CHAPTER 8:TEN MONTHS OF SILENCE 

Kayla's POV 

"Ten months," Beta Cole said, laying a thick leather folder on my desk with a soft thud. "Ten months, and our gold reserves have doubled."

I didn't look up from the trade ledger I was signing. "Did the western border guards get their winter boots, Cole?"

"Delivered yesterday," he replied and pulled out the heavy wooden chair across from me and sat down, studying my face for a long moment. "You look tired, Kayla."

"I’m fine," I said, capping my fountain pen. "How are the new recruits performing?"

"Jax led the morning patrol without a single mistake," Cole said, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. "He credits you for breaking his bad habits."

"He broke them himself," I said softly. "I just gave him a reason to pay attention."

Bata Cole sighed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "The elders were talking this morning. They know what you've done for this pack. Ten months ago, people were whispering behind your back. Now? There isn't a warrior on that field who wouldn't bleed for you."

I gave him a faint, bitter smile. "I’m glad the pack is safe, Marcus. That's all my father asked of me."

"And what about what you asked for yourself?" Cole asked quietly.

 "It's been almost a year, Kayla. You live in one wing of the house, Lucian lives in the other. You eat your meals at separate times. You speak to each other like trade partners."

My heart gave a quiet, familiar ache, but I kept my voice completely flat. "We have an understanding."

"That isn't an understanding," Marcus said, his tone softening with real concern. "That's two dead people walking through the same hallway."

Before I could answer him, the heavy door opened.

Lucian stepped into the room. Over the last ten months, he hadn't changed at all. His dark hair was still neatly kept, his icy gray eyes were still cold and unreadable, and his posture was as stiff as iron. He carried a stack of signed border reports in his hand.

"Cole," Lucian said, nodding briefly to his Beta. "Leave us for a moment."

The Bata looked between the two of us, gave a small nod, and walked out, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.

Lucian set the papers on the corner of my desk. He didn't sit down. He never sat down when he came into my office.

"The Silvermoon trade alliance went through," Lucian said, his voice deep and smooth. "Alpha Vance agreed to all your terms."

"He didn't have much of a choice," I replied, keeping my hands folded on the desk. "Our food stores are the largest in the region. If he wants his people fed through the winter, he plays by our rules."

"You handled him well," Lucian said.

"I did my job."

He stood there for a second, staring at me. There was a strange, subtle tension in his eyes—a look I couldn't quite read, like a man looking at something valuable that he didn't know how to touch.

"Is there anything else, Alpha Lucian?" I asked, using the formal title I always used now.

"Do you ever stop working, Kayla?" he asked quietly.

I looked straight into his gray eyes. "Work gives me a purpose here."

"You are the Luna," he said. "That is your purpose."

"No," I corrected him, my voice barely above a whisper. "I am the manager of your pack. I am the woman who signs your papers and keeps your borders safe. We both know what I am to you, Lucian. Let's not pretend."

Lucian’s jaw tightened. A dark shadow crossed his face, but he didn't argue. He didn't deny it. He just turned his head slightly toward the window.

"The elders are pleased with you," he said softly. "You have brought security to Ravenwood."

"Then I have fulfilled my late father's wish," I said, swallowing the dry lump in my throat. "And you have your territory intact. It’s a good trade."

He lingered near the door, his fingers resting on the brass handle. "You don't hate me?" He asked in a low whisper.

"No," I said, and for the first time in ten months, I actually meant it. "I don't hate you, Lucian. Hate takes too much energy. I’ve just accepted things as they are."

He looked at me for three long seconds, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something more—something real—but he closed it again. He gave a single, tight nod and walked out into the hall.

~~~

I stayed in my office until dark.

A young servant girl, Sarah, stepped in around nine o'clock, carrying a tray with hot tea and fresh bread.

"You should rest, Luna Kayla," Sarah said softly, setting the tray near my elbow. "You've been up since five in the morning."

"Just finishing the security schedules for next month, Sarah," I said, offering her a small smile.

"You do too much," Sarah murmured, lingering by the door. "The girls in the kitchen were saying today... you never ask for anything for yourself. You never buy new clothes, you never ask for grand trips. You just give and give."

"I have everything I need," I said softly, looking down at my ink-stained hands.

"Everyone needs someone to hold them at night, Luna," Sarah whispered gently. "Even an Alpha's daughter."

I looked out the window into the pitch-black night. "Some of us aren't meant for that kind of story, Sarah. And that's okay. I’ve made my peace with it."

After Sarah left, I blew out the candles on my desk and walked slowly up the grand stairs to my bedroom.

Ten months ago, entering this massive, cold room felt like stepping into a prison cell. I used to lie awake crying, listening to the silence, aching for a husband who cared. But pain loses its sharp edge when you live with it every day. Eventually, it just turns into a quiet, heavy numb feeling.

I changed into a simple nightgown, unbraided my hair, and climbed into bed. The sheets were cold, as they always were. I pulled the heavy quilt up to my chin and closed my eyes, letting the quiet hum of the night wash over me.

I was Luna Kayla Ravenwood. I was respected. My people were fed. My father’s pack was safe. That had to be enough. I buried the foolish girl who dreamed of love deep down inside me, locking the door and throwing away the key.

~~~

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed twelve slow, heavy times, announcing midnight.

I drifted right on the edge of sleep.

WRAAAAAAAAH!

A violent, deafening screech shattered the silence of the night.

I sat bolt upright in bed, my heart instantly slamming against my ribs like a wild animal.

The emergency pack sirens.

They weren't the low, steady horns used for basic perimeter warnings. These were the high-pitched, metallic alarms reserved for a breach at the main gates—an absolute code red.

Red emergency lights began flashing through the gaps in my bedroom curtains, painting the dark walls in a blood-red glow.

Distant screams echoed from the courtyard below, followed by the heavy, chaotic sound of dozens of warriors sprinting through the hallways, weapons clattering against armor.

"Borders breached! Main courtyard!" a guard shouted outside my bedroom door. "All warriors to the front!"

I threw off the covers, my bare feet hitting the cold floor as I grabbed my coat and threw open the bedroom door.

Beta Cole was sprinting down the hallway, his sword drawn, his face white with sheer panic.

"Cole!" I called out, running to match his pace. "What is it? Is it rogues? Is it Alpha Vance?"

Cole stopped at the top of the grand staircase, his eyes wide with horror as he looked down toward the front entrance doors that had just been smashed off their iron hinges.

"It's not rogues, Kayla," Marcus breathed out, his voice shaking uncontrollably as he pointed down into the red-lit foyer. "Look!”