***VERA***

The night felt long. The moon was bright and full, shining through the trees. Crickets chirped softly, and the wind rustled the leaves. The sound was calm, steady. It gave me a bit of comfort, even though my heart stayed restless.

"Bear with me. We'll be there soon," Alpha Conry whispered close to my ear. His voice was crisp, like dry leaves brushing the ground. My pulse jumped when his lips brushed my skin. I'd never felt that kind of warmth before. It scared me, but it also drew me closer without asking.

"Okay, sir," I said quietly. I turned my head away and pressed my fingers to the spot his lips had touched. It burned in a way I didn't want to admit.

"Do you know why I bought you from Blake?" he asked, holding my chin and making me look at him. His eyes were sharp but calm, like he could see everything I was hiding.

"No," I whispered. My voice was too weak for more.

"Your strength caught my eye. You don't bend to pressure," he said. His words hit harder than I expected. Then he moved ahead, spoke quietly to one of his men, and returned.

The man he spoke to looked strong. Tall, dark hair, scars running down his arm like stories written in skin. I could tell he had seen war.

"We're here," Conry said, patting my back lightly.

The mist grew thicker, wrapping everything in white. I couldn't see the castle at first. Then, slowly, its shape appeared through the fog-tall walls, dark stone, towers that seemed to touch the sky. The moonlight made it look alive. Warm lights glowed behind the windows.

Even though it was late, the castle wasn't asleep. Voices filled the courtyard. Merchants moved goods. People talked and laughed. It felt strange to see so much life at night. My old pack was never like this.

One building stood taller and brighter than the rest. That was his. Conry held my hand and led me forward with a faint smile.

"Welcome to my castle," he said with quiet pride. There was no arrogance, only confidence.

We stepped inside. The air was warm and smelled of wood, smoke, and something sweet. The walls were lined with old carvings, and the torches made them glow gold. Servants moved quickly, eyes curious but respectful. I lifted my head higher. I was used to stares.

For a moment, I thought about all I had left behind-Blake, the way he looked at me like I was less; the way my sister was chosen instead; the shame, the anger; and the night I ran until my legs gave out.

Conry squeezed my hand, pulling me back to the present. "You didn't break tonight," he said softly. "That's rare."

I didn't know what to say, so I whispered, "I did what I had to."

His eyes stayed on mine. Then he leaned down and kissed my forehead. The touch was light-not like Blake's rough hands, not like the people who only saw me as nothing.

The castle buzzed with life. The mist still hung outside, but for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel like I was standing alone in the dark.

I didn't know what would happen next, or if I could trust him. But right there, with his hand in mine and the castle lights on my face, I felt something shift inside me-something quiet, something new.

"Clean her up and prepare her for the banquet," he told one of the maids who greeted us at the door. His tone was soft but firm.

"Yes, sir," she said, taking my hand gently. "My name is Rachel. Tell me if you need anything." She smiled brightly.

"Sure... thank you," I replied, still unsure of the kindness. Going from being a reject to someone treated with care felt unreal. I only hoped it wasn't another illusion.

The scent of roses filled the bath chamber; steam drifted from the half-open door. Everything smelled rich and warm, and my chest thudded as I stepped inside. When she opened the door fully, I gasped. Two wide tubs waited, filled with hot water and petals floating on the surface.

"Get in. I'll bring you clean clothes," Rachel said with a smile before leaving.

I hesitated, then dipped my foot in. The warmth spread through me, soft and soothing. Soon, I sank under the surface. The night's pain seemed to melt away. Only the sting of bruises remained, but even that faded slowly. I closed my eyes and stayed there for a long while.

When I stepped out, Rachel returned with two dresses-one red, trimmed with silver beads, and another black, simple yet elegant.

"Which would you like for the banquet, milady?" she asked, bowing playfully.

I smiled faintly. "The black one."

"Good choice," she said with a grin.

The dress fit perfectly, as if it had been made for me. When I was ready, Rachel led me to the dining hall.

The hallway was quiet except for the sound of my steps. The air carried the smell of roasted meat and herbs. My palms grew damp as we reached a tall oak door.

"Go in," she said softly before stepping aside.

I pushed it open.

The room was dim but warm, lit by golden candles that flickered along the walls. A long table stretched between us, but only two plates were set-one for him, one for me. Alpha Conry sat at the far end, calm as ever. His dark eyes followed me as I walked closer.

"You came," he said, voice low and steady.

"Yes, Alpha," I replied, bowing slightly.

"Sit."

I sat down. The servants filled our glasses, then slipped away, leaving only the soft crackle of fire.

"You clean up well," he said.

"Thank you," I murmured.

He leaned back, studying me. "You're not what they say."

