The Alpha's Contract Luna

Chapter 7

Nadia had never trusted locked doors.

In her experience, people locked things away for two reasons: they wanted to protect something valuable, or they didn't want anyone discovering what they'd done.

The old records room at Blackthorn Estate looked like it had been built for the second reason.

Dust covered the shelves. Cardboard boxes were stacked against the walls, and a single desk lamp illuminated the papers spread across a table. Darius stood beside a section of exposed panelling, holding a thick brown file.

Roman entered first.

“What have you found?”

Darius handed him the file.

“It was hidden behind the panelling. Someone sealed it inside the wall.”

Roman opened it.

Nadia watched his expression change as he read the first page.

“What is it?” she asked.

He didn't answer.

She stepped closer. “Roman.”

He looked up.

“It's a record from twenty-six years ago.”

“And?”

His hesitation made her stomach tighten.

“Nadia, your mother's name is in here.”

She held out her hand.

“Give it to me.”

Roman didn't move.

“Please,” she said, her voice sharper now. “I've spent my entire life knowing almost nothing about my mother's family. I'm not going to stand here while you read my history without me.”

He looked at her for a long moment before handing over the file.

The first page contained a list of names, dates, and brief notes. Most meant nothing to her.

Then she saw it.

ELENA MOONCREST — STATUS: MISSING

Below the name was a date.

The date was three months before Nadia's birth.

Her fingers tightened around the paper.

“My mother's name was Elena Cole.”

Roman moved closer. “She may have changed her surname.”

“May have?” Nadia looked at him. “It's her name, Roman. I know my own mother's name.”

“I didn't mean—”

She turned the page before he could finish.

A photograph had been attached to the next sheet.

Nadia stopped breathing.

The woman in the photograph had dark hair, a narrow face, and the same small dimple beside her mouth that Nadia saw whenever she smiled. She looked younger than Nadia remembered her mother being, but there was no mistaking her.

It was Elena.

On the back of the photograph, someone had written a short note.

The child must remain hidden. The council cannot know she survived.

Nadia read it twice.

Then a third time.

“What child?”

Neither man answered.

She looked at Roman.

“What child?”

His face was pale.

Darius shifted uncomfortably. “Nadia, perhaps we should—”

“No.” She held up the photograph. “Someone wrote that a child had to be hidden. My mother disappeared from these records before I was born. Now you're all looking at me like I'm a bomb with a ticking clock. So tell me what this means.”

Roman took a breath.

“We don't know for certain.”

“I'm tired of that answer.”

“I know.”

“Then find a better one.”

She turned back to the file.

Several pages were missing. Others had been damaged by moisture. At the bottom of one sheet, she found a handwritten sentence.

If the Mooncrest heir is discovered, the old agreement must be honoured.

Nadia frowned.

“What agreement?”

Roman read the line over her shoulder.

His expression darkened.

“I've never heard of it.”

“But your family kept the file.”

“My father kept a lot of records.”

“Then perhaps he knew something.”

Roman said nothing.

That silence told her he had thought the same thing.

They moved to the library, where Darius spread the remaining documents across a large table.

Roman called for copies to be made and instructed the staff to keep the discovery private. Nadia barely listened. She was too busy studying the photograph.

She remembered her mother in fragments: warm hands, a soft voice, the smell of vanilla lotion, and the way she used to check the locks before bed.

When Nadia was eight, her mother had tucked her into bed and said something she hadn't understood at the time.

If anyone ever asks you about your family, tell them you don't know.

Nadia had assumed it was a warning about strangers.

Now she wasn't sure.

“Did your mother ever mention the name Mooncrest?” Roman asked.

“No.”

“Any unusual family traditions? Anything she told you to keep secret?”

Nadia looked at him.

“I'm beginning to think my entire childhood was one long secret.”

She put the photograph down.

“She died when I was young. My father never talked much about her after that. I thought it hurt him too much.”

“Perhaps it did.”

“Or perhaps he knew something.”

Roman didn't argue.

For the first time, Nadia appreciated that he wasn't trying to fill every silence with an answer he didn't have.

Darius returned from the far end of the library with another sheet of paper.

“There’s something else.”

Roman looked up. “What?”

“The date on the file. Elena Mooncrest disappeared three months before Nadia was born. But this entry was added six years later.”

He placed the page on the table.

SUBJECT: FEMALE CHILD. APPROXIMATE AGE: SIX. LOCATION UNKNOWN.

Below it was a short description.

