Chapter 4 Great at Pack Relations, Not So Public

Stephanie's POV

I slowed my pace deliberately, letting every word of the hushed voices behind me reach my ears.

Bennett's attempt to rein in Clara had clearly failed. The sharp, venom-laced rhythm of her heels faded down the corridor.

A cold smile tugged at my lips.

Isabelle and I found a bench in the small garden of the recovery wing. She did not stay long—her phone buzzed with an urgent Pack matter, pulling her a few steps away.

Alone, I wandered toward the fountain at the garden's center. The water was still and clear, reflecting a face I barely recognized as my own.

And, just as I expected, Bennett was already there.

He stood with his back straight, shoulders tense, his expression stripped of the calm mask he had worn in the old Alpha's room.

"Where did you hear about my former Mate?" His gaze was sharp enough to cut, as if he could strip away every layer of my thoughts.

I stopped a few feet away, arranging just the right shade of confusion across my face. "Mr. Lightwood, I am not sure what you mean. Oh... you mean that..."

I tilted my head as though searching my memory. "I overheard some Pack members talking about your previous Luna."

I gave a small shrug. "Gossip travels fast in a Pack, doesn't it? They say she died... horribly."

Bennett's eyes narrowed, the way a predator reacts when someone steps too close to its wound. He searched my face for a crack in my composure, but I met him with nothing but clear, innocent eyes.

He took a step forward, closing the distance until there was barely an arm's length between us. His height cast me into shadow, the weight of his Alpha presence pressing down like a storm front.

"Stephanie," he said, voice low, "do you really remember nothing?"

I tipped my chin up to meet his gaze, the angle forcing the line of my throat into view.

His eyes lingered there, Adam's apple shifting.

"Should I?" I asked, blinking up at him, my tone light, almost guileless—before I stepped back half a pace.

The stone balustrade caught me. No more room to retreat.

Something flickered in Bennett's eyes—awareness of how close we stood, perhaps, or something darker. He lifted a hand, his fingers brushing the curve of my cheek.

"You never used to speak to me like this," he murmured, thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "You would blush. You would get so nervous you could barely breathe."

The heat of his touch seeped into my skin, and my body's instinctive reaction warred with the cold calculations in my mind. This body remembered him, even if I did not.

I had planned to resist, but a sudden thought struck me—too much change would be suspicious. So I forced myself to stay still, tilting my head just slightly so his palm fit more fully against my cheek. A small concession to the role I was playing.

"Maybe it is the silver poison," I said, letting a faint hitch into my breath. "I feel... different now."

Something in his eyes shifted at that, deepening into a darker shade.

His other hand came to rest on the stone behind me, caging me in completely.

"How different?" His voice was a low rasp, warm breath brushing my ear.

My breathing quickened, my chest rising just enough to draw his gaze downward.

"I..." I let the words trail off, biting my lower lip. "I do not think I am as shy as I used to be."

As I spoke, I lifted a hand to his suit jacket, fingertips grazing over the solid line of muscle beneath.

Bennett's body went still for a heartbeat, his breath heavier now.

He looked down at me, eyes lit with a dangerous fire. "Stephanie... do you know what you are doing?"

A spark of mischief flared in my gaze, though inside I wanted to laugh at the absurdity. "I do not know. I just know my heart beats faster when you are close."

His lips pressed into a hard line, as if holding back words—or something else entirely.

Before he could speak, Clara appeared, her hurried steps halting when she saw us. Her expression curdled instantly.

"Bennett, there is an urgent matter with the Pack." She paused, then added with false sweetness, "Sorry to interrupt your... conversation with Stephanie."

Bennett lowered his hand but did not step back, still bracketing me with his presence.

I smiled, flawless. "It is fine, Clara. Actually, I think I have heard your name in some of those little rumors too."

Clara's smile froze. "Is that so? And what exactly did you hear?"

"I am not sure," I said lightly, as if discussing the weather. "Just that back when Mr. Lightwood's former Luna was still alive, you were already a frequent visitor at Blackwood Pack headquarters. And that when people looked at her, they always seemed... hesitant to speak."

I held her gaze, each word sharp and deliberate. "Was it out of respect for the Luna? Or... was it because of you?"

Clara's breathing turned ragged, lips trembling as she glanced at Bennett like a drowning woman seeking rescue.

His expression darkened, clearly displeased at having private matters dragged into the open.

At last, he stepped back, breaking the cage between us.

"That is enough, Clara," he said, irritation threading his voice. "What is the urgent matter?"

She blinked, as if remembering why she had come. "It is about the Crimson Moon Pack. Negative rumors are spreading between Packs, and they are... not in our favor."

Bennett's frown deepened. "You are the PR manager. You should be bringing me solutions, not problems."

Her face twisted for a moment, knuckles whitening around the folder in her hands.

I remembered then—Clara had only gotten that position because Bennett had vouched for her, for Sophia's sake. No wonder the Pack had always looked at me with that unspoken pity. They must have known.

The realization was bitter enough to make me laugh out loud.

Clara's head snapped toward me, eyes full of venom. "What is so funny, Stephanie?"

I smoothed my expression. "Nothing. I was just thinking... Miss Johnson's PR skills might not work so well outside the Pack, but internally? Very effective."

"You—" she started, but Bennett's voice cut through like ice.

"Enough." He did not even look at her. "Go deal with the rumors. I want results, not excuses."

Clara froze, swallowing whatever she had been about to say. She shot me one last poisonous glare before turning on her heel and stalking away.