The Luna Arrangement

4.

June

I wake at 7:12 a.m. like my body has been trained for disaster.

The room is too quiet. The bed is too soft. For half a second, I forget where I am — and then the memory of arriving at Ashwood Falls settles into place, heavy and real.

Ronan Ashwood. Eight a.m. A contract.

Mira is already awake, alert and watchful.

Still breathing, she notes. Promising start.

I shower quickly, scrubbing until the steam fogs the mirrors and my skin prickles. The bond is still there — not pulling, not hurting — just existing. Like something unfinished.

I dress simply but work appropriate, just in case he wants me to start immediately. Black pants. A sweater. Boots. Dressy casual, yet comfy enough to deal with wild pups.

A knock sounds at 7:59.

Not tentative. Not polite. An Alpha knock.

Ronan stands in the doorway when I open it. Dark hair damp, jaw shadowed with scruff, dressed like he’s already conquered the day. His gaze flicks over me once, assessing, then lifts to meet mine.

“Come,” he says. I follow him without argument.

His office is exactly what I expected — dark wood, clean lines, a wall of windows overlooking endless forest. Power without decoration.

Ronan doesn’t sit. He places a folder on the desk and slides it toward me.

“Read,” he says.

I open it. The title stops me cold.

Luna Agreement

Ashwood Falls Pack

Role: Luna of Ashwood Falls

Status: Permanent

Public Expectations: Shared residence, joint appearances, visible unity

Private Terms: No claiming. No consummation. No bond interference without consent

Conduct Clause: Mutual respect. Absolute discretion. Public affection as required

I shove the folder back across the desk. “Ummm—what the f**k is this?”

Ronan’s gaze stays steady. “Exactly what it says.”

“You brought me here,” I say slowly, incredulously, “to ask me to pretend to be your Luna?”

“I brought you here,” he corrects, “because I need one.”

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You want a permanent Luna arrangement.”

“I want stability,” he says. “And the appearance of it.”

“And you think I can just step into that?” I ask. “I’m not Luna material.”

Ronan studies me for a moment. Not my clothes. Not my posture. Me.

“You thought you were,” he says.

My breath catches. “Excuse me?”

“With Sutton,” Ronan continues calmly. “You believed that was where you were headed.”

I let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Wow. News travels fast.”

“I make it my business to know what matters,” he replies. “Especially when it involves another Alpha violating boundaries.”

My spine straightens. “The pack didn’t know.”

“I know,” Ronan says. “That’s not how I learned.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “Then what exactly do you think happened?”

“I think,” he says evenly, “that he discovered his mate, decided you didn’t fit the image he wanted, and chose someone else while keeping you close enough to use.”

My stomach twists.

“He told you that?” I demand.

“No,” Ronan says. “He didn’t have to.”

I clench my hands in my lap. “I rejected him. I spoke the words. He refused them, but I did my part.” Something sharp flickers across Ronan’s expression — approval, edged with something darker.

“Good,” he says. “Then you won’t confuse obligation with affection.”

“I won’t be owned,” I say.

“You won’t be,” Ronan replies immediately. “You’ll be respected.”

“That’s not love.”

“No,” he agrees. “But we’ll look like we have it.”

My stomach flips.

“For the pack,” he continues. “For the elders. For every alliance that needs reassurance I’m settled and untouchable.”

“So we smile,” I say flatly. “We stand close. We sell the story.”

“Yes.”

“And if I say no?”

“You leave,” Ronan says without hesitation. Not a threat. A fact. The certainty of it tightens something in my chest.

Mira shifts, thoughtful.

I don’t hate this, she admits. At least he’s honest about the lie.

I exhale slowly. “If I do this, I won’t be a placeholder.”

Ronan leans forward, bracing his hands on the desk. His voice lowers.

“You won’t be,” he says. “You’ll be the woman at my side. Fully. Publicly. No half-measures.”

Heat stirs low and unwelcome.

“And Grant?” I ask. “Because he made it very clear he expected me to stay… available.”

Ronan’s jaw tightens, just slightly.

“That won’t happen,” he says. “Not on my land. Not under my protection. He doesn’t get to keep you in reach while presenting someone else to the world.”

My chest tightens. “You’d stop him?”

“I will,” Ronan says. No hesitation. No qualifiers. “Completely.”

Silence stretches between us.

Then Ronan straightens. “The elder council arrives at six.”

My head snaps up. “Tonight?”

“Yes.” His gaze flicks down, brief and assessing. “One more thing. You’re done dressing like you’re going to teach pups.”

Heat rises to my cheeks.

“I’ll have something sent up,” he adds evenly. “Appropriate for the role.”

“I didn’t agree yet,” I say.

Ronan slides a pen across the desk. “You will.”

The certainty in his voice should irritate me. Instead, it steadies something in my chest. Mira purrs softly.

I close my eyes for one heartbeat.

Grant’s indifference.

The bond left unfinished.

The way Ronan stands here, offering structure instead of excuses.

I open my eyes and pick up the pen.

“If I do this,” I say quietly, “I do it with dignity.”

Ronan’s gaze sharpens. “You’ll have it.”

“And we don’t play pretend badly,” I add. “We do it convincingly.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. Barely.

“Good,” he says. “Because Ashwood Falls doesn’t tolerate weakness.”

I sign.

The pen feels heavier than it should in my hand, the ink dark against the page like something permanent settling into place before I’m ready to examine it too closely.

Ronan takes the folder, closes it, and tucks it away without ceremony. No smile. No triumph. Just acceptance.

“Six o’clock,” he says. “Be ready.”

Then he turns and leaves, the door closing softly behind him.

I stand there for a long moment, staring at the place where he was, my pulse still racing. Mira shifts beneath my skin, alert and curious, but even she doesn’t sound entirely sure of herself.

Well, she says finally, this is… new.

I let out a slow breath and sink into the chair. I feel like I’ve stepped onto something narrow and unfamiliar, with no clear view of what’s waiting on the other side.

And at six o’clock tonight, I’ll have to walk into a room full of elders and prove — to them, to this pack, and maybe to myself — that I belong at Alpha Ronan Ashwood’s side.

Whether I’m ready or not.