[redith].
With Dennis ahead and Draven walking beside , we stepped outside the house after lunch.
And Draven didn’t leave imdiately. Instead, he stood by the door while Dennis reached for the keys, his presence filling the space in that quiet, commanding way he had.
Then, without raising his voice, he said, "My mate is in your care."
I paused for a mont. Dennis paused too, slowly turning to look at him with a look that was half disbelief, half mock offence.
"That," Dennis said, clicking his tongue, "is a very big task you’re handing ."
Draven’s gaze didn’t waver. "One you shouldn’t fail."
Dennis lifted both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. No pressure at all."
I hid my smile. Monts later, we were on the road.
---
The local market of the Mystic Furs Pack was already alive when we arrived. Stone stalls lined the open square, banners bearing pack symbols fluttering lightly in the breeze.
The air slled of leather, dried at, tal—and faintly, herbs.
Dennis parked and jumped out first, rounding the car to open my door with exaggerated flair.
"After you, Luna."
I shot him a warning look, and he grinned wider.
The mont we stepped into the market, I could feel it—the subtle shift. A few vendors glanced my way, so recognizing instantly. Their backs straightened, heads dipped respectfully, even if their expressions remained guarded.
Others didn’t recognize at all, but their eyes widened the mont they saw Dennis.
"Alpha’s younger brother," soone murmured.
Dennis, infuriating as always, leaned closer to one vendor and said cheerfully, "And this is our Luna."
I pinched his arm hard, and he laughed.
"I’m trying to help," he whispered. "You deserve respect."
"I want herbs," I muttered. "Not attention."
Still, the respect followed us. Dennis carried every bag without complaint at first. Bundles of dried leaves, wrapped roots, and small clay jars. With each purchase, he lifted a brow.
"What’s this one for?"
"Anti-inflammatory."
"And this?"
"Fever."
"And that?"
"Digestive."
He whistled. "You’ve officially turned into your driver, your guard, and now, your servant."
"If you ask one more question," I warned, "I will make you grind the roots by hand."
He shut up briefly. But as we moved deeper into the market, my enthusiasm dimd. I examined a bundle of leaves, then shook my head.
"Too dry."
Another stall—roots that had lost their colour.
"Not fresh."
Dennis noticed and asked, "Any problem?"
"Mystic Furs isn’t known for dicine," I said honestly. "Your land is strong. But herbs like these don’t thrive here. My Moonstone specializes in them."
His eyes lit up. "Then let’s go to Moonstone Pack."
"No." The refusal ca too fast.
Dennis blinked. "That was quick."
I turned away under the pretence of examining another stall. "Let’s check a few herb stores here first."
He studied —not teasing this ti, but thoughtful. Then he shrugged. "Alright. I know a place."
The store he took to was tucked away, quieter than the market. Wooden shelves lined the walls, jars neatly labelled. The scent was better and cleaner here. Still not enough.
I found so of what I needed, but not all.
Dennis watched carefully as he loaded the last bag into his arms. "You sure you don’t want to go to Moonstone?"
I forced a light tone. "Let’s make do with what we can find today."
He didn’t push. But sothing in his eyes said he hadn’t missed my hesitation. "Okay."
I nodded, paid the vendor with so wads of cash, and let him usher back into the car.
The ride back to the Oatrun Estate was quieter than the market. Not awkward, just thoughtful.
When we arrived, servants were already waiting, as if word had travelled faster than we had. They moved quickly and efficiently, taking the bags from the trunk and from my hands.
"Take the herbs to the ground-floor room," I instructed. "The one with the double doors."
They bowed and hurried off.
Dennis grabbed two heavier bags before anyone else could reach them. "I’m not done helping," he said, already walking. "So, you will just have to endure my presence a little longer."
I didn’t argue.
The room Draven had cleared out for yesterday was exactly as he had promised.
Sunlight poured in through wide windows, warming the stone floor. The air moved freely, carrying the faint scent of soil and flowers from the small garden just outside.
One door opened straight into that flowerbed—lavender, rosemary, and a few budding plants I recognized instantly.
A long worktable sat at the centre, smooth and clean, with chairs tucked neatly beneath it. Empty shelves lined one wall, waiting.
I stood there for a mont, just breathing it in. "I like it," I said quietly.
Dennis nodded. "It suits you."
We got to work imdiately. I sorted the herbs carefully, separating leaves from roots, setting aside those that needed drying, preserving the more delicate ones.
anwhile, Dennis surprised by following instructions without complaint—holding bundles steady, labelling jars, and even grinding a few roots when I asked.
"Careful with that one," I told him. "Too much pressure bruises it."
"Yes, Luna," he said solemnly, then ruined it with a grin.
Still, when I finally stepped back, my chest tightened with unease. No matter the efforts, this wasn’t enough.
The herbs were good. So were even excellent. But they weren’t complete.
Dennis noticed imdiately. "You’re thinking about Moonstone."
I didn’t answer, so he leaned against the table. "Since this is your first event, you should take it seriously. Disregard everything else."
My fingers stilled over a bundle of leaves. I exhaled slowly. "I don’t want to go there," I said at last. "Not yet."
"Why?"
I hesitated, then gave him the truth. "I don’t want my pack mbers to see . And more than that... I don’t want to run into my family."
Dennis didn’t tease this ti. He just nodded. "I get it," he said. "But don’t let old ghosts decide how far you go."
Before I could respond, the entrance door opened. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
I could already sll him.
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