The Mooncrest Estate

"Your vitals are stable, and the accelerated healing is remarkable—even for our kind."

    The pack medic adjusted her stethoscope, making a final notation on Anna's chart. "You're cleared for discharge, madam."

"Thank you, Healer."

Anna's fingers absently traced the edge of the sterile white sheets, her wolf stirring restlessly beneath her skin after days of confinement.

The medic gathered her supplies with practiced efficiency. Anna watched the antiseptic-scented ward empty around her, the beep of monitors fading as the door clicked shut. She was alone with her thoughts—and the thousand questions burning through her mind.

"I need to figure out where I am. Sitting here won't give me answers."

Anna stood, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness. She'd been scrolling mindlessly through a tablet for the past hour, anything to quiet her racing thoughts. A flutter rippled across her belly—sharper than before, more insistent.

Her breath caught. "Was that...?"

She pressed her palm against the slight swell, waiting. Nothing. But the sensation had been unmistakable.

Shaking off the moment, Anna slipped from the medical ward. The clinic was smaller than she'd expected—pristine but intimate, nothing like the sprawling pack hospitals she'd known. The corridors stretched ahead, antiseptic white giving way to rich mahogany and stone as she moved toward the exterior entrance.

Then she saw it.

Beyond the reinforced  clinic glass doors, the world opened into something from another era. Her wolf surged forward in recognition—old pack lands, ancient territory. The estate sprawled before her like a living relic: stone architecture that had weathered centuries, turrets piercing the sky, courtyards where the scent of wolf and wilderness mingled with something else. Something powerful.

This isn't just a mansion. This place is a stronghold.

"Sorry I'm late!"

The voice echoed from below, pulling Anna's attention to the grand staircase. A young woman took the marble steps two at a time, her footfalls quick and light, her heartbeat audible even from this distance—nervous, racing.

"Master Ozeth will have me by the ear  if he finds out I kept you waiting on my very first assignment—"

The woman's words tumbled over each other as she reached the landing, slightly breathless. She clutched a tablet against her chest like a shield.

She stopped short, executing a formal bow that spoke of pack protocol drilled into muscle memory.

"I'm so sorry for the delay. I'm Isabeau De Philippe. I've been assigned as your personal attendant, madam."

Personal attendant?

Anna's mind spun. Who arranged this? JB? And why?

But Isabeau's anxiety was palpable—her scent carried notes of lavender and worry, her fingers white-knuckled around the tablet. Anna softened, returning the bow with an easy smile.

"I'm Anna, it's lovely to meet you."

She let warmth into her voice, watching the tension in Isabeau's shoulders ease slightly. "And I have to say, your accent is beautiful."

Isabeau's expression brightened, a genuine smile breaking through her nervousness. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"You're very kind, Madam Anna. Please—please don't mention the tardiness to Master Ozeth. He'll lecture me for an hour, and I've only just started this position."

"Your secret's safe with me." Anna's tone turned curious. "Master Ozeth... you mean JB sent you?"

"Of course."

Isabeau nodded, already turning toward the corridor, gesturing for Anna to follow. "And he takes punctuality very seriously. We should begin the tour—there's so much to show you."

Anna fell into step beside her, questions multiplying with every footfall. 'What is this place? Why am I being treated like honored pack?'

"Welcome to Mooncrest Estate,"

Isabeau announced as they descended the staircase into a vaulted entrance hall. Moonstone crystals glittered in chandeliers overhead, catching the afternoon light. "Ancestral seat of the Ozeth bloodline."

"JB is the head  here, right?"

The words escaped before Anna could stop them.

"Master Jebediah Ozeth is Alpha of the Mooncrest Pack and current patriarch of the Ozeth dynasty,"

Isabeau confirmed, her voice taking on a note of pride.

Anna stopped walking. An Alpha. That explained the power she'd sensed in him—the command beneath the easy charm, the way her wolf had responded to his presence.

"But his scent... it's different from other Alphas. Calmer somehow."

"The Ozeth line is unique,"

     Isabeau said carefully. "Their bloodline carries... particular traits."

"Wait."

Anna's mind raced through pack politics, territory maps, alliance structures. "I've never heard of the Ozeth clan. How is that possible?"

Isabeau's expression grew guarded—respectful but firm.

"The Ozeth family operates independently of Crescent governance, Madam Anna. We're sovereign territory, though we maintain diplomatic relations with the Crescent Crown as allies."

The implications hit Anna like a physical blow. Outside Crescent rule? That shouldn't be possible. In the Lunar Empire, you bowed to the Crescent or you were hunted as rogue. There was no middle ground.

"How big is the Ozeth pack?"

Anna asked, though something told her she wasn't prepared for the answer.

Isabeau tapped her tablet, pulling up a holographic display that shimmered between them. Pack territories glowed in overlapping colors—Crescent holdings in silver, Ozeth lands in deep amber.

The amber consumed nearly half the map.

"Forty-five percent?"

Anna's voice came out as a whisper. "You hold forty-five percent of the influence in the Lunar Empire."

"It's more sophisticated than raw numbers," Isabeau said, navigating through additional data screens. "But yes, Mooncrest's sphere of influence rivals the Crescent Crown in scope. We should continue—you need proper nutrition after your recovery, and there's historical context that requires Master Ozeth's explanation, not mine."

Anna barely heard her. The revelation was staggering. How did I not know? How did no one know?

