Moonlight Betrayal-Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Astrid’s POV

The two days that followed our movie night were quiet. Not the heavy, oppressive quiet of loneliness I had grown so accustomed to, but a soft, peaceful silence filled with unspoken comfort. Kaeleen and I were now friends...I think. Not that we weren’t friends or cordial with each other before but this was like on a different level.

We fell into a simple rhythm. We’d have breakfast together, our conversation light and unforced, mostly centered around pack business and just getting to know each other. I was slowly learning more about him and he was doing the same with me.

We didn’t talk about the kiss. We didn’t talk about Leon. We didn’t talk about the heavy, complicated things that still lingered in the corners of our lives. We simply existed in the same space, and that felt like enough. It was everything.

I woke up on the third morning feeling a sense of calm wash over me. I stretched in the enormous, comfortable bed, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. There was no dread in my stomach, no immediate spike of anxiety. I was just... peaceful. I was still in my sleeping clothes, a simple pair of silk pajamas, my hair a tangled mess, and I was planning on enjoying a slow, lazy morning before I had to face the day.

My plans, however, were promptly derailed by a series of frantic, excited knocks on my bedroom door.

Before I could even call out, the door burst open and Lila, my assistant, practically vibrated into the room, a grin so wide on her face it looked like it might split her cheeks. Her usual cheerful energy was dialed up to an entirely new level. How she could be even more cheerful? I had no idea.

"Good morning, Luna!" she chirped, her voice several octaves higher than usual. "You have to come with me! Right now! I have something to show you!"

I blinked at her, still half-asleep, trying to process what was going on and why she was extremely chipper this morning. "Lila, good morning," I said, a slow, amused smile forming on my face. "What’s going on? I haven’t even showered yet."

"Doesn’t matter!" she said, waving her hand dismissively as if a shower was the most trivial concept in the world. "Trust me, once you see this, you will completely forget what a shower even is. You might never shower again! You’ll just want to stay there forever and ever!"

"Really?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

She paused, a bit unsure. "Maybe?"

I couldn’t help but laugh at her excitement. It was infectious. "Okay, okay," I said, swinging my legs out of bed. "What in the world has you this worked up? Did they finally approve a holiday for the pack guards?"

Shadow had complained about needing a break from Rebecca since he was officially her guard but I knew he enjoyed his job and he only said he needs a break any time Rebecca was in the same space with both of us.

"Better!" she declared, her eyes sparkling. She didn’t elaborate. Instead, she rushed over, grabbing me gently by the elbow with a surprising amount of strength. "No more questions. Come on!"

With a resigned laugh, I allowed her to pull me from my room and into the hallway. She led the way, her steps practically a skip, her energy pulling me along in her wake like a small boat caught in the current of a powerful river. We didn’t go down the main staircase. Instead, she led me down a corridor I hadn’t paid much attention to before, toward a part of the sprawling pack house that was unfamiliar to me.

"I didn’t even know this wing existed," I murmured, looking at the different portraits and decor that lined the walls.

The portraits lining the walls showed the history of the pack and the different leaders. How did I know? There was literally a tag next to each picture.

"Most people don’t use it," Lila explained breathlessly. "It was mostly for storage. But Alpha Kaeleen... he had an idea."

She led me to a spiral staircase I’d never seen, one that led down. My brow furrowed. "The basement?" I asked. Basements in my experience were dark, damp, and filled with spiders. It didn’t seem like a place for a wonderful surprise.

"Just you wait," was all she said.

We descended the stairs, but instead of the musty darkness I expected, the space opened up into a clean, well-lit hallway with polished concrete floors. At the very end of the hall was a single, wide door made of glass. As we got closer, I could see that a brilliant, warm light was emanating from within. Lila stopped in front of it, her hand hovering over the handle, her grin somehow growing even wider. She looked at me, her excitement palpable.

"Are you ready?" she whispered.

I nodded, my own curiosity now at the highest level I could think of.

She pushed the door open, and I stepped inside.

My breath left my body in a single, silent gasp. Every thought, every word, every coherent idea I possessed simply evaporated, replaced by a feeling of such profound awe that it brought tears to my eyes.

