I spun around, my heart hammering in my chest. His face was unreadable, but his eyes burned with quiet fury.
“Who... who is she?”
Ronan stepped into the room, his presence suffocating. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Why is she—”
“She’s my mate,” he snapped, his tone final. “My Luna.”
Something about the way he said it sent a chill down my spine.
“She’s... she’s not alive,” I whispered, glancing back at the unmoving woman. “What are you doing to her?”
Ronan’s jaw clenched. “She’s sick. And you’re going to help me bring her back.”
“What?” I took a step back.
He grabbed my arm, pulling me close. His voice dropped to a cold whisper.
“You’re not here to be part of this pack, Elena. You’re here because humans are useful in rituals. And in two weeks, I’m going to kill you to save her, whether you like it or not.”
His words hit me like a slap in the face.
“Two weeks,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “You’re going to kill me... in two weeks?”
Ronan smirked, leaning back against the doorframe as if we were discussing the weather. “On the blood moon. It’s the perfect time for rituals. And with the witch’s help, your sacrifice will ensure Luna’s return.”
Sacrifice. The word twisted in my chest like a knife.
“You… you can’t be serious,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Oh, I’m fucking dead serious,” he replied, his tone almost bored. “But until then, you’ll stay here. Do what I tell you. And you’ll start by looking after her.”
He jerked his head toward the woman on the bed—his Luna. Her pale face was peaceful, almost serene, but the energy in the room felt... wrong.
“You want me to take care of her?”
“You’ll do more than that,” Ronan said, his voice hardening. “You’ll bathe her, feed her, keep her clean. If I so much as smell neglect on her, I’ll make sure your death is slow.”
I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. “What if I... what if I hurt her by accident?”
Ronan’s expression darkened. He stepped closer, towering over me.
“If you try anything— anything—to harm her, I’ll fucking throw you to the rogues. Let them tear you apart piece by piece and feast on your remains. Understand?”
A shiver ran down my spine. His tone wasn’t a threat; it was a promise.
I nodded quickly, not trusting my voice to work.
“Good.” He grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the room. “You start now.”
***
The first thing I learned about taking care of Alpha Ronan’s Luna was that it wasn’t about her. It was about him.
He wanted her pristine, perfect, untouched. Every detail had to be just right—the water temperature for her baths, the way her hair was brushed, even the position of her hands on the bed. It was obsessive, and the weight of it pressed down on me with every passing second.
I carried a basin of warm water into the room, my arms shaking under its weight. The Luna lay exactly as I’d left her, unmoving, her chest rising and falling so faintly I had to lean closer to be sure she was still breathing.
I set the basin down and hesitated.
This was insane. I was supposed to be in school, worrying about exams, hanging out with friends, maybe daydreaming about my future. Not... this. Not bathing a woman who was basically a corpse while her psychotic mate planned to kill me.
My hands shook as I dipped a cloth into the water and wrung it out.
“Just get it over with,” I muttered to myself.
The cloth brushed against her skin, and I froze. Her body was cold—colder than it should’ve been—but there was a faint warmth beneath the surface, like embers buried under ash.
I worked quickly, trying not to think too much. Every movement felt surreal, like I was watching myself from outside my body.
When I finished, I stepped back, wiping my hands on my pants.
“Good enough,” Ronan’s voice said from the doorway, making me jump.
I turned to see him leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.
“She looks... decent,” he said, his eyes scanning the Luna’s form. “For now.”
I bit back the urge to snap at him. What was I supposed to do? Give her a makeover?
“Get out,” he said abruptly. “You’ve got other work to do.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
***
The days blurred together. Ronan didn’t just assign me to the Luna; he made sure I was his personal slave too. Cleaning, cooking, running errands—every task was designed to remind me of how little I mattered.
But the worst part wasn’t the work. It was the looming shadow of the blood moon, ticking closer with every passing day.
I tried to push the thought away, but at night, alone in my cramped little room, it was all I could think about. How would it happen? Would the witch drag me to some altar and carve me open? Would Ronan watch? Would anyone care?
