Mated To My Mate's Worst Enemy Chapter 124

ARIA

Three days after my near-execution, I finally felt steady enough to leave my chambers for something other than brief, necessary excursions. The gifts had stopped coming, the apologetic pack members had found other things to occupy their attention, and I'd spent enough time in isolated reflection to at least pretend I was processing everything in a healthy way.

Nina had requested a meeting—something about reviewing security protocols and discussing my role in pack safety measures going forward. It seemed like an odd topic given recent events, but I was in no position to refuse. If anything, meeting with the security chief might be a good first step in actually contributing something meaningful to the pack.

I made my way to Nina's office in the late afternoon, when the administrative wing was relatively quiet. The corridors felt different now—less hostile, maybe, but not exactly welcoming either. Pack members who passed me nodded respectfully, but there was still that careful distance. That uncertainty about how to interact with a Luna they'd been ready to watch die just days ago.

Nina's door was open when I arrived, and I could hear her voice inside, speaking with someone in low, professional tones. I knocked softly on the doorframe.

"Luna Aria," Nina said, looking up from her desk. "Come in. We were just finishing up."

The "we" turned out to be Marcus, her second-in-command. He nodded to me respectfully as he gathered his papers and left, closing the door behind him.

"Please, sit," Nina gestured to the chair across from her desk. "I wanted to discuss several matters with you. First, your daily check-ins are no longer required. You've been fully cleared of suspicion, and continuing to monitor you would be inappropriate."

"Thank you," I said, though the relief I should have felt was muted by everything else.

"Second," Nina continued, "I need to apologize. Not just for doubting you—though I am sorry for that—but for how the entire investigation was handled. The procedures we followed, or failed to follow, were inadequate. And as security chief, that responsibility falls on me."

"You were following the evidence," I said carefully. "Or what appeared to be evidence."

"Evidence that should have been scrutinized more thoroughly before allowing things to progress as far as they did," Nina corrected. "Luna Aria, I should have insisted on more concrete proof before permitting you to be treated as a suspect. Should have pushed back harder against the rush to judgment. Should have protected you better."

The apology was unexpected, and more genuine than most of the others I'd received. Nina wasn't just going through the motions—she actually seemed troubled by how events had unfolded.

"What about Ivory's investigation?" I asked. "Did you know about it?"

"No," Nina said firmly. "Healer Ivory conducted that entirely on her own, with only Margo's assistance. Which, looking back, was probably wise. The fewer people who knew about the trap, the more authentic everyone's reactions would be."

"Including mine," I said quietly.

"Including yours," Nina confirmed, and I heard genuine regret in her voice. "I know that what you experienced on that platform—the terror, the betrayal, the certainty that you were about to die—I know that wasn't fair. But Luna Aria, I need you to understand something about how this pack operates."

She paused, seeming to choose her words carefully.

"Ivory's word carries weight that goes beyond normal pack dynamics," Nina continued. "When she speaks with certainty about something, people listen. Not because of her rank—she has none, technically—but because she's spent fifteen years proving that her word is reliable. That she doesn't lie, doesn't manipulate, doesn't abuse the trust people place in her."

"I know," I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "Everyone's been very clear about that."

"What I'm saying," Nina pressed, "is that you have the opportunity to build that same foundation. Not the same relationship with Alpha Kael—that's unique to their history. But the same credibility through consistent service and proven integrity. If you're willing to do the work."

"Everyone keeps saying that," I said. "Do the work. Earn trust. Prove myself. But no one's actually explained how. What specifically am I supposed to do?"

Nina considered this, then pulled out a folder from her desk drawer.

"I've been thinking about this," she said. "About how to help you integrate more effectively. And I have some suggestions, if you're willing to hear them."

"I'm listening."

"First, stop trying to compete with Ivory," Nina said bluntly. "Stop comparing yourself to her, stop measuring your contributions against hers, stop seeing her as your rival. She's not competing with you—never has been. And the more you frame things as Luna versus Healer, the more you position yourself in opposition to someone the pack loves."

The observation stung because it was accurate. I had been viewing Ivory as competition, measuring myself against her constantly and finding myself lacking every single time.

"Second," Nina continued, "find your own way to serve. Ivory contributes through healing and research. You're not a healer, so don't try to replicate her approach. Figure out what you're actually good at, what skills you have that the pack needs, and develop those. Make yourself valuable in your own way."

"I don't know what I'm good at," I admitted quietly.

"Then we'll figure it out together," Nina said. "Third, be consistent. Show up every day. Do the work even when it's boring or thankless. Prove through sustained action that you're committed to this pack, not just to your position as Luna."

"How long will that take?" I asked. "Before people actually trust me?"

"Months," Nina said honestly. "Maybe years. Trust isn't built quickly, especially when you're starting from a deficit. But Luna Aria, you're young. You have time. And if you actually do the work—if you serve consistently and prove your integrity over and over—eventually people will start to believe in you."

I wanted to argue that it wasn't fair, that I shouldn't have to work so much harder than others, that being Luna should count for something. But I swallowed those complaints because Nina was right. Rank didn't automatically grant credibility. I had to earn it the same way everyone else did.

"I'll try," I said finally. "I'll do the work."