A Warrior’s Second Chance novel Chapter 305

FAYE

There was a knock on the door. I was already awake, though I hadn’t left the bed yet. Sleep had come lightly, broken by thoughts I refused to chase.

Alexander had not returned until late. I had heard him move quietly through the room, careful not to wake me.
So I was surprised to see that he was already out of bed, and I was alone in the room.

The knock came again. “Luna, it’s me, Martha.”

“Martha?” I called.

“Yes, Luna,”

Her voice carried through the door–strained.

I sat up slowly, adjusting the robe around my shoulders. “Come in.”

The door opened carefully, as though she feared it might creak too loudly. Martha stepped inside holding a tray. Steam curled gently from a cup resting at its center.

I noticed it immediately.

The scent reached me before the sight did.

Dr. Adams‘ blend.

The same tea prescribed when I had the accident–to help my womb heal. The same tea I had told Martha to stop preparing.

“I thought I asked you to discontinue that,” I said quietly.

Martha froze mid–step.

Her fingers tightened around the tray.

“I–I know, Luna.”

She avoided my eyes.

That was strange.

Martha never avoided eye contact with me unless she was concealing something.

I rose from the bed and crossed the room slowly, watching her more closely than the tea.

“You don’t disobey instructions lightly,” I said, keeping my voice calm.

She swallowed.

“No, Luna.”

“Then why bring it now?”

Her breathing was shallow. I could see it in the way her shoulders lifted too high with each inhale.

She set the tray down on the small table near the window with deliberate care, as though stalling.

“I thought… perhaps you might need it.”

I studied her face.

Her hands trembled slightly as she stepped back.

Something was wrong.

Not in the house–not physically. I would have felt alarm if it were immediate danger.

But something had unsettled her. It was obvious she had brought the tea because she needed a reason to come into my room this early.

I stepped closer.

“What happened?”

She flinched at the directness.

“Nothing, Luna.”

I tilted my head slightly.

“Martha.”

The way I said her name was enough.

She looked at me then, properly, and I saw it–the conflict. The fear.

“Did someone say something to you?” I asked.

“No.”

“Did someone threaten you?”

Her eyes widened. “No, Luna. Never.”

Then what?

Silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable.

I let it linger.

Pressure did not always require volume.

Sometimes stillness was enough.

“You brought me the tea I specifically told you not to prepare,” I said evenly. “You’re avoiding my eyes. Your pulse is racing–I can hear your heartbeat.”

She stiffened.

“Do not lie to me,” I said calmly.

Her composure cracked.

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” she blurted suddenly.

There it was.

I did not react outwardly.

“I was bringing coffee to Alpha Alexander,” she rushed on. “The door was slightly open, and I heard- I only heard part of it, Luna. I didn’t mean to-”

“What did you hear?” I asked.

She hesitated.

Fear flickered across her face.

“If the Alpha finds out I listened-”

“I asked,” I repeated, more firmly now.

Her breath hitched.

“They were talking about Roman.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“He would kill me.”

The words hung in the air.

I knew she did not mean it literally in the most direct sense. Alexander was not a tyrant who executed staff for missteps.

But punishment within a pack could take many forms.

For someone like Martha, whose entire life revolved around service within these walls, that would feel like death.

“I’m begging you, Luna,” she whispered. “Please don’t tell him I told you. If he knows I was listening outside the door… if he believes I interfered…”

She bowed her head fully.

“Please.”

I stood there for a long moment, studying her kneeling form.

This was precisely the complication I had hoped to avoid.

If I confronted Alexander directly about the wolfsbane, he would ask how I knew.

He was not careless.

He would trace the thread backward.

He would consider timing.

And if he suspected Martha-

He would not be pleased. Not because of betrayal.

But because of disorder.

Because someone in his house had listened outside a closed door.

I weighed my options quickly.

Confront him immediately and risk exposing her.

Say nothing and allow him to proceed unchecked.

“Martha.”

She flinched at the firmness in my tone.

“Look at me.”

She raised her head slowly, tears balanced precariously in her eyes.

“You did not do wrong by telling me,” I said quietly.

Relief washed over her features so visibly that it almost softened my resolve.

“Get up.”

She hesitated only a second before placing her hand in mine and rising to her feet.

Her knees must have hurt, but she did not show it.

“Go to your duties,” I told her gently.