Chapitre 10: New Bonds, Old Shadows

(Azaria's Point of View)

After the invigorating pack run, I retreated to the sanctity of my quarters to ready to face the day with renewed vigor. The morning air had been crisp, the forest serene as sunlight dappled the ground, filtering through the canopy of leaves above. It had been a perfect run—the kind that momentarily lifted the weight of responsibility from my shoulders. For those brief moments, I had allowed myself to enjoy the natural beauty of the pack's territory, but now reality has come crashing back down on me, the fleeting peace, overshadowed by the realities of my responsibilities.

As I tidied my office, my mind wandered back to one of the council meetings that had defined the direction of our pack. It was years ago, but the memory still lingered, as sharp as ever.

The council chamber had been suffocating that day, thick with the smell of incense and the weight of tradition. I had stood beside Ethan, my palms damp with anticipation, knowing that the future of our pack rested on the proposal I had spent months perfecting. We were there to push forward the integration of humans, witches, and werebeasts—an idea I had fought relentlessly for.

One of the elders, his voice dripping with disdain, had made his position clear. "Allowing outsiders into the pack threatens our very existence," he had said, his gnarled hand gesturing to emphasize the gravity of his words. "Our traditions have kept us strong. What you're suggesting is dangerous."

I had wanted to speak, to counter his argument with the carefully crafted points I had spent nights refining. But before I could, Ethan's voice had cut through the room with practiced authority.

"With all due respect," he had said, his tone smooth and measured, "the world is changing. We must adapt or risk being left behind." His words were nearly identical to the ones I had rehearsed, and yet, it was he who spoke them.

The elders had relaxed slightly, their eyes softening as Ethan spoke. His charisma, his ability to command a room—it was one of the reasons he had risen so quickly. They had listened to him, nodding slowly as he presented the idea as though it had been his own all along.

I had stood there, my heart sinking, as the council warmed to the proposal I had created, their praises already forming in the air, not for me but for him. I had been the one to envision this new future, the one to painstakingly build the strategies and negotiations behind it. Yet Ethan had stood there, effortlessly absorbing the credit.

And he had done it so well—so subtly—that even I had almost believed it was his plan all along. The room had been filled with murmurs of approval, the elders commending his "leadership" and "vision." Not one of them had looked in my direction, though they all knew I had been the driving force behind it. Not one had thought to acknowledge the Luna who had fought tooth and nail for that moment.

I had smiled then, but inside, I was seething. The pride of knowing our pack would grow stronger was overshadowed by the bitter sting of being erased from my own victory.

I sighed, pushing those thoughts aside for now. Today wasn't the day to dwell on the past. Today was about moving forward. As I organized the files on my desk, I heard the familiar sound of approaching footsteps outside my door.

Two wolves. One light, quick on her feet—the other more deliberate. A polite knock followed.

"Come in," I called, already anticipating Adah's arrival.

The door opened, and Adah's bright smile filled the room like sunshine on a cloudy day. She left the door slightly ajar behind her, her energy contagious as she stepped forward. "Luna," she began, practically beaming, "I have brought you my number one pick! If it weren't for her, I'd never have gotten this job. She's a maid too—works on the west wing. Now presenting Stephanie Greyhorn!"

Adah's playful introduction made me chuckle despite myself. She had a way of bringing lightness into any room. Following her cue, a woman with striking red hair and vivid green eyes entered the room. Stephanie carried herself with quiet confidence, a stark contrast to Adah's bubbly demeanor. Her movements were precise, her posture poised. There was an elegance about her that drew my attention immediately.

"Thank you, Adah," I said, giving her a nod of approval. "You may go. If Stephanie is hired, your raise will be issued immediately."

Adah shot Stephanie an encouraging glance before slipping out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind her. Now, it was just the two of us.

I turned to Stephanie, who stood tall, meeting my gaze without hesitation. "Did Adah inform you of the basics required for this position?" I asked, studying her carefully. This wasn't just any maid position. Whoever filled this role would need to possess not only discretion but also a keen understanding of the inner workings of the pack.