"What do they say?" I asked, curious.

"That you're fragile," he replied. "But I've seen you stand when others would fall. You don't break easily. That's rare."

The words caught me off guard. No one had ever said my strength was something good.

"I just do what I must," I said quietly.

He smiled faintly. "That's what strength really is."

The food arrived-roasted meat, bread, and a thick, sweet sauce. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I began to eat.

"Do you like it?" Conry asked.

"It's good," I said honestly.

He chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The silence that followed was calm, almost comforting.

"I didn't bring you here out of pity, Vera," he said at last. His tone was firm but kind. "I brought you because I want you to be my Luna. Since I first saw you, there's been a pull I can't explain."

I looked up at him, heart pounding. His eyes were steady, sincere.

He lifted his glass. "To a new beginning," he said.

I raised mine slowly. "Cheers," I whispered. Our glasses touched softly, the sound echoing in the quiet hall.

I searched his face for a crack in his calm, but found none. Then he stood and patted my back gently. "Think about it and give me your answer tomorrow," he said before walking out of the hall.

Could he truly want someone like me as his Luna? Or was I just another piece in a game I didn't understand?

Questions filled my mind as I walked back to my room. Each one heavier than the last.

***CONRY***

Returning to my room, the weight of the night finally settled on my shoulders. The visit to Blake had drained more out of me than I cared to admit. My head ached, my body sore from travel, but it was the memories of the day that truly tired me.

I sank onto my bed with a quiet sigh. The sheets were cool against my skin, grounding. For a moment, I just stared at the ceiling, watching the faint shadows from the torches dance across the stone. The castle had grown silent; even the air seemed to rest.

A gentle knock broke the stillness.

"You called for me," a familiar voice said softly through the door.

"Come in," I replied.

The door creaked open, and Esther stepped in. She moved with the same calm grace she always had - a kind of peace that followed her like a scent. Since my mother's passing, she had become a quiet constant in my life - not as family, but as something close.

I straightened. "What's your honest opinion about Vera?" I asked, my voice low.

She smiled - that small, knowing smile that always came before truth. "I see the way you look at her," she teased lightly. "She'll make a fine partner. I tested her earlier - she passed with grace."

Her words loosened something inside me. Esther didn't give compliments easily. If she spoke well of Vera, then perhaps I wasn't chasing a fleeting feeling.

"Thank you, Esther. That will be all," I said, leaning back.

She nodded, her eyes soft but perceptive, and quietly left. Her footsteps faded down the hall, swallowed by the hush of the night.

Alone again, I tried to rest. But sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her - Vera. The way she stood, composed yet uncertain. The way her eyes held strength and fear in equal measure. I had seen many women before, but none quite like her.

I told myself to wait for morning. But my heart was impatient.

After a long moment of struggle, I rose, poured water into a basin, and splashed my face. The chill sharpened my thoughts. I reached for my fragrance oil - pine, warm and steady - and dabbed a little along my neck. It wasn't vanity; it was a habit of clarity. The scent always reminded me to be composed.

I didn't know if I was being bold or foolish. Maybe both. But I couldn't rest with her image burning behind my eyes.

The corridors were still. Golden armor plates lined the walls, reflecting the flickering light of torches. My steps echoed faintly on the stone, steady and rhythmic, almost in time with my heartbeat. With each step, it grew louder - heavier - as if urging me forward.

By the time I reached her door, my pulse was wild. I hesitated, then knocked twice.

Almost instantly, the door opened - as if she had been awake, waiting.

"Hi," I said softly, my voice lower than I meant it to be. "I'm sorry to intrude this late."

She shook her head gently. "It's fine," she said, stepping aside.

Her room felt different from mine - warmer somehow. The faint scent of rosemary and fresh wood lingered in the air. Moonlight poured in through the window, washing the space in silver. Everything about it felt quiet, safe, and almost sacred.

"Have a seat," she said, gesturing toward a chair beside her bed. Her tone was calm, but her eyes flickered with something uncertain.

I nodded, but I couldn't take my eyes off her. The linen she wore shimmered faintly in the light, catching on the edges of her shoulders. She looked soft - yet there was something strong in the way she held herself.

Before I could think, I stepped closer. My hands moved almost on their own, resting lightly at her waist. I leaned down, searching her eyes for refusal. When it didn't come, I tilted my head and brushed my lips against hers.

The moment our lips touched, the world seemed to slow. Her breath hitched softly, and for a second, everything else - the walls, the silence, the weight of my position - vanished. There was only her warmth, her scent, the trembling stillness between us.

Then she made a small, uneasy sound - barely there, but enough. I froze. I wanted to stop, but my heart beat too loudly to think. My fingers lingered against her side before I forced them to still.

