Mary Ann’s POV
“Do not think defending your title means I was defending you.”
Modric’s words followed me into the corridor, cold and deliberate.
I stopped walking.
For one brief second, I considered continuing without answering. That would have been the wiser choice. The council meeting had ended in my favor. My proposal had been approved, and Elder Gregor had been forced to swallow his disrespect in front of everyone.
I should have taken the victory and left.
Instead, I slowly turned around.
Modric still stood near the council chamber doors, his broad shoulders filling the entrance. His gray eyes remained fixed on me, as though he expected gratitude. Perhaps he believed one sharp command in my defense should make me forget every insult, every night of avoidance and every cruel reminder that our marriage meant nothing to him.
“I never asked you to defend me,” I said.
His jaw tightened.
“You looked as though you needed it.”
“I was handling Gregor perfectly well.”
“He called you an outsider in front of the council.”
“And I would have answered him.”
Modric stepped into the hallway, letting the doors close behind him. “You are new to this pack. You do not understand how quickly elders like Gregor can turn a disagreement into a political challenge.”
“And you do not understand that I have spent most of my life being challenged simply for entering a room.”
His expression shifted, but I continued before he could interrupt.
“You did what was required of you as Alpha. Gregor disrespected the Luna, and you corrected him because allowing it would weaken your authority. That is your duty. I do not owe you gratitude for performing it.”
A muscle moved in his cheek.
“You could simply say thank you.”
“For what? Making it clear afterward that you were protecting a title rather than the woman carrying it?”
His gaze hardened.
“You always have an answer.”
“I learned early that silence only encouraged people like you.”
The words landed exactly where I intended.
For half a heartbeat, pain flashed in his eyes. Then his familiar arrogance returned.
“Careful, Mary Ann.”
“Or what? You will insult my body again? Kiss me as punishment? Or disappear for another night?”
The air between us changed instantly.
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
Heat stirred low in my belly before I crushed it beneath anger.
Modric took one step closer. “You are the one who keeps bringing up that kiss.”
“I am reminding you why your sudden concern does not impress me.”
His hands curled at his sides. “There was no concern.”
“Then we agree.”
I turned away from him.
“Mary Ann.”
I did not stop this time.
Behind me, I heard a low curse, followed by the sound of his boots moving in the opposite
direction.
Good.
Let him be annoyed.
I had work to do.
The Hollowbrook project became the center of my days.
By the following morning, my new Luna office was buried beneath maps, inventory sheets and planting schedules. Greta had arranged a larger desk near the windows, where sunlight spilled across the dark wooden surface. The room smelled of paper, ink and the cinnamon drink she
insisted I consume before I forgot breakfast again.
Kylian arrived shortly after nine carrying three thick folders.
“The warehouse reports,” he announced: “The timber is still usable, but some of the beams need repairs.”
I accepted the first folder. “How many?”
“Forty–seven.”
“That is manageable.”
“You say that now.”
He dropped the remaining folders onto my desk with a heavy thud.
I stared at the stack.
“What are those?”
“Transportation costs, available workers and a list of every person in Hollowbrook who has complained about the council in the last two years.”
I blinked. “Why do I need the last one?”
“You do not. I thought you might enjoy knowing you are walking into a settlement filled with stubborn people.”
You are from Tronclaw. I assumed stubbornness was a requirement.”
Kylian laughed.
The sound drew the attention of two servants passing outside the open door. They glanced inside before quickly continuing down the hallway.
I ignored them.
Kylian’s apology at the wedding had not erased our history, but working with him was easier than I expected. He did not treat me as though I were fragile, and unlike Modric, he listened when I spoke.
We spent the next several hours reviewing supplies.
Mooncrest’s frostroot seeds would be the most difficult part. Ironclaw could purchase them from independent traders, but using Mooncrest’s agricultural network would reduce both cost and delivery time.
I hesitated before reaching for the communication stone on my desk.
Calling home should not have felt dangerous.
Yet I knew my father would hear the smallest change in my voice. My mother would notice what I avoided saying. They would ask about Modric, about our rooms and whether I was happy.
I was not prepared to tell them the truth.
I contacted Mooncrest’s agricultural office first.
Farmer Elias appeared through the stone’s shimmering surface, his weathered face breaking into a smile when he recognized me.
“Mary Ann! Or should I say Luna Volkov now?”
“Mary Ann is fine.”
His smile softened.
“What can we do for Ironclaw?”
I explained Hollowbrook’s food shortage and the protected–field plan. Elias asked careful questions about the soil, expected frost and available labor. Unlike Gregor, he did not dismiss the idea simply because the land belonged to another pack.
“We can provide enough seed for the first ten fields,” he said. “Maybe twelve if your father approves the emergency reserve.”
“I do not want charity.”
“It would not be charity.”
“Ironclaw will pay market price.”
Elias raised both hands. “Very well. Market price.”
I gave him a grateful smile. “How soon can the first shipment leave?”
“Three days.”
“Make it two.”
He laughed. “You sound like your father.”
“I will pretend that was a compliment.”
“It was.”
By midday, the agreement was complete. Mooncrest would send frostroot, winter potatoes and hardy turnip seeds. Ironclaw would provide timber, labor and transportation. If the first planting succeeded, Hollowbrook would produce enough food to survive the winter without purchasing Frostfang’s overpriced grain.
The project was beginning to feel real.
Kylian left to organize the transport teams, while I drafted official requests for storage cloth and tools.
I was halfway through the third letter when the communication stone glowed again.
My father’s name appeared.
I stared at it for a moment before answering.
Alpha Sterling’s face formed above the stone.
“There is my daughter.”
Despite everything, warmth filled my chest. “Hello, Dad.”
His expression softened as he studied me.
“You look tired.”
“I have been working.”
“So I heard. Elias contacted me about the seed shipment. Hollowbrook?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother said you would find a project before you finished unpacking.”
A smile touched my lips. “You both know me too well.”
“I am proud of you.”
The words caught me off guard.
I lowered my gaze to the papers on the desk. “It is only a planting project.”
“It is food for hundreds of people. Do not reduce your work simply because others might.”
My throat tightened.
That was what Modric did. He looked at every achievement as though it were an attempt to embarrass him.
Dad leaned closer to the stone.
“How is married life?”
“Mary Ann,” she said gently, “you can tell us if something is wrong.”
If I told my father that Modric avoided me, he might demand answers. If I admitted how Modric spoke to me, my mother would blame herself for allowing the marriage. They had already sacrificed enough to secure peace. would not let my unhappiness drag both packs back toward war.
“Elias says the seeds can leave in two days. Can you ask the western farmers whether they still use the old greenhouse plans? I need measurements for the wooden frames.”
“I know.”
I sat still for several minutes, staring at my reflection in the dark surface of the communication stone.
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