Chapter 3

• The events of the previous day left Elara feeling more adrift than ever. Damien’s world was a labyrinth, full of twists and turns she wasn’t prepared for. She felt like an intruder, navigating the expectations of their fake engagement with no roadmap and a growing sense of unease.
• But it wasn’t just the façade that weighed on her. It was him. Damien Blackthorn—an enigma, a force of nature. The way he commanded every room, every conversation, left her both in awe and on edge.
• That night, as the mansion settled into silence, Elara sat in her room, staring out at the vast gardens bathed in moonlight. Sleep eluded her, her thoughts too loud and chaotic.
• A knock at her door startled her, and she turned to see Damien leaning against the doorframe, his usual composed demeanor in place.
• “Can’t sleep?” he asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
• Elara frowned. “Do you always barge into people’s rooms uninvited?”
• He ignored her question, his gaze sweeping over her. “You looked... preoccupied during dinner. Something on your mind?”
• She crossed her arms, meeting his eyes with a mix of frustration and defiance. “I’m trying to figure out how I fit into all of this.”
• Damien moved closer, his presence filling the room. “You fit because I say you do. That’s all you need to know.”
• “Is that how it works?” she shot back. “You decide everything, and I’m just supposed to fall in line?”
• His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might snap at her. But instead, he surprised her.
• “Come with me,” he said, turning toward the door.
• “What?”
• “Just come,” he said over his shoulder, his tone leaving no room for argument.
• She followed him down a winding staircase and out into the garden. The night air was crisp, and the full moon cast an ethereal glow over the sprawling grounds. Damien led her to a secluded spot by a stone fountain, where the soft trickle of water was the only sound.
• “Why are we out here?” she asked, hugging herself against the chill.
• He turned to face her, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Because you need to understand something.”
• Elara raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
• “You think this is just a business arrangement,” he said, his voice low and measured. “But there’s more to it than that.”
• “What do you mean?”
• He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the moon. For the first time, she saw a flicker of vulnerability in him.
• “Have you ever heard the legend of the luna?” he asked.
• “The luna?” she repeated, confused.
• “In ancient lore, the luna is the soul-bound mate of an alpha,” he explained, his voice tinged with something almost reverent. “She’s his equal, his balance. Without her, he’s incomplete.”
• Elara frowned, unsure of where he was going with this. “And you think... I’m supposed to be your luna?”
• His eyes locked onto hers, piercing and unyielding. “I don’t think. I know.”
• Her breath caught, the weight of his words crashing over her. “That’s... absurd. This is just a contract. We barely know each other.”
• “Fate doesn’t care about contracts or time,” he said, stepping closer. “It chose you, Elara. And whether you like it or not, you’re a part of this now.”
• Her heart pounded as she tried to process his words. “You’re talking like this is destiny or something. But that’s not real—it’s just a story.”
• “Some stories are real,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
• The intensity in his gaze left her breathless, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away.
• “What if I don’t want this?” she asked, her voice trembling.
• “Then fight it,” he said, his tone both a challenge and a plea. “But know this—you’re mine. And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”
• They stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, the tension between them almost unbearable. Finally, Damien turned away, his mask of composure slipping back into place.
• “I’ll have Maria prepare the schedule for tomorrow,” he said, his tone cold and businesslike. “Get some rest.”
• And just like that, he was gone, leaving Elara alone under the moonlight.
• She sank onto the edge of the fountain, her mind spinning. Damien’s words echoed in her ears, stirring something deep within her—something she didn’t want to acknowledge.
• As she gazed at the moon, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her life was no longer her own.
• But more than that, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Damien was right.
• The morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of Elara’s room, casting golden rays across the plush carpet. She had hardly slept, Damien’s words echoing in her mind. You’re mine. Fate doesn’t care about contracts or time.
• She paced the room, the magnitude of the situation suffocating. There was no handbook for navigating a fake engagement with a man who spoke of ancient legends and destiny as if they were concrete truths.