In that pause, realization struck me. She was innocent. Completely.

A wave of regret rushed through me. I drew back slowly, breathing hard, guilt coiling in my chest. "I should have been more patient," I whispered.

Her eyes met mine, and I saw it - relief. Not fear, not judgment. Relief. That look hit harder than any wound ever could.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, my voice heavier now. "I didn't know you were a virgin."

I sank into the chair beside her bed. My pulse was still erratic, but my mind had gone still.

I expected embarrassment or silence from her - maybe even anger - but instead, she smiled. It was soft, shy, and utterly disarming.

"I don't think I would've regretted it," she whispered. "If you were my first."

Her words stopped the air in my lungs. I just looked at her, unsure if I was hearing right. She wasn't playing games. Her eyes were too honest for that.

Something inside me shifted. The tension, the doubt, all of it fell away.

I reached for her hand, holding it gently between mine. Her skin was warm, grounding. "Please," I said, my voice steady now, "be my mate. Help me build something lasting - something real."

It wasn't a demand. It wasn't even a plea. It was truth.

She looked away shyly, her voice small but clear. "Sure."

The word hung in the air, soft and certain.

I smiled - not wide, but real. For the first time in a long while, I felt peace. The storm inside me eased, replaced by quiet warmth.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the faint crackle of the torches outside and the slow rhythm of our breathing.

I rose slowly, still holding her gaze. "Get some rest," I said. "You've had a long day."

She nodded, though her eyes lingered on me in a way that made it hard to leave. I turned toward the door, my hand brushing the handle, when I felt a soft tug at my sleeve.

I turned.

Before I could ask, she leaned in and pressed her lips gently to mine - a quick, uncertain kiss, but one that set my chest on fire.

It wasn't passion this time. It was something else - quiet, brave, and full of unspoken things.

When she pulled back, her cheeks flushed. "Good night, Alpha," she whispered.

I couldn't find my voice for a moment. Then I nodded, managing a small smile. "Good night, Vera."

As I stepped into the hallway, the air felt colder than before. My pulse hadn't slowed; it was still hammering, echoing through me.

By the time I reached my room, her kiss was still there - faint on my lips, stubborn in my mind. I sat on the edge of my bed, running a hand through my hair, and let out a long, quiet breath.

No matter how hard I tried, I knew I wouldn't sleep tonight.

Because for the first time, the thought of her didn't just stir me - it settled somewhere deeper. Somewhere permanent.

And that, I realized, scared me more than anything else ever had.

***CONRY***

The morning light crept through the cracks of the curtains, soft and golden, painting faint stripes across the stone floor. I lay awake long before dawn, staring at the ceiling, the memories of last night still vivid in my mind.

Her kiss.

It hadn't been long - a brief brush of warmth - but it had haunted me the entire night. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it again. The gentleness of it. The hesitation. The way she said 'good night, Alpha' as though the words carried something more than politeness.

I didn't sleep much, but I didn't feel tired either. Something in me had shifted. The weight I'd carried for years - the duty, the loneliness that came with leadership - felt a little lighter. For once, I woke not thinking of borders or treaties or the next battle. I woke thinking of *her*.

I sat up slowly, running a hand through my hair. The scent of pine oil from the night before still clung faintly to my skin. The room was quiet except for the sound of the morning birds beyond the window. I rose, walked toward the balcony, and let the fresh air fill my lungs. Below, the courtyard was alive - warriors training, servants bustling, the blacksmith already at his forge.

Furcroft thrived again. It was alive, strong. But even as I watched it, my mind wandered back to her - Vera Thorn.

I had seen beauty before, but not like hers. Hers wasn't the kind that demanded attention. It was quieter - the kind that drew you in and refused to let go. I had kissed her out of impulse, but what I felt now was far from impulsive. It was something deeper. Something that didn't waver with the morning light.

I smiled to myself, a rare, unguarded smile. "It's time," I murmured.

I wasn't a man of grand gestures, but if she was to be mine - truly mine - she deserved more than quiet promises in the dark.

I dressed in a fresh tunic, dark and simple, then made my way down the halls. Every step echoed with a strange calmness, the kind that comes before certainty. Servants greeted me as I passed, bowing their heads. Some smiled when they saw me - a rare sight since the war.

As I approached the west wing, where Vera's chamber was, my heart began to drum again. I paused before her door, breathing in deeply before knocking.

"Come in," came her soft voice.

When I stepped inside, she stood near the window, bathed in sunlight. Her hair glowed like burnished copper, and her skin shimmered against the pale morning light. She turned to me, and for a moment, I forgot why I'd come.

"Alpha," she greeted with a small bow of her head.

"Vera," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "You look... well rested."

