The Alpha's Contract Luna

Chapter 15

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Nadia looked at Roman. He hadn't moved, but something in his face had changed. His expression was still controlled, his shoulders still straight, yet the hand resting beside the table had curled into a fist.

“My father died twelve years ago,” Roman said. “If you're going to accuse him of betraying an Alpha who lived centuries ago, you'd better have more than a story.”

Alistair didn't flinch.

“I expected you to react that way.”

“Then you should have prepared a better explanation.”

Darius quietly moved closer to the door. He wasn't blocking anyone in, exactly, but Nadia noticed that he had positioned himself where he could reach either Roman or Alistair quickly.

She wished people would stop doing that around her. Every conversation in this world seemed one sentence away from becoming a fight.

“Can someone explain what we're actually talking about?” she asked. “Because I thought we were discussing an ancient betrayal. Now we're accusing a dead man of committing it.”

Alistair looked at her.

“The first Alpha, Cael Varrick, lived centuries ago. His bond was broken, his wolf became unstable, and the Mooncrest keeper died trying to stop the destruction. That's the accepted history.”

“And the part you left out?”

“Certain members of the council believe Cael was not simply a victim. They believe he was part of an experiment intended to transfer the power of his bond.”

Roman's eyes narrowed. “An experiment conducted by whom?”

“The Veyne family was involved.”

“That's not the same as saying my father was responsible.”

“No,” Alistair admitted. “It isn't.”

Nadia folded her arms.

“Then why did you say it was?”

Alistair hesitated.

“Because Victor Veyne was the last person known to possess the original record of the ritual. After his death, it disappeared.”

Roman stared at him.

“My father never mentioned any record.”

“Perhaps he didn't want you to know.”

The words landed badly.

Nadia could see Roman trying to fit this new information around everything he believed about his father. It was the kind of problem she understood from her work. People often spent years building a picture of someone they loved, only to discover that the picture had been missing half the details.

The truth didn't always erase the good things. Sometimes it just made them harder to hold on to.

“Do you have evidence?” Roman asked.

“I have the council's testimony, the surviving reports, and a letter written by your father.”

“Where is it?”

Alistair looked at the table.

“Not here.”

Roman gave a short, humorless laugh.

“Of course not.”

“Roman,” Nadia said quietly.

He glanced at her.

“Let him finish. If he's lying, we need to know how. If he's telling the truth, we need to know why.”

Roman's jaw worked for a moment before he nodded.

Alistair reached inside his coat and produced a folded sheet of paper.

“I brought this because I knew you would find the training room. I was hoping we could discuss it before you opened the records.”

“You could have started with that,” Darius muttered.

Alistair ignored him.

Roman took the paper and unfolded it.

The handwriting was unmistakably his father's. Nadia recognized it from the letter in the ancient file at the estate.

The council has mistaken silence for agreement. Cael's bond was not broken by chance, and the Mooncrest keeper was not responsible for his fall. The ritual was approved by men who believed a bond could be separated from the people who carried it.

The page ended abruptly.

Roman read it again.

“My father knew what happened.”

“He knew something,” Alistair said. “Whether he participated in the ritual or later tried to stop it is the question.”

“And you expect me to believe the council kept this secret for centuries?”

“The council has changed over time. Some records were destroyed. Others were altered. The people who hold power are not always the people who know the truth.”

Nadia tapped the page.

“Then why keep the original record hidden?”

“Because it contains the names of everyone who participated.”

Roman lifted his eyes.

“And someone stole it this morning.”

“Yes.”

Darius checked his phone again. “Security is reviewing the footage. Whoever accessed the archive knew where to look and how to avoid the main cameras.”

“Find them,” Roman said.

“I intend to.”

Darius left the room.

Nadia watched him go, then turned back to Alistair.

“You said my mother believed the same thing. That the Veyne family was involved.”

“She believed the council had twisted the story. She was trying to find the original record before it could be used against her family.”

“Did she trust Victor?”

Alistair's expression became difficult to read.

