Stella's POV

The morning sunlight spilled through the curtains like gold dust, but it couldn't warm me. It had been weeks since the bar, weeks since his voice - that voice that shattered me, told me I wasn't enough.

The world kept spinning as if nothing had happened, yet inside me, something was stuck between silence and screaming. I hadn't stepped outside in days. The walls of my small apartment had become my refuge and my punishment all at once.

Talia arrived unannounced, her usual whirlwind of perfume and chatter breaking through the dull rhythm of my thoughts. She dropped her bag on the couch and turned to me with a look that said she was tired of waiting for me to move on.

"You look awful," she said bluntly. "And before you glare at me, yes, I mean that as a friend."

I forced a weak smile. "Thanks, Talia. I've been practicing."

She rolled her eyes and joined me on the sofa. "You've been avoiding work, ignoring calls, and I swear if I see one more of those untouched soup bowls in your sink, I'm calling the health department."

"I can't go back there," I whispered. "Not after what happened. Everyone saw it. Everyone knows."

"Knows what?" she pressed. "That some jerk with an ego the size of a mountain couldn't see your worth? Please, Stella, if that's enough to end your life, you've been living for the wrong reasons."

Her words stung, but maybe that was what I needed, to feel something other than this strange emptiness. I wrapped my arms around myself and stared at the window.

The dreams had returned last night, more vivid than ever. Him, his eyes glowing like moonlight, his voice calling my name in the dark forest of my mind. I used to wake up trembling, but lately, the fear had turned into something else. A pull. A need I couldn't explain.

"They're getting worse," I murmured.

Talia frowned. "The dreams again?"

I nodded. "They're so real, Talia. I feel him there. Every time I wake, it's like he's standing right beside me."

"You're overthinking," she said softly. "You've been through trauma. It messes with your head."

I wanted to believe that, but deep down I knew it wasn't just my mind playing tricks. Something about that man, about Alexander, had attached itself to my soul, like a mark I couldn't wash off.

Before Talia could reply, a sharp knock echoed from the door. We both froze.

"You expecting someone?" she asked.

I shook my head and stood, hesitating before unlocking it. A tall man in a black coat stood outside, crisp and formal, like he had stepped out of another world.

He held a small brown envelope and offered it to me with a polite bow.

"Miss Stella Beilingham?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"I was sent to deliver this. Your appointment has been approved."

"My... appointment?" I blinked, confused.

He smiled, the kind of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Your employment offer. The family is expecting you today."

I stared at him. "There must be a mistake. I didn't apply for anything."

"Perhaps not recently," he said smoothly, "but your credentials were impressive. The position is urgent, live, in nanny, generous pay, excellent conditions. They'll handle your transportation and continue your medical treatments if necessary."

Talia stood, suspicion flashing across her face. "Hold on, who exactly sent you?"

The man didn't look at her. His attention remained fixed on me. "The family prefers discretion. You'll understand once you arrive."

Something about his tone - calm, confident, final, sent a chill through me. I glanced at the envelope. My name was written in neat cursive across the front. No logo, no signature. Just Stella Beilingham.

I should have asked more questions. I should have refused. But a part of me - the desperate, restless part, saw it as a chance. A way out of the hole I had fallen into. A new beginning.

"How soon would I start?" I asked.

"Immediately," he said. "A car is waiting outside."

Talia gaped. "Stella, you can't just...."

"I need this," I said, surprising even myself. "I can't keep sitting here, Talia. Maybe it's time to move forward."

"By following a stranger to who knows where?"

I gave a shaky laugh. "It's just a nanny job. What's the worst that could happen?"

Her frown deepened. "That sentence never ends well in movies."

I tried to keep my voice light, but inside, my stomach twisted. Still, I went to my small room, folding clothes with hands that trembled slightly.

The dreams had shown me forests, silver moons, strange houses I didn't recognize, and for some reason, as I packed, I couldn't shake the feeling that this job was leading me straight into one of them.

Talia followed me to the door. "Please call me when you get there," she said. "Promise?"

"I promise," I lied, though I wasn't sure why it felt like a lie.