She smiled faintly, tilting her head. "I'm surprised you noticed, Alpha. You don't strike me as a man who looks twice."

I chuckled quietly. "You'd be surprised what I notice."

Silence followed - not awkward, but thick with unspoken things. I stepped closer, holding her gaze.

"Last night," I began, "I meant every word I said."

Her breath caught faintly. "About what?"

"That I want you as my mate," I said simply.

Her eyes widened slightly, the morning light catching them in shades of amber and gold. "You're serious?" she asked.

"Completely."

She turned away, pacing slowly toward the window, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "You can't just decide that overnight," she said. "You barely know me."

"I know enough," I answered. "I know strength when I see it. I know loyalty, even when it hides behind fear. And I know what my heart felt when I looked at you."

She sighed, resting her palms against the window frame. "You don't even know what I've done... or where I've been."

"I don't need to," I said quietly. "Whatever shadows you carry, you brought them here - and still, you stand. That's enough for me."

Her silence stretched. I could tell she was battling something inside - pride, pain, fear, maybe all of it at once. Her shoulders trembled slightly. Then, almost as if surrendering to her own thoughts, she turned to face me again.

"You're making it sound too easy," she said with a half-laugh, though her voice trembled. "You think because you're Alpha, you can just... declare this, and it becomes truth?"

I took a slow step toward her. "No," I said softly. "I think because I'm a man who's tired of pretending not to feel, I can finally be honest."

Her eyes shimmered. "And if I say no?"

"Then I'll walk away," I said. "But I'll still mean every word I've said."

For a moment, her composure cracked. She let out a frustrated laugh, half-angry, half-nervous. "You make it very hard to refuse you, Alpha."

"Then don't," I said, smiling gently.

She folded her arms, looking away, clearly trying to keep her resolve. "You're too sure of yourself," she murmured.

"Only when I know what I want."

Her lips twitched, almost betraying a smile, but she tried to hide it. "I should make you wait a little longer," she said, pretending to pout. "Just to make sure you're serious."

"I've been waiting longer than you think," I replied.

That made her finally laugh - soft and pure, like a sound I hadn't realized I needed. Her hand moved to her chest, as if to steady her heart.

"You're impossible," she whispered.

I stepped closer again, so close that the scent of her skin filled the space between us. "Then say yes, and stop fighting what you already feel."

She hesitated - long enough for me to feel the tension in the air twist tighter. Then, slowly, she exhaled and whispered, "Fine."

The word came out reluctant but real.

"Fine," I repeated, smiling. "That's how you accept a proposal?"

She rolled her eyes and shoved my shoulder lightly, though her cheeks were flushed. "What did you expect? Trumpets and poetry?"

"I expected you," I said simply.

That silenced her. She looked away quickly, as though afraid to meet my eyes again.

I reached for her hand - she didn't pull back. I lifted it, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and whispered, "Then it's settled."

For a moment, neither of us moved. The air felt charged again - the same quiet electricity as last night.

Then I smiled and said, "Come with me."

Her brows furrowed. "Where?"

"To the courtyard," I said.

She blinked. "Now?"

"Yes, now."

She tried to protest, but I was already leading her out, her hand still in mine. The warmth of her skin against my palm steadied me more than I'd admit.

As we stepped into the sunlight, the courtyard quieted. Warriors paused mid-spar. Servants froze where they stood. Every eye turned toward us - their Alpha, holding hands with the woman most still knew as the *bought girl*.

I could feel Vera tense beside me. "Conry," she whispered sharply, tugging at my hand. "What are you doing?"

I didn't answer her - not yet. I stepped onto the raised stone platform at the center of the yard and turned to face my people.

"My pack," I began, voice loud enough to echo across the courtyard, "has stood through war and peace alike. We've seen loss. We've seen change. But today, I bring before you something new - a promise."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"This woman," I said, turning slightly toward Vera, "stood when others would kneel. She faced her pain, her rejection, and still she did not break. That kind of strength... belongs beside an Alpha."

Vera's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly in disbelief.

"I, Alpha Conry of Furcroft," I declared, "choose Vera Thorn as my Luna."

The courtyard fell utterly silent - then erupted in gasps and whispers. Some bowed. Others looked stunned. A few even smiled.

Vera stood frozen beside me, her hand trembling in mine. "You could've warned me," she whispered under her breath.

I leaned closer, a smile playing at the corner of my mouth. "You said yes, remember?"

She turned to glare at me, but her eyes glistened, betraying her. "You're infuriating," she muttered, though her lips curved into the smallest, most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.

And as the pack cheered, her hand tightened in mine - not in protest, but in quiet acceptance.

For the first time in a long time, Furcroft didn't just have an Alpha.

It had a Luna.