“At one time, yes.”

“And later?”

“I don't know.”

Nadia hated that answer. She hated how often it appeared whenever she asked about her mother.

“Did Elena leave because of the Hollow Alpha?”

“Partly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means she discovered something that made her fear the council would come after you.”

Nadia looked down at her wrist. The silver mark had faded, but she could still feel a faint warmth beneath her skin.

“What did she discover?”

Alistair shook his head.

“I don't know the whole truth.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it is true.”

Nadia stepped away from the table. “Then perhaps you should stop acting like you're the only person allowed to decide which pieces of the truth we can handle.”

Alistair lowered his gaze.

For the first time, he looked ashamed.

“I deserve that.”

She hadn't expected him to agree.

Roman folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket.

“We're finished here. Alistair, you're staying at the estate until Darius verifies the archive records.”

“You can't detain a council member simply because someone used his access code.”

“I can when I'm the Alpha responsible for this estate and someone is stealing evidence from under my roof.”

Alistair's expression hardened, but he didn't argue.

Roman turned to Nadia.

“Come with me.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Ask nicely.”

He stared at her for a second.

“Please come with me. I need to think.”

“Better.”

They left the room together.

Roman took her to a small study on the second floor of the east wing. Unlike his Manhattan office, it was cluttered with old books, photographs, and papers that looked as though they had been moved from one shelf to another for years without anyone deciding where they belonged.

He shut the door behind them.

For a while, he said nothing.

Nadia let him have the silence. She wasn't sure what to think about Victor Veyne herself, and Roman had known the man as his father, not as a name in a historical investigation.

Finally, he pulled a photograph from a drawer.

It showed Roman as a child, sitting beside Victor in a garden. His father had one arm around his shoulders. Roman was smiling at the camera, and Victor looked down at him with an expression that was almost unbearably tender.

“My father wasn't a perfect man,” Roman said. “He could be secretive. He believed that keeping information to himself was the same as keeping people safe.”

Nadia sat in the chair opposite him.

“Sounds familiar.”

He glanced at her.

“I know.”

“Sorry. That was unfair.”

“No, it wasn't.”

He set the photograph down.

“He taught me that an Alpha's responsibility was to protect his people, even when they hated him for the decisions he made. I built my life around that idea.”

“And now you're wondering whether he used that same excuse to justify something terrible.”

Roman looked at the photograph again.

“Yes.”

Nadia understood that feeling more than she wanted to. Her own memories of her mother were incomplete, but she had spent years defending Elena's absence to people who asked questions. She had told herself there must have been a good reason.

Maybe there had been.

But a reason didn't undo the hurt.

“You don't have to decide who your father was today,” she said. “You can find out what he did first.”

Roman looked at her for a long moment.

“You make that sound simple.”

“It isn't. I'm a divorce lawyer. I spend my days listening to people explain why the person they married isn't the person they thought they knew.”

“And does it help?”

“Sometimes. Other times, they just want me to tell them they're right.”

“Are they?”

“Almost never.”

A quiet laugh escaped him.

It was brief, but it eased something in the room.

Nadia leaned forward.

“There's another possibility. Your father may have helped with the ritual and later regretted it. Or he may have been trying to stop the council from using the record. We don't know yet.”

“You're giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

“I'm giving the evidence the benefit of the doubt. There's a difference.”

Roman nodded slowly.

“I suppose there is.”

His gaze fell to her hand.

“Did you feel anything in the training room?”

She looked at the crescent mark.

“When I touched the document, I saw the ritual. I saw Cael in chains. I saw someone holding a blade, but I couldn't see their face.”

“Could you sense whether they were a wolf?”

“No. I only saw fragments.”

“Did you hear anything?”

Nadia hesitated.

“There was a woman's voice. I think it was Lyra Mooncrest. She was screaming Cael's name.”

Roman leaned forward.

“Can you try to remember what she said?”

“Not without going through it again.”

“Then we won't force it.”

She blinked.

“You're not going to ask me to touch the document until I see more?”