"Yes, Luna," Stephanie replied, her tone formal, though there was a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes.

"Please, drop the formalities while we're in private," I said, softening my tone. "You may call me Azaria. I prefer to keep things informal unless the situation requires otherwise."

Stephanie nodded, her expression relaxing ever so slightly. "Understood, Azaria."

I gestured to a stack of documents. "Here are the agreements you'll need to sign. First is a non-disclosure agreement. It ensures that anything you see or hear while working here remains confidential. Second is the loyalty pact. This requires a drop of your blood, binding you to me and ensuring our mutual trust. Lastly, there's your employment contract, which outlines your rights and benefits, including your living arrangements. You'll have a room in the east wing, though if you prefer, there's the option for a private house."

Stephanie listened intently, her eyes scanning the documents as I explained. I watched her carefully, noting how her fingers traced the edges of the papers, as though she were weighing each word. After a moment, she hesitated, looking up at me with a hint of uncertainty.

"Ma'am," she began cautiously, "I'm sorry, but I can't sign this. I fear my personal life might interfere with my duties."

I leaned back slightly, appreciating her honesty. "I understand your concern, but this contract is designed to protect you. Your personal life is your own. As long as your duties are fulfilled, there will be no interference. If you agree to the terms, I would like you to reconsider. If not, I will respect your decision."

There was a long pause as she considered my words, her eyes searching mine for any signs of deceit. Then, after a moment of reflection, she nodded and took the quill from the desk. But as I handed the stack of documents over to Stephanie, I watched her closely. Her fingers trembled as they brushed the edges of the parchment, her silence as she read through the agreements heavy with unspoken words.

The room thickened with tension. I could feel a quiet storm behind her calm facade. Her hands lingered over the loyalty pact, the quill hovering just above the parchment.

"These are straightforward documents," I said, my voice calm but laced with a subtle warning. "But the pact you're about to sign isn't just a formality. It binds you to me, and in return, I offer my protection. You will be privy to things few others in this pack know. Understand the weight of that before you sign."

Stephanie's eyes lifted to meet mine, and for a split second, something flickered across her face—doubt, or perhaps fear. She hesitated, the quill trembling just above the parchment as if the ink would carry her deepest secrets. I leaned forward slightly, not breaking eye contact.

"Do you have something you wish to say?" I asked, my tone sharpening. "If there's anything troubling you about the position or pay, now is the time to speak."

Her green eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I thought she might confess something—something heavy. Her lips parted slightly, and I could sense the internal struggle, the hesitation, the vulnerability. But then, just as quickly, her composure returned, the mask slipping back into place.

"I..." Stephanie faltered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to make sure I'm prepared for what this role entails."

I raised an eyebrow. "The role requires loyalty, discretion, and the ability to anticipate my needs without question. Anything less is unacceptable."

Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she pricked her finger for the blood pact. The air between us crackled with magic as the drop of blood hit the parchment, sealing the loyalty pact between us. More than that, I felt the weight of something deeper between us—something unrecognizable. But then again, I know, this isn't just another maid. She knew more than she let on, and I had a growing suspicion that her loyalty wasn't as unwavering as I demanded.

"You'll start tomorrow," I said, my tone more pointed now. "I expect nothing less than absolute dedication."

Stephanie nodded, though her gaze remained distant for a heartbeat too long. The tension in the air was palpable, and as she turned to leave, I caught the faintest scent of something sweet in the room. It was barely there—almost imperceptible—but it tugged at something deep within me. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I had bigger issues to deal with.

As the door closed behind Stephanie, the silence in the room was deafening. There was something different about her, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I had no doubt she would fulfill her duties, but at what cost?

Stephanie's Point of View

As I left the Luna's quarters, the weight of the loyalty pact pressed against me like an iron chain. The drop of blood that had sealed the bond felt more permanent than I had anticipated. I had just sworn my loyalty to Azaria, the Luna of the pack—a woman I admired more than I would ever admit. But my heart was tangled in something far more complicated.

