Coming Back as Enemy's Luna

42. OWN

= Mikael =

“Ah—of course. I won’t push the matter if A-Alpha Mikael doesn’t approve,” one of the vendors said quickly, his words tripping over themselves as realization set in. He lowered his head at once. “My apologies. I overstepped the boundaries.”

Silence settled in the space that followed.

My gaze shifted to Amara.

She wasn’t looking at the vendor or the girl. She was looking at me. There was something in her expression that caught me off guard—hope, bright and unguarded, and a kind of restrained excitement she hadn’t bothered to hide when the young girl got excited to know that she was allowed to work for her. It was rare to see that softness in her, rarer still to see her ask for something without speaking.

Her eyes searched mine, quietly asking permission for the sudden change in course.

And for reasons I didn’t fully care to examine, I found myself unwilling to take that hope away from her.

I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. The vendor stiffened immediately, shoulders tense, head bowed even lower. The girl mirrored the gesture, her posture folding in on itself as if she feared being seen.

I stopped beside Amara. She shifted subtly, following my movement, standing just close enough that I could feel her presence without looking at her.

My attention returned to the girl.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

At the sound of my voice, she hesitated before lifting her head. When her eyes met mine, I saw it all at once—fear, respect, and a wary caution learned far too early. She stood perfectly still, as though one wrong word might cost her everything.

“I–I’m C-Caryl, Alpha Mikael,” she stammered, the nerves clear in her voice. Yet beneath the tremor was something steadier—resolve, sharp and unyielding.

“Caryl,” I repeated, deliberately slow.

At the sound of her name, her spine went rigid, as if the word itself had snapped her fully to attention. Good. She understood the weight of being seen.

“Can you promise me this,” I continued, my tone calm but measured, “that you will serve my future Luna with loyalty? That you will protect her, stand by her side, and never—under any circumstance—betray her or place her in harm’s way?”

Her breath caught.

Her eyes widened, not with fear, but with something brighter. Awe. Purpose. Conviction so raw it nearly startled me.

“Of course, Alpha!” she said, the words bursting from her chest as if she had been waiting to say them her entire life.

A smirk tugged at my lips before I could stop it.

I turned my gaze to Amara.

She was staring at me, disbelief written plainly across her face, brows drawn together as though she couldn’t understand why I had subjected her newly assigned personal subordinate to such scrutiny. As if the questions were excessive. Unnecessary.

They weren’t.

Caryl needed to hear them.

And Amara needed to see them asked.

Because when I decided to let her have her people, no one had chosen her.

I had already planned to give Amara her own personnel—people sworn directly to her, loyal not because of rank alone, but because she was my Luna. I’d instructed Lorne a few days ago to find candidates. Capable ones. Willing ones.

But no one stepped forward.

No one wanted to work for her. No one wanted to be associated with her name, her position, her shadow.

So seeing someone stand here now—nervous, trembling, but still brave enough to claim her place—meant more than Amara would ever know.

It was… reassuring.

Good, even.

That someone, at last, had chosen to stand beside her.

And if Caryl was willing to play that role, then I would make sure the world understood just how serious that role truly was.

“Are you s-sure?” Amara asked, her voice faltering just slightly, like she was bracing herself for a no she didn’t want to hear.

I tilted my head, a slow smile tugging at my mouth as I raised a brow. “Why?” I teased lightly. “You don’t want her?”

Her reaction was immediate. She shook her head, almost too quickly, dark hair swaying with the movement.

“No—of course I do. I want her,” she said, then corrected herself, straighter now. “I want her to be my subordinate.”

That earned a soft huff of amusement from me.

“It’s fine,” I said, my tone turning more serious. Honest. “Actually, I think it’s time you started having your own trusted people here. People who answer to you.”

The words seemed to settle heavily in her chest. She swallowed hard, fingers curling slightly at her sides before she nodded—slow, deliberate, as if accepting something larger than the moment itself.

Then she looked up at me.

And smiled.

Not the polite kind. Not the careful one she used out of habit. This one was genuine, unguarded—warm enough that it caught me completely off balance. I blinked, caught in that expression longer than I meant to be, my mind going oddly still as if everything else had faded out.

“Thank you, Mikael,” she said softly.

There was warmth in her voice. Real warmth. And she was still smiling.

Damn it.

Something tugged sharply in my chest, sudden and unfamiliar, and for a brief second, I hated how much I felt it.