“No.”

“That's surprisingly reasonable.”

“I can be reasonable.”

“Let's not get carried away.”

His mouth curved slightly.

Then the smile disappeared.

“If your gift lets you see the past, the council may try to use you to uncover the ritual. They might argue that you're obligated to help because you're a Mooncrest keeper.”

“Then they can argue with my lawyer.”

“Who's your lawyer?”

Nadia stared at him.

Roman waited a beat.

Then she realized he was joking.

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

For a moment, the room felt almost ordinary.

Then Roman's phone rang.

He answered, listened, and stood.

“What do you mean, the footage is missing?”

Nadia watched his expression harden.

“From every camera?” he asked.

A pause.

“No. Don't restore anything from backup yet. Secure the system and send me the access logs.”

He ended the call.

“What happened?” Nadia asked.

“Someone erased the footage from the archive corridor. Not just this morning. The last three days are gone.”

“Can they recover it?”

“Darius is trying.”

Roman moved toward the door, but Nadia stood.

“Wait.”

He turned.

“The person who stole the record knew we'd come here. They knew where to find the training room, and they knew enough about my gift to expect it to react.”

“Possibly.”

“And they may have known about the sanctuary before we went there.”

Roman's face grew grim.

“Yes.”

Nadia picked up her phone.

“I want to call Amara.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because she's my best friend, and I've been lying to her for days. I can't tell her every supernatural detail yet, but I can at least let her know I'm safe.”

“Of course.”

“And after that, I want to go back to Manhattan.”

Roman looked surprised.

“Now?”

“I have a job, a life, and a marriage contract that hasn't magically erased either one. I need time to think somewhere that doesn't have secret rooms beneath it.”

He considered arguing. She could see it in the set of his shoulders.

Then he nodded.

“I'll arrange the car.”

“Thank you.”

“But Nadia—”

She waited.

“If you experience another vision, don't try to push through it alone. Call me or Darius.”

“I will.”

She paused at the door.

“And Roman?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever your father did, it doesn't automatically make you guilty of it.”

He didn't answer immediately.

Then he said, “I hope you're right.”

They left Blackthorn Estate just after noon.

Nadia sat in the back of the SUV with her phone pressed to her ear, speaking to Amara in a low voice.

“Yes, I'm fine.”

A pause.

“No, that wasn't convincing enough? Okay. I'm alive, I'm eating, and I'm not being held against my will.”

Another pause.

Nadia closed her eyes.

“Amara, please don't ask me to explain everything over the phone. I'll come see you tonight.”

She listened, then smiled faintly.

“Yes. I'll bring food.”

When she ended the call, Roman was looking out the opposite window.

“Your friend doesn't trust me,” he said.

“She's met you.”

“Fair enough.”

Nadia settled back into her seat.

The road stretched ahead, grey and wet beneath the afternoon sky. For the first time since the sanctuary, she felt as though she might have a few hours to breathe.

Then her wrist burned.

She grabbed it with her other hand.

A flash of silver crossed her vision.

A man stood in a dark room, his face hidden behind a cracked mask. He held a leather-bound book in one hand and a silver blade in the other.

A woman's voice whispered from somewhere beyond him.

The blood remembers.

The man lifted his head.

And Nadia saw his eyes.

They were the same shade of grey as Roman's.

The vision vanished.

She gasped.

Roman was beside her in an instant.

“Nadia?”

She stared at him, her heart racing.

“I saw someone.”

“Who?”

“I don't know. His face was hidden, but his eyes…”

She swallowed.

“They looked like yours.”

Roman went very still.

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed with a message from Darius.

Roman read it once, then again.

“What is it?” Nadia asked.

He turned the screen toward her.

The recovered archive log contained one final entry, preserved in a fragment of the system's records.

ACCESS GRANTED: VICTOR VEYNE.

The timestamp was twelve years old.

The date was the day Roman's father died.

And beneath the entry was a note that made Nadia's blood run cold.

DESTINATION: MOONCREST SANCTUARY.