Romans & histoires Petra Levi

Meeting Petra. At the general Monday meetings, the next week Amber resumed, there was a lady in attendant who Amber had not met before, she was a contract staff and only comes when needed, she handles the painting and some other finishes job for the company, while the chief technical officer gave a run down of the progress of work and the next phase target, Petra who is the strange person to Amber raised her hand to say something, she asked when the screeding on the block of flats will be completed and when the painting can commence, the technical officer answered her and the meeting continued, Amber leaned toward Jen who was sitting beside and asked quietly, “Jen, who is the lady there" she

The most physical comfort I've seen him offer anyone. Callum looks at the documents. "Petra Adair. Is she working for Pryce?" "We don't know yet," I say. "But we need to find out." Isobel has a preliminary background on Petra Adair within the hour. She lays it out on the study desk with the efficient brevity of someone who has learned to deliver bad news quickly. At this point she doesn't even surprise me. I'm used to her being so efficient Petra Adair. Thirty-one years old. Independent fundraising consultant. Moderate social profile. No obvious pack affiliation in any public record.

⸻ Laurent International felt different when she entered as a liability instead of an heir. People avoided her eyes. Conversations lowered. Doors closed just a little faster. Margaux’s presence hovered everywhere—through assistants, memos, quiet instructions passed down the chain of command. Vivienne wasn’t openly forbidden from speaking. She was simply never given the opportunity. At noon, Petra guided her into a private conference room. “You have a call,” Petra said. “Approved.” Vivienne arched an eyebrow. “How generous.” Petra flushed faintly but said nothing. The screen lit up.

All around her were shelves of documents, years of intelligence records, pack politics, void research, and personal histories of everyone who had ever passed through this place. “You can turn around,” I said. She turned around. Petra was thirty years old, slight and dark-haired, with careful eyes that had always made her look like she was reading a page of text even when she was just looking at a person. Right now those eyes were doing something I had not seen in them before. Not fear. Not guilt. Calculation. Still calculating, even now. “How long have you known?” she asked. “The Moon Goddess gave me your name twenty minutes ago.”

Probably some guy gave her a fake number in the bar. "I know what it is. But who are you?" She again asks me anxiously. "I am secretary of the President of the Damison Group. My name is Ethan Stone." I reply to her irritatingly, as she is wasting my time. I need to go home and take a lavender bath with my rubber ducks.

Reston's financial investigation produced a name within two weeks of authorization, and the name was not one any of us had expected. The Covenant financial accounts had been designed by a woman named Petra Solano, a supernatural financial architect who had served the Covenant's treasury division for thirty years before the Montana assault. She had been on the coalition's original list of Covenant operatives to locate and question, had been marked as low priority because she held no combat or leadership role, and had quietly slipped through the gaps of a very large net.

The name Dmitri gave me is Petra. Not Damon's sister. The other Petra, the one who has been at the compound's communal table for months, the senior crew member whose last name I have had on a personnel file since she was contracted eighteen months ago and whose history I ran through standard checks and found clean. She is thirty-two years old, raised alone by her mother in a city four hours from here. She came to the compound because the affiliate network had a position and she needed work.

"Eli! Wait up!" I turned to see Petra jogging toward me. She was one of the few people I’d met during orientation who didn't make me want to roll my eyes, and she was a theater major with bright purple streaks in her hair and a personality that was way too bubbly for nine in the morning. "Did you actually just do that?" she asked, catching her breath as she reached me. "Do what?" I asked, starting to walk toward the dining hall. "You sat in Cain Calloway’s chair, Eli. People have seriously been kicked out of the program for less. Okay, that’s a lie, but still. You basically told the king of the school to kick rocks. Do you even know who they are?"

**** "Life is tough. But every challenge makes a person stronger. It is up to you if you are going to step forward or take a step back. Just don't forget to pray and ask for guidance from our creator above. I am Angela, who has in mind that pure love is impossible for a prostitute like me but changed when a brave man proved it is possible. I am now signing off." The End.

I opt out the details purposely because it feels too private to say these things, even if they might be an open secret in the pack for all I know. Clarissa gnawed at her bottom lip, no doubt weighing her options, before she took a shuddering breath and looked at me. “I will tell you but please don’t tell Margaret.” There was fear in her eyes and at that moment, I knew she was risking a lot. I nodded somberly, wordlessly agreeing to her plea. She swallowed visibly. “It is..it is said that…that Luna Sierra is the true mate of the former Alpha of this pack.” She paused, her gaze flickering from the ground to me before they lowered again. I guessed slightly.