He Marked Another Luna, So She Slept With His Alpha Brother

Ch. He Marked Another Luna, So She Slept With His Alpha Brother 3 He Marked Another Luna, So She Slept With His Alpha Brother 3

Chapter 3

Camila’s POV Post

I parked at the end of the long driveway of Silver Lake Castle and killed the engine. The silence that followed was heavier than the night. Moonlight spilled across the gravelike spilled silver, catching on the turrets and the dark water of the lake beyond.

I sat there for a full minute with my hands still on the wheel, staring at the front doors as if they might open on their own and spare me the walk.

I wasn’t afraid of being scolded. Grandmother didn’t raise her voice-she never needed to. What I feared was her nose. The hardest She-Alpha on the continent to fool, and was carrying the scent of another Blackwell like a brand under my skin.

Eventually I forced myself out of the car. The night air was sharp with pine and cold stone. My boots crunch too loudly on the gravel as I climbed the steps and pushed open the heavy oak doors.

The hall was quiet. Warm light pooled from the dining room ahead. The moment I stepped across the threshold, the scent hit me-roasted venison glazed with blackberry, herbed potatoes, the soft sweetness of honey cakes still steaming. Every dish I have ever loved, laid

out as if the house itself had been waiting.

My shoulders dropped before I could stop them. Grandmother was already standing by the door. She didn’t speak. She simply opened her arms, and I walked into them the way I always have, burying my face against her shoulder for one stolen second of safety.

That was all it took.

I felt the exact moment her lungs expanded, the subtle shift of her body as she drew my scent in deep. Her arms tightened -not in affection, but in assessment. When she eased back, her eyes travelled from the crown of my head to the scuffed toes of my boots, slow and thorough, missing nothing. The silence stretched until it ached.

“Sit and eat first.” she finally said, voice calm as still water,

I blinked. “Grandmother-”

“You will sit. You will eat. And only then will you explain why you reek of a Blackwell who is not yours.” Her gaze didn’t soften, but something older and sharper glinted beneath it. “Unless, of course, you would rather I scent the truth for myself.”

The threat was quiet. Absolute. I pulled out the chair she had left empty for me, the wood still warm from the fire, and sat. The plate in front of me was piled high, steam curling upward like an offering. My stomach twisted with hunger and dread in equal measure.

Across the table, Grandmother lifted her own glass of dark wine and watched me over the rim, patient as a wolf who already knew the ending of the hunt.

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I stayed on high alert through the entire meal. Every bite of venison tasted like ash beneath the weight of her gaze. I chewed slowly, deliberately, as if the simple act of swallowing

night betray something more than hunger. Grandmother ate with the same unhurried grace she always had-silver spoon never scraping the china, posture perfect, eyes missing nothing.

She rose without a word, crossed to the sideboard, and ladled a rich, dark broth into porcelain bowl. The steam curled upward, fragrant with marrow and thyme. When she set it before me, her voice was almost casual. “At least this one has better taste than the last”

My hand stopped. I slowly looked up. Grandma’s expression hadn’t changed. But I understood exactly what she meant. I put my spoon down. “Grandma, about what happened

She lifted one hand. I stopped. Without saying anything, she reached for the tablet beside her plate and tapped the screen a few times.

Then she turned it toward me. A news report filled the screen.

JULIAN BLACKWELL MARKS VIVIENNE LAURENT IN PRIVATE CEREMONY. RAVENCREST

CELEBRATES HIS LUNA

My jaw tightened. There were photographs beneath the headline. Julian and Vivienne. Behind them was the Blackwell crest. I looked away. “So that’s why you called me home.”

“Yes.”Her answer was simple.

I looked back at her. “I assumed you already knew.”

“I know enough.”

Of course she did. News like this wouldn’t take long to reach someone like Amelia. Especially when it involved the Blackwell Alpha heir and the Whitmore heir’s former mate.

She picked up her spoon again. “I also know you rejected him.”

I said nothing. “And I know you left that ceremony with your pride intact.”

My lips parted. “Grandma-”

Grandmother relaxed in her seat, folding her hands. “I can guess what you’re planning, Camilla. Some quiet, elegant form of revenge. A reclaiming of pride. Perhaps even a dramatic reappearance at the worst possible moment for him.” Her voice remained mild. “But I would prefer you accept the loss gracefully. Remove the seal. Come home as the rightful heir. The family can find you an Alpha ten times better than Julian Blackwell ever

was.”

I set the spoon down with care. “I decline,” I said, polite and steady. “I will come back. But in my own way. And on my own timeline.”

Grandmother regarded me across the table for a long moment. The firelight caught the silver at her temples. When she spoke, her voice was quieter than I expected. “I will not

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demand you remove that bracelet,” she said. “Nor will I force a marriage contract in front of you like some provincial matchmaker. You are still my granddaughter. That has not changed.”

She paused, and the steel returned beneath the softer words.

“But neither will I pretend this is finished. You will not simply walk away and call it independence.”

I met her eyes and inclined my head once. “I understand.”

“Very well,” she said at last. “Then you will attend the group’s shareholders’ meeting next month. As the heir. Publicly. That will be the first installment of accepting your loss.” Her eyes held mine. “Do we understand each other?”

I inclined my head once. “We do.”

When the meal ended, she walked me to the doors herself. The night air rushed in, cold and clean, carrying the scent of the lake and the distant pines. She paused on the threshold, studying my face in the porch light.

“You’re thinner,” she observed. “And you’ve been sleeping poorly. Spend a few days at home, let me take care of you.” A beat. Then, softer, but no less deliberate: “And Camilla… do not fall for another Blackwell. That particular bloodline has already taken enough from this family.”

I managed a small, dismissive smile as I stepped into the dark.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Grandmother.” The heavy doors closed behind me with a low, final sound. I walked to the car without looking back, the bracelet cool against my wrist and the taste of her warning still sharp on my tongue.

I drove straight to the mall. If I was staying in Silver castle for a few days, I needed clothes, I needed a little air as well and anything that could keep me from thinking about Julian, Vivienne, or my grandmother’s request that I attend the shareholders meeting.

I had barely stepped into one of the stores when I heard my name.

“Camila?”

I stopped. My entire body went still. I knew that voice. Slowly, I turned.

Julian rushed over. His eyes moved over me. Then his expression changed. He sniffed and his nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed.

Before I could move, he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my arm. “What the hell is that?”

I jerked against his grip. “Let go of me.”

His gaze remained fixed on me. He leaned closer, his face tightening as he caught the scent again. “Why do you smell like him?”

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My heart slammed against my ribs. Julian’s grip tightened. “Why do you smell like Roman?”

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