Scarred by Moonlight

Chapter 5: Order in Disorder

Olrun sat in his office, his fingers pressing into his temples as Seraphine’s voice droned on, filling the room with an endless stream of words. It was the endless screeching of a harpy, grating on the fine edge of his nerves. She was perched on the edge of his desk, her pristine white dress hugging her slim figure as she gestured animatedly about some new restaurant opening in the city.

The thought occurred that if he’d stuffed her mouth, putting it to far better use than her constant PR stunts, perhaps it would end his suffering, but knowing Seraphine, she’d probably just try and talk around it.

“It’s the it place right now, Olrun,” she said, her voice dripping with feigned enthusiasm. “I got us reservations. They’re nearly impossible to get, but of course, I pulled some strings. We’ll be the center of attention. Of course, I’m coordinating our outfits.” Her blue eyes sparkled as if she was already picturing him in shades of ice blue, a color Olrun had come to loathe.

Olrun barely acknowledged her, his attention fixed on the stack of invoices in front of him. The pack’s security firm had been dealing with late payments from clients, two in particular, and the financial strain was becoming an unnecessary headache. Seraphine’s chatter about social appearances couldn’t have felt more irrelevant. It wasn’t as if the pack was broke but Olrun liked order, he liked when everything was in the place where it should be.

His mother had sworn that he had OCD when he was younger, always arranging his food on his plate before he ate, making sure his toys were in proper order before bed, and never wanting to be given things in odd numbers. But Olrun didn’t subscribe to that. He likes order and the calm that order brought. When everything had a place, everything stayed in its place.

“Are you even listening to me?” she asked, her tone sharp now, as if she had just now noticed his lack of engagement.

Olrun groaned internally, and Atlas pounced on the opportunity to point out, “Gold digging w***e…”

“We have needs that she happens to fulfill.” Olrun reminded Atlas that everything had a place in his life.

Atlas huffed, “Our mate will be more beautiful, more warm, less annoying.”

“We’re twenty-five, bud. There’s no mate for us.”

“I’m listening,” he replied to Seraphine without looking up, his voice flat.

She sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. “You work too much, Olrun. People will start thinking you’re some kind of recluse if you don’t make appearances.”

For a moment, Olrun wondered why he put up with her. Maybe, and he hated admitting it, Atlas was right. Then in that way she always did, Seraphine leaned forward to expose just the slightest curve of her breasts. Olrun finally glanced up, his emerald eyes meeting hers. The effort it took to muster even a polite nod felt Herculean. “Fine. Reservations. I’ll go.”

The truth was, he didn’t care about the restaurant or the image Seraphine wanted to portray. She had been hovering closer lately, trying to solidify her place as his chosen Luna in the eyes of the pack, but Olrun had no intention of indulging her ambitions. He would have her body and give her authority to handle small pack affairs, but Estella, Grayson’s mate, was a phenomenal stand-in for Luna. Estella and her friends handled all of the boring womanly affairs, and everything ran smoothly. He didn't need to stir the pot.

Seraphine would never really be able to stand at his side as his equal. She could care less about affairs, making sure inventories for the pack kitchens were stocked, or ensuring pack schools were adequately staffed. She just wanted pretty dressed and extravagant parties. Still, he didn’t have the energy to argue. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and agreeing seemed like the quickest way to get her out of his office.

Seraphine’s smile turned smug. “Good. I’ll see you tonight.” She stood, smoothing the fabric of her dress as she made her way to the door.

Just as she opened it, Ryker walked in, his usual swagger accompanied by a smirk. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his piercing blue eyes flicking between Olrun and Seraphine.

“Oh, look who it is,” Ryker said with mock surprise. “The Serpent Queen herself. Make sure you clean the sides of your mouth, wouldn’t want any little heirs getting away, would we?”

Seraphine’s lips curled into a sneer. “Spoken like a damned mutt,” she retorted, her voice venomous.

Ryker’s grin widened, clearly entertained by her anger. “You’re as charming as ever, Seraphine. Really, just premium bitching today.”

She huffed and pushed past him, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she left the office. Ryker watched her go, shaking his head. “Why do you even entertain her?”

Olrun sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t. She entertains herself. Now, what do you want?”

