The compound feels different without Paul in it.
Quieter, somehow. Emptier. Like the walls themselves are holding their breath until he returns from negotiating territory boundaries with the northern pack.
Sarah wastes no time filling the vacuum he left behind.
"You'll deep-clean the Alpha suite today," she announces at breakfast, her smile sharp enough to draw blood. "Every surface, every corner, every inch of the bedroom."
The bedroom. Where she sleeps beside him every night while I wait in shadows.
"Of course, Luna." The words taste like ash on my tongue.
"Pay special attention to the bathroom," Sarah adds, watching my face for cracks. "I want it spotless when my husband returns."
Zane catches my eye across the table, concern flickering in his gaze. He's been managing the compound in Paul's absence, but even he can't override Sarah's household authority.
She knows exactly what she's doing, I think, gathering my cleaning supplies an hour later. This is torture dressed up as duty.
The Alpha suite sprawls across the top floor of the packhouse. I start in the sitting room, working methodically through dust and disorder, trying not to think about what waits beyond the bedroom door.
When I finally push it open, my stomach lurches violently.
The bed dominates the space, massive and perfectly made, silk sheets gleaming in the morning light. I force myself forward on trembling legs.
Don't think about what might have happened here. Don't imagine his hands on her skin.
I strip the bedding with mechanical precision, stuffing the fabric into my laundry bag without inhaling. Fresh sheets go on next, crisp and white and mercifully anonymous.
The shelves need dusting. The surfaces need organizing. I lose myself in the rhythm of it.
Sarah's desk sits in the corner, cluttered with papers and cosmetics. My elbow catches a leather folder as I reach for the lamp.
Documents scatter across the hardwood like fallen leaves.
"No, no, no," I whisper, dropping to my knees.
If she finds evidence of my clumsiness, she'll use it against me.
My hands work frantically, gathering papers, straightening edges. Then my fingers brush something glossy.
A Polaroid photograph.
Sarah laughs in the image, radiant and carefree. Her arms wrap around a dark-haired man at what looks like a carnival kissing booth.
The man is not Paul.
I recognize him from the wedding ceremony. Thomas, one of the Silver Moon warriors who came with my father's delegation. His mouth presses against Sarah's with unmistakable intimacy.
My eyes drop to the date scrawled in the photo's white border.
Two weeks after the wedding.
She's been betraying Paul from the beginning.
The discovery rewrites everything I thought I understood about this arrangement. Sarah parades around like the perfect Luna, threatening my life over imagined affairs.
And all along, she's been the one breaking vows.
My hands tremble as I pull out the small phone Elena gave me for emergencies. The camera app opens silently.
I photograph the Polaroid from multiple angles, ensuring every detail is captured. The date, the faces, the carnival booth behind them.
Evidence. Insurance. A weapon I never expected to find.
I slide the original back into the folder exactly where it fell, tucking the folder beneath the desk lamp as if nothing happened.
Sarah isn't untouchable, I realize, standing slowly. Sarah has secrets too.
The spark of power that ignites in my chest feels foreign after eleven years of helplessness. I straighten my spine, feeling taller somehow, less afraid.
The attached bathroom gleams with excessive luxury. My eyes are drawn to the massive jacuzzi dominating one wall.
Hot water. Jets that could massage the knots from my screaming muscles.
Reckless, my survival instinct whispers. Dangerous.
But Sarah is visiting town with her friends. She won't return for hours.
And suddenly, I don't feel like a cowering servant anymore.
I undress quickly, catching my reflection in the floor-length mirror. The woman staring back at me has generous curves and soft flesh.
What on earth does Paul see in this body?
The question has no answer, but I sink into the hot water anyway.
A groan escapes my throat as the heat envelops my exhausted muscles. The jets pulse against my lower back, releasing tension I've carried for days.
Dangerous, I think again, closing my eyes. Defiant.
For the first time in memory, I feel like someone worth wanting.
The bedroom door opens.
"Well." Paul's voice, low and dark with hunger that makes my core clench. "This is unexpected."
My eyes fly open.
He stands in the bathroom doorway, still disheveled from travel, having returned a day early. His pale gaze traces every curve the water fails to hide.
My full breasts. The soft swell of my stomach. The generous hips he's gripped while buried inside me.
"You came back early," I gasp, scrambling to cover myself with my arms.
"Don't." The command freezes me mid-motion.
He steps closer, and I watch his throat work as he swallows.
"I've been thinking about you for days, little wolf." His voice roughens on my name. "Every mile of that road, every negotiation, every sleepless night."
"The trip was supposed to last a week," I manage, my voice barely steady.
"I left my second in command to handle the final details." He reaches for the buttons of his shirt. "I needed to come home."
"And now you're naked in my bathtub." His voice drops to a growl that makes heat pool between my thighs. "Looking like every fantasy I've ever had."
"Paul, Sarah could come back any moment," I protest weakly.
"Sarah is in town for another three hours." He moves toward me with predatory intent. "I checked before I came upstairs."
"You planned this?"
"I planned to find you, little wolf." His smile turns dark with promise. "Finding you like this is simply fate being generous."
His shirt hits the floor. His boots follow, then his pants. When he stands bare before me, already hard, already ready, my breath catches in my throat.
But this time, fear isn't what makes my pulse race.
The photograph burns in my memory. Proof that Sarah's perfect marriage is a lie, that I'm not the only one breaking rules.
The knowledge makes me bold in a way I've never been.
Paul steps into the water, the level rising around his powerful thighs. He reaches for me with possessive hands, hunger burning in his ice-blue eyes.
I surprise us both by moving first.
My body rises from the water, and I climb onto his lap before he can pull me. My thighs bracket his hips, my curves pressing against his hard chest.
His eyes flash silver, shock and hunger warring in their depths.
"Someone's feeling brave," he growls, hands gripping my hips with bruising intensity. "What happened while I was gone?"
"Maybe I realized I'm tired of being afraid," I whisper, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
"Afraid of what, little wolf?"
"Of wanting things I'm not supposed to have." My lips brush against his ear. "Of taking instead of waiting to be taken."
His groan vibrates through my chest as I position myself over him.
"You have no idea what you're starting," he warns, jaw clenched with restraint.
"Then show me how it ends."
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