• A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
• “Come in,” she said, her voice laced with reluctance.
• Maria entered, her clipboard in hand and her expression as polished as ever. “Miss Carter, I hope you rested well. Mr. Blackthorn has a full day planned, and your presence will be required at several key events.”
• Elara sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Of course he does.”
• Maria glanced up from her clipboard, her eyes briefly softening. “If I may, Miss Carter, it’s best not to dwell too much. Mr. Blackthorn can be... intense, but his methods always have purpose.”
• “Is that your way of telling me to fall in line?”
• Maria hesitated before replying. “It’s my way of suggesting that understanding his world might make things easier for you.”
• With that cryptic advice, she handed Elara a neatly folded outfit and left, leaving her to prepare for yet another day in Damien’s orbit.
• The car ride into the city was uneventful, but the air inside was heavy with unspoken words. Damien sat beside her, scrolling through his phone, his face a mask of indifference.
• “Do you always control everything?” Elara finally asked, breaking the silence.
• He didn’t look up. “Only the things that matter.”
• “And I’m one of those things?”
• This time, he did look up, his blue eyes locking onto hers. “Yes.”
• The simplicity of his answer left her speechless.
• Their first stop was a charity event at a luxurious hotel downtown. The grand ballroom was filled with the city’s elite, all dressed to impress and eager to be seen.
• Elara felt like an outsider, her unease growing with every step. But Damien’s hand on her lower back was a steadying presence, guiding her through the crowd with practiced ease.
• “Smile,” he murmured, leaning close enough that his breath brushed against her ear. “You’re doing fine.”
• She plastered on a polite smile, her nerves fraying at the edges.
• A woman approached them, her eyes sharp and assessing. “Damien,” she purred, her tone dripping with familiarity. “I didn’t expect to see you here with... company.”
• “Elara,” Damien said smoothly, ignoring the woman’s thinly veiled insult, “this is Sabrina. An old... acquaintance.”
• Sabrina’s eyes flicked over Elara, her smile cold. “Charmed, I’m sure.”
• Elara forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze. “Likewise.”
• Damien’s hand tightened on her waist, a silent reminder to keep her composure. But she couldn’t ignore the way Sabrina’s presence stirred something primal in her—a strange, possessive urge to stand her ground.
• The rest of the event passed in a blur of small talk and calculated smiles. Elara played her part, but the constant scrutiny left her feeling drained.
• By the time they returned to the mansion, she was ready to collapse. But Damien had other plans.
• “Come with me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
• Elara followed him reluctantly, her curiosity piqued despite her exhaustion. He led her through the mansion’s winding halls to a private study.
• The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of aged leather and cedar. Damien closed the door behind them, his expression unreadable.
• “I need you to understand something,” he said, his voice low but firm. “This isn’t just about appearances. The people we’re dealing with—they’re dangerous. They’ll look for any weakness to exploit.”
• “Why are you telling me this now?” she asked, crossing her arms. “You’ve been throwing me into the deep end since day one.”
• “Because you need to be prepared,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re not just my fiancée—you’re my luna. And that makes you a target.”
• The weight of his words settled heavily in the room.
• “What does that even mean?” she demanded. “This luna thing—it’s just a story, right? Some legend you believe in?”
• “It’s not just a story,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “It’s real, Elara. And whether you accept it or not, it’s happening.”
• Her heart pounded as she tried to process his words. “And if I don’t want it?”
• “Then you’ll fight it,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “But you won’t win.”
• She opened her mouth to argue, but the intensity in his eyes left her speechless.
• “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said quietly. “But you have to trust me.”
• Her breath caught, the sincerity in his voice stirring something deep within her.
• “I don’t know if I can,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
• “Then I’ll prove it to you,” he said, his tone resolute.
• The promise hung between them, unspoken yet undeniable.
• For the first time, Elara felt a flicker of something she couldn’t quite name—something that made her chest tighten and her defenses waver.