The man loaded my bags into the back of a sleek black car. The moment I stepped inside, a faint scent filled the air, something familiar. Woodsmoke and rain. My pulse stumbled.

"Where exactly am I going?" I asked as the car pulled away from the curb.

"To the Calum estate," the driver replied without turning.

The name hit me like a physical blow. Calum. My breath caught. The car kept moving, tires whispering over the road as the city faded behind us.

I pressed a hand to my chest. "There must be some mistake," I said softly. "I can't"

But the driver only looked at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes cold and knowing. "Fate doesn't make mistakes, Miss Beilingham."

The world outside blurred into trees and mist. My heart hammered against my ribs. Every instinct screamed that I should tell him to stop, that I should run back, that this was too strange, too fast, too deliberate. But another voice - deeper, quieter - whispered that this was where I was meant to go.

When the gates came into view, tall and iron-black, the moon broke through the clouds above, washing everything in silver. For a second, I could have sworn the wind carried a voice, low, familiar, and full of longing.

You can't escape me, Stella.

I turned toward the sound, but there was only darkness beyond the trees.

The car rolled forward through the gates. The sound of them closing behind us echoed like a heartbeat, heavy, final, and certain.

And just like that, I realized the one place I had sworn never to return to was waiting at the end of the road.

Stella pov

The car slowed to a stop before a house that looked more like a world of its own. High stone walls rose against the horizon, their tops crowned with climbing roses and creeping ivy. The gate closed behind us with a sound that made my stomach tighten. The silence here wasn't ordinary. It was the kind that listened back.

I stepped out slowly, the air cool and rich with the scent of pine and something faintly metallic - power, maybe, if power had a smell. The driver said nothing as he carried my bags toward the grand staircase. Every step I took echoed in the courtyard like a small trespass.

The front doors opened before I could reach them. A woman stood framed in the golden light spilling from inside. She was older, with silver hair pulled neatly back, wearing a soft smile that didn't match the cold elegance of the house. Her eyes, however, were kind-bright, assessing, alive.

"You must be Miss Beilingham," she said. Her voice carried the soft authority of someone used to being obeyed. "Welcome, my dear. You've had a long journey."

"Yes, ma'am," I murmured, my voice small in the vast hall.

"Oh, don't call me ma'am." She waved her hand as if brushing away the title. "Call me Grandmother Calum, or just Grandmother if you prefer. I don't stand much on formalities. You must be tired. Come, child."

I followed her inside, my shoes tapping against marble floors so polished I could see my reflection in them. The hall stretched endlessly, with portraits lining the walls - men with sharp eyes and wolfish features, women cloaked in mystery and pride. The air felt old, heavy with stories.

Grandmother Calum moved gracefully, though age had clearly slowed her. She guided me past tall windows draped in velvet and chandeliers that shimmered like captured stars.

"You'll be staying in the east wing," she said warmly. "It's quieter there, and you'll have the best view of the gardens. You'll be caring for me, but truthfully, my dear, I suspect you'll end up brightening this whole house. It's been far too empty lately."

Her words loosened something tight in my chest. For the first time in weeks, I felt seen,not pitied, not judged, just seen.

"Thank you," I said softly. "This place is beautiful."

She smiled. "It's old. Older than most of the families in this region. But beauty can be a curse if left without laughter. I have a feeling you'll bring that back."

A maid appeared to carry my bags upstairs, and I followed. The guest room she led me to looked like something out of a dream - wide bed, white curtains, sunlight spilling across antique furniture. I sat at the edge of the bed and touched the soft quilt, still unsure if any of this was real.

"Rest, dear," Grandmother Calum said. "We'll talk more over dinner. You've arrived just in time. My grandson should be home tonight."

Her voice softened on the word grandson, as if it held equal parts pride and pain. I smiled faintly and nodded, unaware that the name she didn't speak was the one that haunted my dreams.

After she left, I wandered to the window. The estate stretched out below, acres of wild garden, the forest pressing close, the faint glow of lanterns flickering at the edge of the trees. Something about it made my heart beat faster. It felt familiar, like stepping into a memory I didn't know I had.