Ryker straightened, his tone shifting to something more serious. “The Sacred Dawn survivors are here. Just arrived. There’s about 37 men women and children we’ll be taking in.”

Olrun’s eyes flickered with recognition, and he pushed himself up from his chair. “Good. I’ll be down in a second.”

“Good?” Ryker raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say? It’s not every day you take in a pack of refugees.”

“They’re not my priority right now,” Olrun muttered. “Right now, I need you to handle something else first. The security firm’s client, the Nobutoshi family, is still refusing to pay their bill. Get them in line.”

Ryker groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re kidding me. One of the handlers can do that. I was planning on checking out the new arrivals, maybe—”

Olrun cut him off with a sharp glare. “If you spent as much time on your Beta duties as you did sniffing around random she-wolves, this pack would run itself. I thought you were going to settle down with Ashley, finally.”

Ryker gave a roughish smile and rang a hand through his dirty blonde hair. “Come on, man, there’s no taming the wolf. Ashley is amazing, but she’s just one woman. I need variety.”

Olrun sighed, “Just get your ass in gear. Or the only cat you’ll be chasing will be the strays for your next meal.”

Ryker opened his mouth to argue but seemed to think better of it. He threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll deal with it. You know where to find me when you need someone to yell at again. And for your information, I don’t chase cat. Cat chases me.”

Olrun didn’t respond, already grabbing his jacket as he made his way out of the office. Atlas stirred restlessly in the back of his mind, urging him to move faster.

“Go downstairs. Now. She’s here.”

“Atlas, what the hell are you talking about? She who?”

Atlas was practically whimpering, “Don’t walk! Run!”

Olrun brushed the thought aside, descending the stairs with slow, deliberate steps. As he reached the main floor of the packhouse, he saw the survivors milling about, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and relief. But all of them faded into the background the moment he saw her.

A woman stood near the center of the room, her posture tense and her eyes distant. She wore a battered jacket, the fabric torn in places, revealing that there was no shirt underneath, just supple brown skin. Her sweatpants were old and stained with dried blood, the signs of someone who had fought and struggled to survive. Her dark hair, streaked with burgundy, was wild and unkempt, framing a face that was both weary and beautiful.

To Olrun, she was the most stunning creature he had ever seen. A goddess of chaos and discord, and the disorder he wanted to tame in heat and passion. Her whiskey-colored eyes held a depth of emotion that seemed to pierce straight through him. She looked like a warrior who had been to hell and back, and yet, there was an undeniable strength in her presence. But even in all of that, she looked soft, feminine. It drove him wild.

Atlas surged forward in his mind, his voice filled with awe and urgency. “MATE. Dammit, Olrun, she’s our mate. Claim her. Now.”

Olrun’s chest tightened as the bond snapped into place, the force of it almost overwhelming. For a moment, he felt like the air had been knocked out of him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. The pull was undeniable, magnetic, like gravity itself was urging him to go to her.

But Olrun clenched his jaw, forcing himself to push down the instinctual urge to act. He had too much at stake. His pack, his businesses, the fragile stability he had built—it all rested on his shoulders. He didn’t have the luxury of indulging in the mate bond.

“She’s beautiful,” Atlas growled, his voice laced with longing. “You can’t walk away from her. You won’t.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Olrun muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.

“You don’t have time for the only thing that matters?” Atlas snapped, furious.

She stepped forward, and the word “Alpha” poured from her full lips. She’d felt it too. It was enough to make Olrun drop to his knees in front of her and worship, to bury his face in her neck and take in that scent. She was whiskey notes and sunshine, he wanted to drown in it!

But Olrun had already made up his mind. With a sharp inhale, he turned and walked away, ignoring the protests of his wolf and the ache in his chest.

Atlas roared in anger. “You f*****g i***t! Turn around! Go back to her! The Goddess gave her to us! We need her!”

Each step away from her felt like a blade cutting deeper into his soul, but he forced himself to move. Sacrifice is the price of power. He repeated the mantra silently, as if it could drown out Atlas’s enraged howls. Yet, even as he climbed back to his office, he knew one thing with devastating clarity—he could run, but he could never truly escape her.

“We don’t have time for this!”