as long as you still have the heart for it, it's not too late to begin anew."

I softened my voice, drawing on our shared history. "Don't forget—you were one of the most outstanding healers I've ever known, even acknowledged by the elders."

A wry smile touched her lips. "If you told Elder Elms that, he'd probably sneer that he was forced to pick the best of a mediocre litter."

The memory brought a faint glow to her eyes, and I seized the opportunity to keep that spark alive.

"I saw his name on the Centennial guest list—how is he doing?" she asked.

"He's well," I replied, "but he's grown tired of former students appearing now and then, feeling they haven't lived up to his expectations."

A nostalgic laugh escaped her, and for a moment, I glimpsed the Grace of old. I could almost see her hunched over complex healing scrolls, working through the night while others gave up.

"Come home to Moonstone Remedies, Grace," I said, not bothering to hide the earnestness in my voice.

Her grip tightened on the teacup. She inhaled sharply before nodding. "Alright."

Relief washed through me. "When can you start?"

Her expression clouded slightly. "I need to finish some current duties first."

I understood the implication—her handover from Silvercliff medical technology enterprises and finalizing her separation from Ethan. Both would require delicate handling.

"Why not meet a new bio-alchemy prodigy who just returned from overseas studies?" I suggested, hoping to rekindle her professional interests.

She shook her head. "Not yet. But soon."

I nodded, respecting her boundaries. The old Grace would have jumped at the opportunity to meet a promising new talent. But this Grace needed time—time I was willing to give her.

As I prepared to leave, I noticed her posture had straightened slightly. Her eyes held a determination I hadn't seen in years.

Perhaps the brilliant healer I'd known wasn't gone after all—just buried beneath years of neglect and dismissal. And I was determined to help her resurface.

(Grace's POV)

I watched Dominic walk away, his offer still ringing in my ears. Return to Moonstone Remedies. Begin again. The possibility felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Grace."

The cold, familiar voice made me stiffen. I turned to see Tiffany Silver approaching, her expression set in its usual disapproval.

"Sister Tiffany," I greeted her cautiously.

Ethan's older sister had never warmed to me, even after years of marriage to her brother. Her dark hair was pulled back severely, emphasizing her sharp features—so similar to Ethan's, yet lacking any of the warmth he occasionally showed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone suggesting I had no business being at such a prestigious event.

"Attending the Timber University Centennial celebration," I replied simply.

Tiffany fell silent, likely calculating how my presence might affect the Silver family's image. I could almost see her thoughts: was I representing the pack properly? Was my attire befitting a Luna?

"Lucas says he wants the meals you prepare," she finally said, her tone clipped. "Later I'll have someone deliver the ingredients to you."

Not a request—a command. Typical of how the Silver family had treated me for years. Lucas, Tiffany's increasingly rebellious son, had developed a taste for my cooking, which sometimes incorporated calming herbs to help with his behavior.

In the past, I would have nodded and accepted this demand without question. But with the Mate Separation Agreement prepared and my resolve hardening, something in me refused to bend.

"Sorry, Sister Tiffany, I'm not available tomorrow," I said firmly, meeting her cold gaze.

Her eyes widened slightly. I had never refused her before.

Before she could argue, a cluster of alumni approached us. Their expensive attire and confident bearing marked them as influential pack members.

"Madam Silver, may I ask who this is?" one of them addressed Tiffany respectfully.

"A friend," Tiffany replied curtly, not bothering to introduce me properly as her brother's mate and Luna.

The group glanced at me—some perhaps noting my quiet elegance even in simple attire—before clustering around Tiffany and moving on.

The dismissal didn't bother me. I was used to being overlooked, especially by the Silver family. But something had changed inside me. I no longer craved their approval or acceptance.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked away, feeling lighter than I had in years.

(Ethan's POV)

The private jet touched down at Silvercliff International Airport just after ten. Emma had been chattering excitedly about returning home for most of the flight, but now she dozed against my shoulder, exhausted from the journey.

"We've arrived, Alpha King," the pilot announced as we taxied to a stop.

I nodded, gathering my sleeping daughter into my arms. Her small form felt fragile against my chest, reminding me of my responsibility to protect her.

The drive to Silver Manor was quiet. Emma didn't stir once, her breathing deep and even. I found myself studying her features in the dim light of the car—she had Grace's eyes, though currently closed, and my stubborn chin.

We arrived at the manor close to midnight. I carried Emma inside, nodding briefly to the staff who bowed as we passed.

As I climbed the stairs, I passed the master suite—the Luna's chambers—and noticed the door slightly ajar. Inside lay emptiness and darkness. Grace was not there.

A flicker of something—not quite concern, not quite irritation—passed through me. I pushed it aside and continued to Emma's room.

I settled her into bed, removing her shoes and tucking the blankets around her. She stirred slightly but didn't wake.

"Sleep well, Emma," I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

I made my way to my study, loosening my tie as I walked. The manor felt different somehow. Quieter, perhaps. Or maybe it was just the late hour.

Martha Wilson, our head housekeeper, entered quietly as I settled behind my desk. She supervised the final pieces of luggage being brought in, directing the staff with practiced efficiency.

"Alpha King, would you like anything before you retire?" she asked, her tone respectful as always.

I shook my head, my attention already turning to the documents awaiting my review. Business didn't stop, even for family returns.

As Martha supervised the pack servants arranging the luggage, I asked curtly, without turning around, "Where is she?"

The housekeeper hesitated, then said respectfully, "Madam Silver has gone on pack business, Alpha King."

I didn't miss the slight pause before her answer. Martha had been with the family for years—she knew better than to lie to me directly. But there was something she wasn't saying.

Pack business? Grace rarely handled pack matters alone. And when she did, it was never for more than a few days. According to my calendar, she had been gone for half a month.

I merely uttered a noncommittal "Mm," turning my attention to the documents on my desk, showing no further interest in my mate's unusual and prolonged absence.

But as the night deepened and the manor settled into silence, I found my thoughts returning to the empty bedroom. To the space where Grace should have been.