It wasn’t a basement. It was a sanctuary.

The room was enormous, with incredibly high ceilings and pristine white walls. One entire wall was made of reinforced glass, looking out onto a beautifully excavated garden sunk below ground level, allowing natural, indirect sunlight to flood the entire space. The light was perfect, bright but soft, the kind artists dreamed of. The air smelled clean, a mixture of fresh paint, linseed oil, and the crisp, woody scent of new canvas.

It was an artist’s studio. A real, professional, breathtakingly perfect artist’s studio.

My gaze swept across the room, trying to take it all in. Standing like silent, patient sentinels were three large, sturdy H-frame easels, each holding a massive, gesso-primed canvas that was bigger than me. They were terrifying and exhilarating all at once, blank slates filled with infinite possibility. Against one wall was a long, wooden workbench, meticulously organized. There were neat rows of oil paints and acrylics, a rainbow of colors arranged in a spectrum that made my heart ache with its beauty.

There were jars filled with brushes of every conceivable size and shape, filberts, flats, rounds, tiny detail brushes. There were sets of charcoal sticks, soft pastels, and professional-grade graphite pencils. There were palette knives, bottles of turpentine and linseed oil, and stacks of fresh palettes waiting to be used. In a corner stood a deep, industrial sink for cleaning, and nearby, a comfortable-looking armchair was positioned perfectly to view the main easel.

It was everything. It was more than everything. It was a physical manifestation of a dream I had never even dared to have for myself.

And I knew, with a certainty that resonated deep in my soul, who had done this. The kindness, the thoughtfulness, the quiet understanding of it all, it had Kaeleen written all over it. He had listened. I had no idea he was going to do something like this. I had thought of going to meet Yvonne so we could both go and get a canvas but this...

"Fuck."

My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a sob. A wave of emotion, so powerful it threatened to buckle my knees, washed over me. Gratitude, shock, and a feeling of being so thoroughly cherished that it felt like my heart might burst. I automatically reached for my hip, my fingers searching for the phone that wasn’t there, my entire being desperate to call him, to thank him, to try and find the words for this impossible gift.

"Do you... do you like it?" Lila asked, her voice now soft and hesitant, as if she was afraid she had misjudged my reaction.

I turned to her, tears streaming freely down my face, but I was smiling, a wide, watery, joyful smile. "Like it?" I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. "Lila, it’s... it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Relief washed over her face, and she immediately launched back into her excited, rapid-fire chatter.

"Oh, I’m so glad! Alpha Kaeleen is going to be so happy! He’s been planning this for about two days. It was impromptu but who doesn’t love a good surprise. And I didn’t even know you were an artist until he said it. He wanted me to distract you and I know I did a good job. I also wanted to be the one to show you what he had done. He had a team of contractors come in overnight for the past two nights to get it all done. He was on the phone with Yvonne for hours, asking about the best brands of paint, the right kind of lighting, the specific weight of the canvas... He said it had to be perfect. He wanted you to have a space that was just yours, where you could create anything you wanted without anyone bothering you."

I laughed through my tears, listening to her story. It was so much better than I could have imagined. This wasn’t an impulsive gift; it was a carefully planned, deeply considered gesture. He had poured his time and effort into creating a haven for a part of me I had always kept hidden.

I slowly walked through the room, my bare feet cold on the smooth concrete floor. I ran my hand over the rough, textured surface of one of the giant canvases. It felt like a promise. I picked up a tube of paint cerulean blue and felt its weight in my palm. I touched the soft bristles of a brush, imagining it loaded with color. This was real. This was mine.

Just as I was trying to absorb the reality of it all, a cheerful voice echoed from the doorway.

"Well, don’t just stand there gawking. Art doesn’t make itself, you know."

I turned to see Yvonne leaning against the doorframe, a wide, knowing smile on her face. She was dressed in her usual paint-splattered work clothes, looking completely at home. And clinging to her leg, peeking out from behind her, was a small, curly-haired boy.

The moment he saw me, his face lit up.

"Lulu!" Christian shouted, his little voice echoing in the large room. He detached himself from his mother and ran toward me, his arms outstretched.

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