Terms of Surrender

A New Variable: Tess

The relief that Darian was gone was quickly replaced by a desperate need for information. I heard the elevator doors slide shut, confirming his departure. My mind was whirling with this new data. The reason for the land. I left the coffee abandoned on the counter and didn’t bother with the kitchen light as I returned to the east wing’s bedroom to collect my notebook and pens. Then I headed for the study.

I wrote down his claim and began to analyze it. The full moon is a scientific calendar event. “The Change” is a scheduled mass event that Darian and “his people” believe in. The ritual aspect of this gave reason to confirm my theory that Darian led some archaic cult. However, I still didn’t understand what “the Change” is or how the necessity for such massive land purchases played into it.

Last night he called me “Luna.” I needed to understand if this was a term of endearment or a title. If he’s the “Alpha” of this cult, then clearly there’s a hierarchy. I needed to know where I fell within it. I needed to understand the chain of command.

The first book I retrieved from the shelf was Legends of the Silver Peak. I was hoping that it would shed some light on whatever this “Silvercrest Pack” was exactly. I couldn’t help skimming through the pages, searching specifically for chapters that touched on what Darian’s already revealed. The mythological descriptions were so detailed. They were too consistent and violent to believe that they were just folklore.

The passages mentioned lycanthropy, inherited strength, and the “Mate Bond” as an inherent magical link. If Darian truly believed this, then he wasn’t just speaking in metaphor. The question was: was he capable of literally changing form? Or was he completely out of his mind? It seemed too impossible for my analytical mind to believe. As I continued to read, my hands started to shake. Either way, I realized just how dangerous of a situation I’d found myself in.

I closed the book and went back to my notes. I had to force myself back into analyzing. I had to find a way to use this information strategically. If he was a werewolf, then he followed pack rules. The Luna wasn’t just a priestess like I had started to think she may be. The “pack” genuinely relied on her for stability…which is what he claimed he needed me for. If he believed I was his Luna, then my value was higher than I thought.

I continued studying the books, one at a time, searching them thoroughly for answers. As much as I struggled to believe Darian Whitmore was a werewolf, I knew at the very least, he believed he was. I needed to find a way to weaponize this belief and use it to my advantage.

I came across a passage in another book that mentioned inter-pack conflicts and boundary defenses. If this was a territory, who would be the greatest threat to the Silvercrest Alpha? I had to discover Darian’s external enemies. The only place I knew to start was with corporate enemies. What companies were his biggest rivals and who might be hiding under a corporate facade right in full view of the world? Or, who might Darian believe was doing so?

The ding of the elevator, faint and distant, broke me out of my thoughts. I froze, uncertain if I’m ready to face Darian again. It’s only noon. He made it seem as if he would be out all day. I sucked in a deep breath, calming myself and setting my resolve.

As I approached the kitchen, I could hear the rustle of bags, the dull thud of cabinet doors, and the soft hiss of air from the fridge door closing. It’s not Darian standing there, putting away groceries. This man is just as tall though, not quite as broad-shouldered, and radiates lean strength. He and Darian could almost pass for brothers, except for the fact that his honey blonde hair is slicked back, while Darian has dark hair.

I attempted to back out of the kitchen, quietly, unnoticed, but it was too late. He turned to face me, and for a second, he appeared startled, as if he hadn’t expected me here. “My apologies, Ms. Beaumont,” he started, as if he were the one that startled me instead. “Darian asked me to restock the kitchen, I didn’t realize you were here and not with him.”

I don’t say anything. My eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing him. I was afraid to hope for an ally in him.

“Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Leon Starling, Darian’s Be-uh…assistant.”

I catch the stutter. The slip of him almost saying something he isn’t supposed to. Or that he at least thinks he isn’t supposed to.

“That’s okay,” my voice was low and quiet, despite my heart beating rapidly, betraying me. “You can call me Tess.”

He nodded in response, but it felt more like a bow than just a mere acknowledgement of my words. “Right. I will finish this, then I will get out of your hair.”

I watched him, quiet and analyzing. Once he was gone, I prepared a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I ate slowly, purposefully, proving I would comply only with the beneficial demands, then returned to the study. I purposely sat in the imposing leather chair behind the mahogany desk and waited for Darian to return.