Chapter 114: Chapter 114

Natasha's POV

I watched Adnar through the doorway as he moved around the kitchen, trying to cook dinner while also checking his phone for pack updates. He looked exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes, his movements slower than normal, his shoulders tight with tension that wouldn't go away.

This was my fault. He was running himself into the ground taking care of me while also handling pack business. The guilt sat heavy in my chest, getting worse every time I had to call him for help with something simple.

"Need anything?" he asked, appearing in the doorway with a glass of water I hadn't asked for.

"I'm fine," I said. "You should rest."

"I'm fine too," he lied. The bond between us hummed with his exhaustion, making it impossible for him to hide how worn out he really was.

After he went back to the kitchen I pulled out my phone. This couldn't continue. Adnar needed help whether he'd admit it or not. I opened a browser and searched for housekeeping agencies in the area.

Several options came up but one looked more professional than the others. Elite Home Services. Their website showed testimonials from happy clients, photos of their staff looking competent and friendly, prices that seemed reasonable for what they offered.

I clicked through to their available staff profiles. Dozens of people with experience ranging from basic housekeeping to specialized care. One profile caught my attention immediately. A woman named Iris who listed recovery care as one of her specialties.

Her photo showed someone in her late twenties, professional looking with kind eyes. Her experience section was impressive. Five years in home care, certification in recovery assistance, glowing reviews from previous clients about how attentive she was.

Perfect. Exactly what we needed.

I clicked the button to request an interview, filling out the form with our address and my contact information. The agency's automated response said someone would call within an hour to schedule a time.

They called back in fifteen minutes.

"Mrs. Blackwood?" a cheerful voice asked. "This is Elite Home Services. We received your interview request for Iris. She's actually available today if you'd like to meet her."

"Today works," I said, checking the time. Just past two in the afternoon. "What time?"

"She can be there by four if that suits you," the woman said.

"Four is perfect," I confirmed.

After hanging up I felt relieved. Finally doing something productive instead of just lying here feeling guilty. Adnar would probably be annoyed I hired someone without consulting him first but he'd get over it once he saw how much easier things became.

I didn't tell him about the interview. He'd left to handle something at pack territory, saying he'd be back by dinner. That gave me time to meet Iris and make a decision before he returned.

At exactly four o'clock the doorbell rang. I struggled out of bed, moving slowly because of the wound still healing in my stomach. By the time I made it to the door I was breathing hard from the effort.

The woman standing on the porch matched her photo. Professional but approachable, wearing casual clothes that suggested she was ready to work immediately if needed.

"Mrs. Blackwood?" she asked with a warm smile. "I'm Iris from Elite Home Services."

"Natasha," I said, opening the door wider. "Come in."

She followed me inside, her eyes taking in the house with the practiced assessment of someone used to evaluating living spaces. I led her to the living room, gesturing for her to sit while I carefully lowered myself into the chair across from her.

"Your profile said you specialize in recovery care," I started.

"I do," Iris confirmed. "I've worked with clients recovering from surgery, accidents, illness. Whatever you need, I'm confident I can handle it."

"I was shot," I said bluntly. "About a week ago. Still healing, pregnant, need help with basic household tasks until I'm cleared by my doctor."

"Gunshot wounds require careful monitoring," Iris said, her expression serious. "Infection risk, pain management, making sure you don't overdo physical activity. I'm familiar with all of that."

"The pregnancy adds complications," I added.

"Four months along based on what I can see," Iris observed, glancing at my stomach. "Which means specific nutritional needs, avoiding certain activities, being extra cautious about any medications or treatments."

"Exactly," I said, impressed. "You seem to know what you're doing."

"I take my work seriously," Iris said. "Can I ask who else lives here? The agency mentioned a husband but didn't provide details."

"My husband Adnar," I said. "He's Alpha of the local pack so he's busy with pack business. That's why I need help, he's been trying to do everything himself and it's too much."

Something flickered across Iris's face when I said Adnar's name. Recognition maybe or surprise. It was gone before I could identify it clearly.

"Have we met before?" I asked, the feeling nagging at me. She looked familiar in a way I couldn't place.

"I don't think so," Iris said smoothly. "I just have one of those faces people think they recognize."

"Maybe," I said, still not convinced but letting it drop.

We talked for another twenty minutes about duties, schedule, pay. Iris answered every question perfectly, showing knowledge about recovery care that the other candidates I'd heard about clearly lacked. By the end of the conversation I was certain she was exactly what we needed.

"When can you start?" I asked.

"Immediately if you'd like," Iris offered. "I have time today, I can help you with dinner prep, light cleaning, whatever you need."

"That would be amazing," I said, relief flooding through me.

Iris stood up, already moving toward the kitchen. "Show me where everything is and I'll get started."

I walked her through the kitchen, pointing out where we kept groceries, cooking supplies, cleaning products. She absorbed everything quickly, asking smart questions about dietary restrictions and preferences.

"Your husband, does he have any food allergies?" she asked while examining the contents of our refrigerator.