As twilight deepened, exhaustion pulled at me. I changed into something comfortable and lay down, meaning only to rest for a few minutes. The bed seemed to cradle me in warmth. My eyes drifted shut before I realized it.

****ALEXANDER'S POV

The scent of pine and smoke clung to me as I stepped inside, the quiet of the hall wrapping around me like a living thing. The house always felt like this-old, vast, watching. My boots barely made a sound, but my presence filled the space all the same.

My jaw was tight, my thoughts still tangled with the day's troubles, territorial disputes, pack politics, and the endless prattle of those who thought they understood leadership.

None of it compared to the irritation I'd felt when my grandmother's summons arrived, written in her sharp, slanted hand, demanding I come home because she had something important to discuss.

"Grandmother?" My voice echoed softly through the hall.

She appeared at the foot of the stairs, leaning on her cane, her gaze sharp as ever. "Alexander, my boy. You're late."

"I had matters to settle," I said evenly.

"Matters," she repeated, with that knowing look that made me feel twelve again. "The kind that never end. Sit, dear. We need to talk."

I sighed but followed her into the sitting room. The firelight flickered against the walls, throwing gold across my reflection in the window. For a fleeting moment, I saw the boy I used to be-before the curse settled on our bloodline, before fate started writing my life for me.

"You've been restless," Grandmother said, pouring tea as if it were a ritual. "I can see it in your eyes. Tell me the truth, Alexander. Have you found her?"

I froze. "Found who?"

"Your mate."

I kept my face still, but the tension in my shoulders betrayed me. "I don't have a mate, Grandmother."

Her gaze sharpened, the way it always did when she smelled a lie. "Every alpha meets his fated one eventually. The Moon does not make mistakes."

I met her eyes, my voice low. "Maybe she did this time."

"Careful with your words," she warned, her tone firm. "You sound like your father when you doubt destiny."

"I'm nothing like him," I said flatly.

She sighed, setting her cup aside, then rested a hand on my shoulder. "You deny it because you're afraid. Afraid of what she might awaken in you."

I said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"Come," she said at last, turning toward the staircase. "You'll have dinner with us. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Reluctantly, I followed her up the stairs. My steps were heavy, my thoughts darker with each one. I wasn't in the mood to entertain anyone-especially not someone she'd chosen. My heart still ached with the memory of that night, the sight of a girl with trembling hands and eyes that had no place in my world.

We reached the east wing. The door to the guest room was slightly ajar, soft light spilling from within.

"Stella," Grandmother called gently, pushing the door open. "Dear, I thought you might like to meet my grandson."

The words had barely left her lips before I froze.

She was there.

Stella lay on the bed, turned slightly toward the light, her hair a soft spill across the pillow. For one suspended breath, neither of us moved. Her eyes fluttered open-slow, hazy with sleep-before widening in disbelief.

Our gazes locked. The air thickened, pulsing with something I couldn't name but could feel deep in my bones.

Grandmother's voice cut through the silence, curious and sharp. "Do you two know each other?"

It took a heartbeat too long for me to answer.

"No," I said quickly, my voice rougher than I intended. "We've never met."

Stella forced a smile, faint and trembling. "No, ma'am. Never."

Grandmother smiled faintly, though I caught the narrowing of her eyes. "Interesting," she murmured. "Very interesting."

Seth's POV

The night bled silver through the curtains, a soft shimmer against the whiskey glass in my hand. I swirled the liquid absently, watching it catch the moonlight. The taste had long gone dull to me, but the ritual remained. It calmed the itch beneath my skin-that endless hum of wanting, waiting, scheming.

Fate had always favored those who dared to cheat her.

And I was nothing if not daring.

Across the dim room, the phone buzzed once. I didn't move. The vibration was subtle, deliberate. My signal. The old woman had taken the bait.

A smile curved my lips as I rose, setting the glass aside. I had spent weeks whispering through channels that only the desperate and the faithful still used, the kind of people who believed in signs, in divine nudges, in the Moon's will.