Dark hair. Brown eyes. Small crescent-shaped birthmark near the base of the left thumb.

Nadia stared at the page.

Her hand began to tingle.

“No,” she whispered.

Roman looked at her palm.

The silver crescent appeared beneath her skin, faint but unmistakable.

Darius stepped back.

“That's impossible.”

Nadia barely heard him.

She was remembering the photograph, the note, the locked doors, and the way Alistair had looked at her when he'd seen her hand.

They hadn't been guessing.

They had been looking for her.

“Why would anyone hide me?” she asked.

Roman's voice was quiet.

“I don't know.”

She turned on him.

“Then help me find out.”

“I will.”

“No more secrets. If you discover something about me, you tell me. I don't care how dangerous it is or how much trouble it causes your pack.”

Roman held her gaze.

“I promise.”

She wanted to believe him.

That was becoming a dangerous habit.

Later that afternoon, Nadia found herself alone in the estate's back garden.

The air was cold enough to sting her cheeks. Beyond the stone path, the woods stretched across the property, dense and quiet. She could see why people liked living here. It was peaceful in a way Manhattan never could be.

She wasn't sure she could ever get used to it.

Footsteps sounded behind her.

Roman stopped beside the garden wall.

“You disappeared.”

“I needed air.”

“Are you all right?”

Nadia gave him a humourless laugh.

“My mother's name is in a secret file. Apparently, someone hid me as a child, and the local supernatural government may have an interest in my existence. So, yes. I'm having a perfectly normal Friday.”

Roman leaned against the wall beside her.

“I know I can't make this easier.”

“You could start by telling me why your father kept those records.”

“I'll look into it.”

She glanced at him. “You really don't know?”

“No.”

There was no evasion in his voice this time.

Nadia looked back towards the trees.

“I used to think my mother left nothing behind except a few photographs and a box of old jewellery. Now I find out she may have belonged to some ancient bloodline that people are willing to hide children over.”

Roman's expression softened.

“You're allowed to be angry.”

“I'm not sure angry covers it.”

“Then whatever you're feeling.”

She looked at him.

It was a simple thing to say, but nobody had said it to her in years. People expected Nadia to be capable. To handle things. To solve problems without falling apart.

Roman, for once, wasn't asking her to be strong.

That unsettled her more than his warnings.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He nodded.

Their shoulders nearly touched. Neither moved away.

For a brief moment, Nadia wondered what it would feel like to lean against him.

The thought was ridiculous.

She was engaged to him by contract, not by choice. He was a werewolf, an Alpha, and a man who had hidden an entire world from her.

She had no business wanting comfort from him.

So she stepped away.

“I need to call Amara.”

“Of course.”

“And I want copies of every page in that file.”

“You'll have them.”

“Today.”

“Today.”

She gave him a small nod and headed towards the house.

Roman watched her go, fighting the urge to follow.

Ares stirred in the back of his mind.

She is frightened.

She has reason to be.

Protect her.

Roman looked towards the woods.

“I am trying.”

But protecting Nadia was no longer as simple as keeping the council away from her.

She wanted answers, and the answers were buried in the same history his father had tried to conceal.

That evening, Roman returned to the library after Nadia went upstairs.

Darius was waiting beside the table, holding one final document.

“I found this tucked into the back cover,” he said.

Roman took it.

Unlike the other pages, this one bore his father's signature.

The message was brief.

To my son,

If you are reading this, the Mooncrest line has returned. Do not allow the council to claim the child. They will tell you it is for the good of the pack. They will say the old agreement demands it. Do not believe them.

The child is not theirs to command.

Roman read the note again.

His father's handwriting was unmistakable.

“What agreement?” he asked.

Darius shook his head. “I don't know.”

Roman folded the letter carefully.

His father had known about Nadia. Perhaps not her name, but enough to fear what would happen if the council found her.

And now the council had found her.

Ares's voice rose inside him.

They will take her.

“No,” Roman said.

Darius looked up.

“Did you say something?”

Roman slipped the letter into his pocket.

“Prepare the security team. No one approaches Nadia without my approval.”

“Roman, if the council discovers you're withholding evidence—”

“Let them discover it.”

He turned towards the library door.

For years, he'd believed his father's final warning was about an old political dispute, one that had died with him.

He understood now that it had been a warning about a person.

Nadia Cole wasn't simply connected to the Mooncrest bloodline.

She was the child his father had tried to protect.

And if the council learned the truth, Roman might have to choose between his position as Alpha and the woman his wolf already called his mate.