Episode 6: Whispers and Wolves
1065 Words
Morning light spilled across Aelin's bed, painting the gauzy curtains gold. For a moment she forgot where she was. Then she remembered the ring on her finger, the echo of a howl and a pair of golden eyes staring back at her from the darkness. She sat up, the duvet pooling around her waist, and rubbed her hands over her face. Had she really seen a wolf in the garden? Or had exhaustion played tricks on her? Either way, she needed answers.
In the breakfast room, a long table was laid with silver domes and gleaming china. Damian was nowhere to be seen. Instead a man in his late twenties lounged at the far end, booted feet kicked up on a chair. He had tousled chestnut hair, sharp cheekbones, and a grin that would have charmed a saint. When he spotted Aelin, he sprang to his feet and bowed with exaggerated flourish.
"Good morning, Mrs. Stone," he said, then winced as if he'd bitten his tongue. "I mean, Aelin. I'm Marcus."
"Marcus?" she repeated, trying not to smile at his theatricality.
"Marcus Hale," he elaborated, snatching a roll off a platter. "Damian's... associate."
"His friend," Ms. Gregory corrected as she swept in with a carafe of coffee. "And second in command," she added, giving Marcus a stern look. "Mind your manners."
Marcus smirked but turned his attention back to Aelin. "Forgive me if I seem overeager. We've been waiting for you."
"Why would you be waiting for me?" she asked, sipping her coffee.
His eyes flicked to the ring on her finger and for a heartbeat something like respect crossed his face. "Because you're important." His grin returned. "So, do you like eggs?"
As they ate, Marcus peppered her with questions about her life—what music she liked, whether she'd ever ridden a horse. He told stories about growing up with Damian that painted the usually stoic CEO in a different light. He'd once fallen out of a tree trying to rescue a cat. He'd punched someone for making fun of Marcus's stutter as a boy. Aelin found herself laughing more than she expected. When she thanked him for his kindness, he shrugged. "Anything for our—" He bit off the word.
"Your what?" she pressed.
He glanced at Ms. Gregory, who arched a brow. "Our guest," he finished lamely. "Anyway, Damian wants you to accompany him to the office today. He left at dawn but said he'd send a car."
The ride into the city was smooth and quiet. Damian was waiting in the lobby of Stone Enterprises, flanked by men in suits and earpieces. He looked every inch the untouchable billionaire, but his gaze softened slightly when he saw her.
"I trust Stonehaven didn't frighten you too much last night," he said, leading her through marble halls.
"Only the part where your back garden sprouts supernatural wildlife," she retorted. "Do you always have wolves wandering around?"
His jaw tightened. "We have security. The grounds back onto a nature reserve. It isn't unusual to hear animals."
She shot him a look that told him she wasn't convinced, but this was neither the time nor place to push. The doors to the boardroom opened and conversations hushed. Men and women in suits turned to stare, some openly curious, others with thinly veiled disapproval.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Damian announced, his voice filling the room, "my wife, Aelin Parker-Stone."
Whispers rippled like wind through tall grass. She caught snatches of phrases—"so young", "human", "pretty though"—and forced her chin up, meeting their stares head-on. She might not know what she was to these people, but she refused to be cowed.
She sat beside Damian, signing papers she barely understood, initials and full signatures that made her hand cramp. During a break, Fiona breezed in with coffee and a stack of reports. She smiled warmly at Aelin. "You're braver than I would be," she whispered conspiratorially. "This place is full of sharks."
Damian's office on the top floor was all glass and steel, with a view of the entire city. He handed her a sandwich and leaned against the desk, loosening his tie. "You handled them well," he said.
"They're not fond of me," she replied. "Because I'm not... like you?"
He considered her for a moment. "They're not fond of anyone who threatens their power or their sense of order. They're old. They fear change." He took a bite of his sandwich, swallowed. "I lost my parents when I was twenty. Suddenly I was CEO and Alpha—" He cut himself off with a sharp inhale.
"Alpha?" she echoed.
He coughed. "And I had to prove myself." He looked out at the skyline. "You'll learn that most of what people hate about you has nothing to do with you and everything to do with themselves."
Aelin watched him. The mask had slipped just enough to reveal a young man who had been forced to grow up too fast. "Thank you—for defending me," she said quietly.
He met her gaze. There was a softness there she hadn't seen before. "You don't have to thank me for what's my duty." He glanced at his watch. "We should go."
As they walked toward the elevator, a young woman carrying a stack of files brushed past them. "Good afternoon, Alpha. Luna," she said with a respectful nod.
Aelin stumbled. "Luna?" she whispered, grabbing Damian's arm. "She just called me Luna."
Damian's expression shuttered. "In some cultures, it's a term of respect for the lady of the house," he said smoothly, pressing the elevator button. "Don't read too much into it."
But she did. The word nestled under her skin, humming like a secret. Wolves in the garden, glowing eyes, and now a title that made her feel like the heroine of a fantasy novel. When they returned to Stonehaven, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows over the lawn. As Damian disappeared into his study with Marcus, Aelin lingered in the hallway, listening to their muffled voices. She couldn't make out the words, but she heard the urgency. Something was happening—something to do with her, with wolves, with this strange new world she'd married into.
She vowed, right then, that she would find out. Secrets rarely stayed buried forever, and she wasn't afraid of a little dirt under her nails.
- Writer