All it took was a single word, a single nudge in the right ear, and Alexander's grandmother, the pack's most revered elder had become my mouthpiece without ever realizing it.

"She's perfect," I had told her softly that night, my voice hidden beneath static. "The girl is kind, good with children, steady. Just what the young Alpha's household needs."

The old woman had heard the lie she wanted to believe. She had taken it as divine guidance. She had called the agency herself.

And now, Stella Bellingham was under the same roof as Alexander Calum.

The irony was exquisite.

I walked toward the window, watching the faint light spilling over the vast estate below. I could almost see her there-the girl with the trembling hands and lost eyes, the one who didn't even realize the kind of power sleeping in her veins. The power that could make me what I was born to be.

She was meant for him, yes. But what did fate matter when I could bend it?

The sound of heels echoed behind me, sharp and quick. The door opened, and she slipped in. Hazel.

Her perfume filled the room before her voice did. Sweet, cloying, and a little desperate. She was beautiful in that shallow way that made men stupid. That was why I had chosen her.

"You called," she said, shutting the door with her hip. Her red lips curved into something that wanted to be a smile. "You don't usually call twice."

I turned to face her, taking my time. "You were useful once. I need you to be again."

Her brows lifted slightly. "Still about Alexander?"

"Always about Alexander," I said, stepping closer until she could feel the weight of my presence. Hazel tried not to flinch, but I saw the tension in her throat. "You remember the plan."

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "You want me to make him fall for me again?"

"No," I said, voice dropping to a whisper. "I want you to keep him distracted. You'll remind him what it's like to be wanted without pain. You'll make him forget the human girl, long enough for me to make her mine."

Her smile faltered. "You mean Stella."

"Yes."

Hazel hesitated, searching my face for a trace of softness. "You really think she'll ever look at you the way she looks at him?"

For a heartbeat, the room went still. Then I smiled, the kind that made people uneasy.

"She will," I said simply. "They all do. In the end, they always do."

Hazel laughed once, hollow and brittle. "You sound like a man possessed."

"Maybe I am." I turned away again, watching the night through the window. "But not by love, Hazel. By purpose."

She took a step closer. "And what happens when he finds out you were the one who sent her there? That you're behind all this?"

I glanced at her reflection in the glass, my smile widening. "He won't. He's too blinded by his pride. Alexander sees only what he wants to see. That's his weakness."

Hazel's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. "And what about Stella's weakness?"

That question earned her a long, thoughtful silence. I imagined Stella again, her wide, uncertain eyes, the gentle tremor in her voice.

Her weakness wasn't naivety. It was compassion. That endless need to fix, to care, to believe in goodness even when surrounded by wolves.

It made her irresistible.

"She wants to heal people," I murmured. "Even those who hurt her. That's what will ruin her. And what will make her mine."

Hazel crossed her arms, uneasy now. "You talk about her like she's some kind of prize."

"She is." I faced her fully this time, eyes dark. "Through her, I'll have what I was denied. The pack. The power. The name."

"You mean the title," Hazel said softly. "Alpha."

The word hummed in the air like a promise.

I stepped close enough for her perfume to turn suffocating. "Do what I told you. Keep Alexander occupied. Stay close. If he pulls away, pull harder. Make him believe you're the only one who sees him."

Hazel nodded slowly, her throat tightening. "And what do I get?"

My hand brushed her jaw, a touch that wasn't quite tender. "Everything you can take before he breaks your heart again."

She left soon after, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The room fell silent again, but it wasn't empty. I could feel it - the echo of power stirring in the distance. Her power.

I moved to the table, spreading out the papers that mapped the hierarchy of the packs, the bloodlines, the prophecies whispered by those who still remembered the old ways. In the center, one name burned in ink: Stella Bellingham.

I traced it with my finger, the ghost of a smile returning to my lips.

"You were born to stand beside a king," I whispered. "You just didn't know the king was me."

Outside, the wind shifted, carrying the faintest echo of a howl across the valley. Somewhere deep inside me, something answered, low, dark, and hungry.

Fate had chosen Alexander Calum.

But I was going to rewrite her story.

And this time, the moon would rise for me.