Ethan. The Alpha. My secret.

For the past three years, I've been his. To the pack, I'm just another maid, but behind closed doors, I'm the one who holds him together. He needs me. From the beginning, he was everything I thought I wanted—attentive, charming, and always knowing exactly how to make me feel special. He told me how the Luna didn't love him, how she didn't touch him. He was lonely, he said, trapped in a relationship without affection. My heart ached for him. How could I not fall for someone who seemed to need me so desperately?

For years, we kept things intimate but careful, never crossing that final line. But a few days ago, everything changed. He came to me, more intense, more insistent than ever before, and we went all the way. It felt like a turning point, like I was finally the one truly filling the void in his life. He hadn't marked me yet, but I knew it was only a matter of time.

My hand drifted to my neck, where no mark lay, but I reminded myself of his words. "When the time is right," he had whispered, "I'll make you mine, completely." And I believed him. I had to. After all, why would he come to me again and again, tell me how much he needed me, if it wasn't real?

I sighed, pushing away the flicker of doubt. He loves me. I'm the one who understands him, who listens to him when no one else will. He wouldn't have stayed with me for so long if I didn't matter to him, if I wasn't important.

Yet, lately, I've been thinking more about the Luna. She's unlike anyone I've ever seen. Her deep, rich brown skin is like polished mahogany, glowing under the slightest touch of light. Her eyes, intense and luminous, are impossible to look away from. And her hair—those tight, coiled curls—frame her face like a halo, cascading down her back in long, thick waves that only add to her ethereal, almost regal beauty. Each curl seems meticulously defined, embracing its natural texture. She carries herself with grace and elegance, and her fashion is always striking, blending traditional elements with something daring and bold.

Sometimes, when I see her, I can't help but feel a pang of admiration. She's confident, poised—everything I'm not. I've often caught myself watching her, wondering what it would be like to have that kind of presence, that kind of quiet power. How could someone like her be distant or cold? But Ethan had explained it. He said she was untouchable, emotionally closed off.

Still, I can't deny the small, nagging thought in the back of my mind. What if she isn't as cold as he says? I've seen the way she moves, how she interacts with the pack. She's not harsh, she's… commanding, but gentle. Maybe there's something I don't understand. But then, I remind myself of Ethan's words—how he needs me because Azaria doesn't care for him the way I do. I'm the one who fills that void in his life.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I was overthinking. Ethan loved me. He had said it enough times for me to know it was true. He wouldn't keep coming back if I wasn't the one he truly needed.

As I walked down the hallway, I glanced out the window, the scent of wildflowers drifting in through the breeze. My wolf stirred within me, sensing my unease. But I pushed it aside. This was where I belonged. With Ethan. I had to believe in what we had.

(Azaria's Point of View)

Later that evening, I was preparing for bed when Ethan barged into the room, his face set in a familiar scowl. His presence filled the space with tension, his frustration practically radiating off him.

"Why do you need an aide?" he demanded, his voice sharp. "You're perfectly capable."

I met his gaze, keeping my voice steady. "Either something is medically wrong with me," I replied, "or there's another cause—perhaps infidelity—that's causing these unexplained symptoms. Either way, we need to find the source. If you're so unhappy with how I'm moving, maybe separation is something we should try to discuss again."

For the first time in months, Ethan seemed caught off guard. His usual arrogance faltered for just a moment, and I could see the gears turning in his mind. He wasn't used to being confronted by me—especially not about something so serious.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice tight with suppressed anger. "We'll figure something out. Until then, do as you must."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving me in the quiet dark. His response had been brief, but I knew my words had landed. For once, he seemed to grasp the gravity of what I was saying.

As I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts swirled. How had I allowed things to get this bad? How had I, a strong and capable young powerhouse, ended up being manipulated by a man like Ethan? I had allowed him to control too much, to take too much credit for my work. But no longer.

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