The Wolfless Contract Luna (Grace and Ethan) novel Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Night Window Escape**

**Grace’s Perspective**

Outside, the night is cloaked in shadows, but Lori has no trouble navigating the darkness. With a practiced ease, he pries the window open, slipping inside like a whisper, his movements fluid and silent.

“Luna Grace.” His gaze locks onto mine, and in that moment, a subtle shift occurs in his expression—relief intertwines with a fierce determination that sends a shiver down my spine.

“You heard me.” My voice emerges, rough and strained, as if it had to claw its way out of my throat.

“Always. Your father made me swear an oath before he passed. To watch over you from the shadows, to protect you when the time came.” His words hang heavy in the air, a promise forged in the fires of loyalty.

“My father knew?” The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, and my throat tightens around the words. “He knew I’d need—”

“He suspected Damien wasn’t what he appeared to be.” Lori’s jaw clenches, the muscles taut with unspoken anger. “He made me promise to remain in the background unless your life was in jeopardy. I’ve been watching, waiting, loathing every moment I couldn’t—”

“Get me out.” I grab his arm, urgency fueling my voice. “The pack assembly. I need to go. Now.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he nods. “The guard outside your door?”

“Just one.”

“Good.” Lori glides toward the door, pressing his ear against it, listening intently. “I’ll create a distraction. When I give the signal, you run for the servant’s stairs at the end of the hall. I’ll meet you at the western exit.”

“What kind of distraction?” I ask, curiosity piqued.

His smile is sharp, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “The kind that involves me ‘accidentally’ stumbling upon a rogue breach at the eastern border. They’ll mobilize everyone.” He pulls a small vial from his pocket, the liquid inside shimmering ominously. “Rogue scent. Bottled. Cost me a favor I’d rather keep under wraps.”

I take the vial, our fingers brushing together, a fleeting connection that sends a spark through me. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. Getting out is the easy part,” he warns, glancing toward the window. “Getting you to that assembly with Damien’s warriors hunting us? That’s going to be a different story.”

“I don’t care about messy.” I meet his gaze, resolve hardening within me. “I care about making him watch while I reclaim my life.”

A grin spreads across his face, a flicker of pride in his eyes. “Spoken like an Alpha’s daughter. Now, get dressed. You’re going to need armor.”

With that, Lori slips back through the window, leaving me alone in the dim room. I rush to my closet, my heart racing as I tear through the garments. Most of my gowns are modest, designed by Damien and his mother to mold me into the perfect submissive Luna. I shove them aside, desperation guiding my hands as I search for the few pieces I brought from Aurorawisp—the ones that still bear my father’s pack colors.

My fingers finally close around silver silk.

The dress slips from the hanger like liquid moonlight, the neckline daringly low, the back nearly nonexistent. I wore it once, five years ago, before everything unraveled, before I learned to shrink into myself.

*Not anymore.*

I hastily strip off the remnants of my ruined outfit, stepping into the gown. The fabric clings to my curves perfectly, and when I catch my reflection in the cracked mirror, I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. She isn’t the defeated Luna who has been hiding in this room; she looks fierce, ready to reclaim her power.

I sit at my vanity, miraculously still intact, and begin to prepare myself. Dark eyeliner sharpens my green eyes, making them glimmer with defiance. A deep red lipstick, reminiscent of blood or wine, adorns my lips. I braid my blonde hair into an intricate crown, weaving in the few pieces of silver jewelry I have left from my mother, a reminder of my heritage.

The mate bond thrums in the background, a constant reminder of Damien, who must be with Lilith, likely preparing for the assembly. Let him feel my determination through the connection. Let it choke him.

A howl pierces the night air—Lori’s signal.

Shouts erupt in the hallway, and the guard stationed outside my door curses loudly. “Rogues! Eastern border!” His footsteps race away, urgency in his stride.

I don’t waste a moment. Grabbing the rogue scent vial, I pour half of it beneath the door, then dart out of my room.

The servant’s stairs are dark and empty. I take them two at a time, the dress hiked up around my thighs, my heart pounding like a war drum. Behind me, the chaos escalates—more shouts, the shrill sound of an alarm bell ringing through Darkrock Manor, chaos spreading like wildfire.

Lori waits at the western exit, already shifted. His wolf form is magnificent—silver-grey and battle-scarred, a testament to countless fights. He crouches low, and I scramble onto his back, fingers tangling in his thick fur.

“Go!” I urge, my voice a fierce whisper.

He explodes forward.

The forest rushes past us in a blur of shadows and moonlight. Lori’s powerful muscles ripple beneath me as he weaves between trees, leaps over fallen logs, and crashes through underbrush. The mate bond stretches painfully as we distance ourselves from Damien.

Good. Let it hurt him too.

Behind us, the howls of wolves echo through the night—pursuit.

“They know!” I shout over the wind, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Lori doesn’t slow down. He pushes himself harder, his breathing ragged but steady. We burst onto a road, headlights sweeping toward us, and he veers away, plunging back into the forest on the other side.

“Is there a problem?” A voice cuts through the tension, deep and authoritative, laced with boredom.

Everyone turns.

A man stands in the doorway, silhouetted against the golden light of the hall behind him. He’s tall, powerfully built, his dark suit tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and lean waist. As he steps forward, the light catches sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, eyes scanning the scene with predatory intelligence.

His hair is dark, styled with a casual flair, and there’s something about the way he moves—fluid, controlled, absolutely confident—that screams Alpha. Power radiates from him like heat.

He was leaving, about to walk out, about to disappear.

Behind me, the howls grow closer, Damien’s warriors crashing through the forest.

I have maybe a minute before they reach the entrance. Before they drag me back. Before this night devolves into another humiliation, another failure.

*No.*

I step forward, my heart racing, and hook my arm through his.

The man goes completely still.

His scent envelops me—pine and smoke and something wild that sends my pulse racing. But beneath that, something shifts. His aura flares, rippling with sudden intensity. Not anger, but something more primal. His breathing changes, the muscles in his arm going rigid under my touch.

*Oh god, he’s pissed.*

“I’m so sorry I’m late, darling.” I force myself to smile up at him, to play the role. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel it—the full weight of his attention, his wolf surging beneath the surface. The air between us crackles with tension.

I start to pull away. “I didn’t mean to—”

His hand clamps over mine where it rests on his arm.

Then he’s moving, turning, pulling me with him through those massive doors. The doorman sputters something, but we’re already past him, already swallowed by the golden light, the music, and the crowd of the assembly hall.

The doors swing shut behind us with a final, echoing boom.