• And she hated herself for wanting to believe him.
• Elara avoided Damien for the rest of the evening. His words replayed in her mind on an endless loop: You’re not just my fiancée—you’re my luna. And that makes you a target.
• The concept was so foreign, so utterly absurd, that her logical mind wanted to dismiss it outright. And yet, there was a part of her—a small, stubborn part—that whispered there might be truth in his conviction.
• Sleep evaded her again, the moonlight streaming through her window doing little to soothe her restless thoughts.
• The following morning, Elara awoke to a soft knock at her door. Groggy, she stumbled to answer it and found Maria standing there, as impeccably composed as ever.
• “Miss Carter, Mr. Blackthorn has requested your presence in the dining room,” Maria said, her tone professional but tinged with something warmer—concern, perhaps.
• Elara groaned inwardly. “Of course, he has.”
• She threw on a simple dress and made her way downstairs. As she entered the grand dining room, the sight before her caught her off guard. Damien sat at the head of the table, his gaze focused intently on a stack of documents. He looked different somehow—less like the dominant, commanding man she had come to expect and more... human.
• He glanced up as she entered, his expression unreadable.
• “Good morning,” he said, his tone surprisingly neutral.
• “Morning,” she replied cautiously, taking a seat across from him.
• The silence between them was heavy but not entirely uncomfortable.
• “I owe you an explanation,” Damien finally said, setting the papers aside.
• Elara blinked, startled by his uncharacteristic admission. “You... owe me?”
• “Yes,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been pushing you into this world without giving you a chance to understand it. That wasn’t fair.”
• She frowned, unsure of how to respond. “What changed?”
• His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to wrestle with his words. “Last night. I saw how overwhelmed you were. And I realized that if you’re going to survive this, you need to know what you’re up against.”
• Her stomach twisted at his choice of words. “Survive? Damien, you’re making it sound like I’m walking into a warzone.”
• “In a way, you are,” he said grimly. “The world I live in—it’s not just wealth and power. It’s alliances, rivalries, and betrayals. And now, you’re part of it.”
• Elara’s breath caught. “Why me? Why not find someone who understands this world?”
• His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability flashing across his features. “Because fate doesn’t work that way. It chose you, Elara. And so did I.”
• Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she quickly pushed the feeling aside.
• “So, what exactly am I supposed to do?” she asked, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Be the perfect little luna and smile for the cameras?”
• “Far from it,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I need you to be strong. To stand your ground, even when it feels impossible.”
• She stared at him, her frustration mingling with a reluctant sense of respect. “You make it sound so easy.”
• “It’s not,” he admitted. “But you’re stronger than you think. I can see it, even if you can’t.”
• The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and appearances. Elara found herself observing Damien more closely, trying to decipher the man behind the carefully constructed façade.
• By the time evening rolled around, she was emotionally and physically drained. Yet, Damien had one more surprise in store.
• As they returned to the mansion, he led her to a hidden door at the back of the library.
• “What’s this?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
• “You’ll see,” he said, pushing the door open to reveal a narrow staircase.
• They descended into what appeared to be a private gallery. The walls were lined with paintings, artifacts, and photographs, each piece carefully curated.
• “What is this place?” she asked, her voice filled with awe.
• “It’s my sanctuary,” Damien said, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “A reminder of where I’ve been and what I’ve built.”
• Elara’s eyes fell on a photograph of a young boy with piercing blue eyes. “Is that... you?”
• He nodded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “A long time ago.”
• She studied the photo, noting the boy’s solemn expression. “You look... lonely.”
• “I was,” he admitted. “But loneliness has a way of teaching you things.”
• She turned to face him, her own defenses lowering. “And now?”
• “Now, I have you,” he said simply.
• The weight of his words hung between them, and for the first time, Elara saw a glimpse of the man behind the alpha.
• And it terrified her. Because, despite everything, she was beginning to feel the pull of his world—and of him.