Chapter 3: The Luna's First Strike
Alistair didn't waste time. Within forty-eight hours of signing the 'Marriage & Luna Agreement',a document Sera had scrutinized, edited, and finally signed while still heavily bruised,her new reality was operational.
She was no longer Sera Hayes, the invisible PA with mountains of debt. She was Seraphina Thorne, the unexpected, inexplicable human Luna of the most powerful werewolf in the city.
The first step was her appearance. Alistair's personal stylist, a sharp-tongued witch named Vivienne who somehow managed to be terrified of Alistair yet condescending to Sera, had been brutally efficient. They had traded her sensible flats and charcoal raincoat for bespoke silk dresses and six-inch heels. Her chestnut brown hair was washed and styled, falling in heavy, glossy waves that accentuated her striking icy blue eyes. The transformation was less about beauty, and more about armament.
"You look like money, Sera," Vivienne had sniffed, adjusting a diamond necklace that felt impossibly heavy around Sera's throat. "Now try not to embarrass the Alpha."
"I intend to do the opposite," Sera murmured, looking at her reflection. She saw an elegant, formidable woman. The bruises were fading, but the cold, intelligent fire in her eyes was new.
The final piece was the location. Alistair had arranged a 'surprise' cocktail party,a quiet announcement of their marriage to his inner circle of business partners and, more importantly, to the city's predatory elite.
"Keep your distance," Alistair ordered, his golden eyes narrowed as he assessed her readiness. He was breathtaking in his tailored tuxedo, his platinum blonde hair a stark contrast to his dark suit. "Do not speak unless spoken to. And never, under any circumstances, leave my side. They will test you."
"Do they know I'm human?" Sera asked, the weight of the diamonds feeling like a collar.
"They know I married an outsider," he corrected, his hand brushing against the small of her back,a possessive, primal gesture that made her skin tingle despite the contract. "Let them speculate. Focus on the reason you're here."
* * *
The venue was the grand ballroom of The Obsidian Tower,the very building where Thorne & Co. was headquartered. The air was thick with the scents of luxury and the subtle, sharp musk of hidden supernatural beings.
Sera stood beside Alistair, a queen on display. Every eye, human and otherwise, was fixed on them. She felt the scrutiny, the disbelief, the blatant jealousy.
Then she saw them.
Mark Reynolds and Chloe Simmons. They were not mingling with the elite; they were standing awkwardly by the velvet rope, having somehow managed to talk their way into the outer lobby. Mark, perpetually trying to network his way into a better life, looked nervous but determined.
Alistair noticed the shift in her focus. His hand slid fully to her lower back, a signal of claim that was both distracting and strangely grounding.
"Your target practice has arrived," he rumbled softly, his mouth near her ear. "Go."
Sera didn't hesitate. She glided across the floor, the movement of her expensive dress commanding attention. Alistair watched, an expression of predatory interest on his face.
Mark spotted her first. His face went white, confusion warring with recognition. "Sera? What are you doing here? Did you,"
Sera cut him off before he could finish the sentence. She didn't raise her voice; she made the room come to her.
"Mark. Chloe." Her tone was cool, remote, perfectly refined. "I didn't realize they allowed… guests from the outer lobby in here."
Chloe recovered first, trying a nervous, familiar tactic. "Sera! Darling, we've been worried sick! I heard about the accident,we should talk. This man," She gestured vaguely at Alistair, who was now approaching slowly.
Sera laughed, a sound that was musical, cold, and utterly foreign even to her own ears. "This man is my husband, Chloe. And talking is no longer necessary. Not when I can simply act."
She turned slightly, meeting Mark's confused, greedy gaze. "Do you remember your pitch, Mark? Your future, the company you were so proud of? The one you were meeting 'investors' for the night you dumped the 'dead weight'?"
Mark nodded nervously, his eyes darting to Alistair, whose golden gaze felt like pure voltage.
"Alistair," Sera stated clearly, using her husband's first name as a weapon. "As part of my marriage settlement, I asked for a minor acquisition. Could you please confirm for Mark the status of his little tech startup, Velocity Dreams?"
Alistair stopped right beside her, his presence utterly eclipsing Mark. He didn't look at Mark, only at Sera, his gaze filled with dark amusement. He spoke with the quiet authority of a king.
"Velocity Dreams?" Alistair repeated, making the name sound cheap and insignificant. "Oh, that was finalized this morning, Seraphina. It's now a wholly-owned subsidiary of Thorne & Co. under your private control. You own 100% of the intellectual property, the assets, and the debt."
He finally directed a glance at Mark,a look of sheer dismissal that stripped the man of his dignity. "You no longer have a future to fund, Reynolds. You have three hours to clear your desk. Your services are no longer required by the Thorne conglomerate."
Mark gaped, his face crumpling. "You bought my company? You bought me out?!"
"Correction," Sera interjected, stepping closer to Mark. This was the moment. The full, public Face-Slapping. "I didn't buy you, Mark. I bought the debt you created. I bought the company to prove that your perceived ambition was entirely reliant on my money, my stability, and my invisibility. Enjoy the freedom of having no job and a crippling debt. And Chloe?" Sera turned to her ex-friend, her voice dropping to a silken whisper. "I hope your new arrangement with Mark provides the future you deserve."
Chloe's horrified shriek died in her throat.
Sera didn't wait for a reply. She took Alistair's arm.
"The introduction is complete, Husband," she murmured, a genuine, powerful surge of triumph coursing through her.
Alistair looked down at her, the golden light in his eyes flaring. The pride on his face was startlingly clear. "You exceeded expectations, Luna. Let's find you some champagne."
As they walked away, leaving Mark and Chloe utterly destroyed in their wake, the entire ballroom erupted in murmurs. Sera knew her performance had been flawless. She had asserted dominance. She had paid her debt of humiliation.
But the real complication wasn't the Pack, or Mark. It was the possessive squeeze of Alistair's hand on her arm, and the realization that his gold eyes hadn't left her face once.
END OF CHAPTER THREE.