CHAPTER 3:THE UNSPOKEN CONTRACT

CHAPTER 3:THE UNSPOKEN CONTRACT

Kayla's POV 

The morning came fast, grey light washing over the cold floorboards of the master bedroom.

I hadn't slept a wink after Lucian’s mournful howl died out in the dark woods. I had just lay there in the giant bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the house slowly wake up—the heavy footsteps of guards in the hallway, distant doors shutting, and the low rumble of the pack starting its day.

If Lucian thought I was going to spend my days hiding in this bedroom, crying over a man who didn't want me, he was dead wrong. I was an Alpha's daughter. My father had taught me how to manage trade lines, balance ledgers, and keep hundreds of families fed through long, bitter winters. That was work I understood. Emotional pain was hard and confusing, but work? Work was simple.

By seven in the morning, I had washed my face with cold water, pulled my hair back into a neat knot, and set out to find the Luna's official office on the ground floor.

The room looked like nobody had set foot inside it for two years. A thin layer of dust covered the dark mahogany desk, and stack upon stack of unread letters, supply requests, and messy financial records covered every flat surface.

Hazel’s presence was still everywhere in the room. A faded vase of dried wildflowers sat in the corner of the desk, and a dusty pink shawl was draped over the back of the leather chair.

My heart squeezed, but I forced myself to move. I picked up the shawl, folded it neatly, and placed it inside a side drawer. I didn't throw it away, but I couldn't sit here with her shadow hovering directly over my shoulder all day.

I opened the heavy velvet curtains, letting the cool morning sunlight pour in, and sat down at the desk.

For five hours straight, I worked without stopping.

The Ravenwood pack was rich, but their record-keeping was an absolute mess. Food distribution to the poorer families living on the western border was delayed by three weeks because of simple logging errors. The medical clinic was running dangerously low on basic healing herbs, and the ledger showed thousands of gold credits tied up in unverified trade routes that made no sense.

I rolled up my sleeves, dipped my pen into the inkwell, and got to work. I re-calculated the grain rations, organized the supply logs, and drafted three new trade agreements that would cut down waste immediately.

Around noon, heavy footsteps approached the open doorway.

Elder Thomas,a tall, white-haired man who had served Lucian’s father,stood at the threshold alongside Elder Marcus. Both men held thick leather folders, looking annoyed before they even stepped inside.

They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me sitting behind the desk, ink stains on my fingers and papers neatly arranged in front of me.

"Luna Kayla," Elder Thomas said, his tone stiff and formal. "We came to check on the monthly ledger. We usually handle the pack accounts ourselves since... since the position has been vacant."

"You won't need to handle them anymore," I said calmly, sliding three neatly stacked piles of paper across the polished wood. 

"Here are the revised winter food rations. The western border list had seventeen duplicate names, which was causing the delay. And here is the corrected budget for the medical hall."

Elder Marcus frowned, picking up the top sheet. He pulled out a pair of spectacles, scanning the figures. As his eyes moved down the page, his expression changed from irritation to utter shock. He looked at Thomas, then back at me.

"This... this is remarkably precise," Marcus muttered, his voice dropping. 

"You fixed the grain discrepancy in one morning?"

"It was basic math," I replied, keeping my voice smooth and polite. "The trade lines were overlapping. It took twenty minutes to clean up."

Neither man offered a smile. Neither man said thank you. Thomas merely cleared his throat, tucked the papers tightly under his arm, and gave me a curt nod.

"We will present these to Alpha Lucian," Thomas said gruffly, turning on his heel to leave.

An hour later, Lucian walked into the office.

He was wearing a heavy dark coat, his dark hair damp from the rain outside. He smelled of fresh pine and wet earth—and beneath that, the faint, bitter scent of exhaustion. He looked like a man who hadn't slept a single minute, his pale grey eyes shadowed with dark circles.

He stopped near the doorway, holding the papers I had organized for the elders.

For a long moment, he just looked at me. There was no warmth in his gaze, no regret for leaving me alone on our wedding night, and no apology for calling me by another woman's name in front of his entire pack.

"The elders brought me your revisions," Lucian said. His voice was flat, devoid of any feeling.

"Are they correct?" I asked, setting my pen down.

"They are better than correct," Lucian said, stepping forward to place the pages on the corner of the desk. "You saved the pack over two thousand credits in grain waste alone. Your father trained you well."

He praised the work, but his tone was as cold and dry as winter ice. He didn't ask how I was holding up. He didn't ask if I had eaten or slept. He spoke to me like a business manager reviewing the work of an efficient clerk.

"I aim to be useful," I said, holding his icy gaze without flinching.

"Good," he said, turning toward the hallway. "Keep up with the weekly reports. It saves my Beta time."

"Lucian," I called out before he could leave.

He paused, his hand resting on the brass door handle. He didn't turn around to face me.

"Is this all I am going to be to you?" I asked softly, the question slipping out before I could stop it. "A clerk for your paperwork?"

A long, suffocating silence filled the room. Lucian slowly turned his head, looking at me over his shoulder with eyes that felt completely hollow.

"You are the Luna of Ravenwood," he said quietly, each word sharp and deliberate. "You have your duties, and I have mine. That is the contract we agreed to."

Without waiting for me to reply, he walked out into the hall, his boots echoing loudly on the stone floor.

By late afternoon, my chest felt tight from sitting in the quiet office for so long. I needed air. I decided to walk down to the main kitchen to inspect the pantry stores myself and make sure the head cook understood the new rationing plan.

As I walked through the grand common hall, pack members were gathered at the long wooden tables, eating late lunches and chatting. As soon as I walked past, the loud chatter died down into uncomfortable murmurs. People bowed their heads slightly out of duty, but their body language was stiff, guarded, and distant.

I kept my chin high and my shoulders back, refusing to let them see how much their cold stares hurt.

As I stepped past a table near the large stone fireplace where two older pack women were folding fresh linens, a voice carried clearly through the quiet room. It wasn't a whisper. It was spoken just loud enough for my wolf hearing to pick up every single word.

"She works fast, I'll give her that," the first woman grunted, shaking out a heavy table cloth.

The second woman snorted softly, looking right at my back with narrowed eyes.

"Paperwork and numbers," the woman muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. "That's all she brings. Hazel would have run this pack with true beauty and warmth, not like this cold machine in a white dress.”

“She really deserves more hostile treatment from the Alpha.”