Isabeau led her through the estate with growing confidence, the nervousness fading as she settled into her role. They passed through corridors lined with portraits—generation after generation of Ozeth Alphas, their eyes seeming to track Anna's progress. Through windows, she glimpsed training grounds where wolves sparred in both human and shifted forms, stables that housed horses with coats that seemed to shimmer like moonlight, and buildings that had stood since before the Crescent Crown existed.

The scent was everywhere—pack bond layered over centuries of habitation, but underneath it all, something else ; Ancientness, primal.

"The Ozeth family has maintained these lands since the First Moon,"

Isabeau explained as they crossed a courtyard. Wolves in human form nodded respectfully as they passed, and Anna caught fragments of conversation in languages she didn't recognize. "Everyone affiliated with our bloodline lives here—pack members, oath-sworn allies, refugees we've granted sanctuary, connected packs who've sworn fealty."

"It's like a nation unto itself," Anna breathed.

"In many ways, it is." Isabeau's expression flickered with something—pride mixed with caution. "Though perhaps Master Ozeth should explain the details. Like I mentioned, i'm not authorized to discuss certain... historical matters."

They wound up in a courtyard café, where the winter sun filtered through the cold air and the scent of fresh pastries made Anna's stomach clench with sudden, fierce hunger. Isabeau ordered for them both while Anna sank into a wrought-iron chair, her mind still reeling.

"Where is JB right now?"

Anna asked as Isabeau set down a plate of delicate fruit tarts and something that smelled like honey and vanilla.

"Most likely at the Cura Et Charitas Institute. He spends more time there than in his own office."

"What's that?"

"The Ozeth foundation for displaced wolves and vulnerable pack members." Isabeau's tone warmed. "Medical care, education, protection for those who have nowhere else to go."

Anna bit into a tart, and flavor exploded across her tongue—goodness, she hadn't realized how hungry she was.

"So the Ozeth pack runs a charity network?"

"That's only part of it."

Isabeau pulled up more data on her tablet. "The family has holdings in global markets—energy sectors, commercial real estate, international trade, sports franchises. If there's an industry, the Ozeth name has influence in it."

Anna nearly choked on her pastry. She'd thought the Ashworth pack—her former mate's bloodline—was the pinnacle of pack wealth and power. She'd thought the Crescent Crown controlled everything that mattered.

"How small my world has been."

"There's more to show you,"

Isabeau prompted gently, though her eyes tracked Anna's enthusiastic approach to the dessert tray with obvious amusement.

"Just one more,"

     Anna pleaded, reaching for something chocolate and decadent. "I haven't eaten real food in days, and everything here tastes like the Moon goddess herself blessed the kitchen."

"As you wish, madam. But we do have a schedule—"

"I promise, just one more bite."

---

"This is your suite."

Isabeau handed over a set of ornate keys, silver worked into wolf-head designs.

Anna stared at the double doors of carved oak, then at the keys in her palm.

"Isabeau, are you certain? This seems—"

"Master Ozeth's orders,"

Isabeau interrupted gently. "You're a guest of honor. Everything within is yours."

Anna pushed open the doors and her breath left her lungs. The suite was palatial—high ceilings with hand-painted constellations, furniture that managed to be both ancient and immaculate, windows overlooking grounds that stretched to a forest line shimmering in the late afternoon light. Even as Luna of her former pack, she'd never had accommodations like this.

"I don't know what to say."

"Master Ozeth will return soon."

Isabeau produced a sleek phone from her pocket. "In the meantime, you're to rest and recover. This is yours—I'm programmed into the contacts. If you need anything, day or night, I'm a call away."

Anna turned the phone over in her hands, the weight of everything settling onto her shoulders. Why is he doing this? What's with the act of generosity?

"Fresh clothing is in the wardrobes, toiletries in the bathroom, everything you should need,"

Isabeau continued, already moving toward the door with renewed efficiency. "Dinner is at seven in the main hall. The entire pack eats together—it's tradition. Master Ozeth would be pleased if you joined us."

"Of course,"

Anna said, still taking in the room. "I'll be there."

"Perfect."

Isabeau paused at the threshold, her hand on the door. "The remaining arrangements will be finalized tomorrow, so don't worry about—"

"Wait."

Anna's voice stopped her. "What arrangements?"

Isabeau's expression shifted—nervousness flooding back, mingled with something else. Uncertainty. Maybe even fear.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken implications. Outside, a wolf howled in the distance, the sound carrying both greeting and warning.

Isabeau's fingers tightened on the door frame. Her heartbeat kicked up—Anna could hear it from across the room.

"Isabeau?"

Anna pressed, her own wolf stirring with unease. "What arrangements are you talking about?"

The young woman's throat worked as she swallowed. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Your protection detail, Madam Anna. Master Ozeth has ordered a full security assessment of your situation."

She paused, meeting Anna's eyes with genuine worry. "Someone's been asking questions about you. Dangerous questions. And Master Ozeth believes they're getting close."

The words hit like claws across skin.

"Someone's hunting me."

Before Anna could respond, Isabeau slipped through the door, closing it with a soft click that sounded like a cell door slamming shut.

Anna stood frozen in the center of her gilded cage, one hand pressed to her belly where new life grew, the other clutching a phone that connected her to a pack she didn't understand.

Outside, the shadows lengthened toward evening, and somewhere in the vast Mooncrest Estate, an Alpha she barely knew was making decisions about her life.

    Decisions that, judging by Isabeau's fear, might mean the difference between survival and destruction.