"No allergies," I said. "He'll eat pretty much anything."

"Good to know," Iris said. She started pulling out ingredients, her movements efficient while she planned what to cook.

I left her to it, going back to rest in the guest room. Through the doorway I could hear her working, the sounds of cooking that had been absent since I got shot. Adnar had been trying but his cooking skills were limited. Having someone who actually knew what they were doing felt like a luxury.

An hour later Iris appeared in the doorway. "Dinner's in the oven, should be ready in thirty minutes. I also did some light tidying in the kitchen and living room. Is there anything else you need?"

"This has been incredibly helpful," I said honestly. "Thank you."

"It's what I'm here for," Iris said. "Actually, I wanted to ask something. My current living situation is temporary, I'm between apartments right now. Any chance you'd consider live in help? I know that's a bigger commitment but it would mean I'm available whenever you need assistance instead of just during scheduled hours."

Live in help. That would solve so many problems. Someone here all the time to help with meals, cleaning, making sure I didn't overdo things. Adnar wouldn't have to worry about leaving me alone when pack business called.

"That actually sounds perfect," I said. "We have a spare bedroom upstairs you can use."

"Really?" Iris looked surprised. "You're sure? I know that's a big decision."

"I'm sure," I said. "When can you move in?"

"Tonight if that works," Iris said. "I don't have much, just a few bags worth of belongings."

"Tonight works," I confirmed.

Iris left to get her things, promising to return within a few hours. I lay back in bed feeling accomplished. Problem solved, help hired, Adnar would finally get some relief from trying to do everything himself.

My phone buzzed with a text from Adnar saying he'd be home by eight. Perfect timing. Iris would be moved in by then, dinner would be ready, everything handled without him having to lift a finger.

Iris returned at seven carrying two large duffel bags. I showed her to the spare bedroom upstairs, apologizing that I couldn't help her carry things.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "This is why you hired me, so you don't have to do this kind of stuff."

She disappeared upstairs while I went back to rest. The smell of dinner filled the house, something with garlic and herbs that made my stomach growl with hunger. Iris had impressed me in every way. Professional, competent, understanding about my limitations without being condescending.

Adnar arrived home just after eight, looking tired when he walked through the door. He stopped in the entryway, his nose lifting slightly like he was scenting something unfamiliar.

"Who's here?" he asked immediately.

"Come sit down," I said from the guest room. "I'll explain."

He joined me, his expression wary while settling into the chair beside my bed. "Natasha, what did you do?"

"I hired help," I said. "You've been running yourself into the ground taking care of me and the pack. I found someone through an agency, she's qualified in recovery care, she's already been amazing."

"You hired someone without telling me?" Adnar asked, his voice getting that edge it got when he was trying not to be mad.

"She's perfect," I insisted. "Her name is Iris, she's got years of experience, she already made dinner and cleaned the kitchen. Plus I offered her the spare bedroom so she can be here full time."

"You offered her what?" Adnar's voice rose slightly.

"The spare bedroom," I repeated. "Live in help means someone's always here when we need them."

"Natasha," Adnar started but footsteps on the stairs cut him off.

Iris appeared in the doorway, still wearing the professional clothes from earlier. "I heard voices, thought I'd introduce myself properly. You must be Adnar."

She extended her hand toward him. Adnar stared at her, his whole body going rigid. Through the bond I felt something spike, shock mixed with anger mixed with something I couldn't identify

"Iris," he said slowly, not taking her hand.

"It's been a long time," Iris said, lowering her hand after the awkward moment stretched too long. "I wasn't sure you'd recognize me."

"I recognize you," Adnar said, his voice flat.

I looked between them, confusion replacing my earlier satisfaction. "You two know each other?"

"We used to," Iris said before Adnar could respond. "A long time ago."

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut. Adnar's jaw was tight, his hands clenched into fists, every line of his body screaming discomfort. Through the bond I felt his emotions churning, too mixed up to separate into individual feelings

"Maybe I should give you two some privacy," Iris said. "Dinner's ready whenever you want it. I'll be upstairs."

She left, her footsteps retreating up the stairs. The moment she was gone Adnar turned to me, his expression somewhere between angry and exhausted.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Clearly," I agreed. "Who is she?"

"Someone from my past," Adnar said carefully. "Someone I never expected to see again."

"What kind of someone?" I pressed.

He was quiet for a long moment, clearly debating how much to tell me. "An ex," he finally admitted.

The words hit like a physical blow. An ex. I'd just hired Adnar's ex to live in our house, to help take care of me, to be around constantly while I recovered. The guilt from earlier came rushing back doubled.

"I didn't know," I said quickly. "She didn't tell me, I didn't recognize her. If I'd known I never would have—"

"I know," Adnar cut in. "This isn't your fault. You were trying to help."

"So we fire her," I said. "Tell her it's not working out, find someone else."

"It's not that simple," Adnar said. "She's already moved in, you already committed to hiring her. Breaking that agreement now looks suspicious."

"I don't care how it looks," I said. "I'm not keeping your ex in our house."

"Neither am I thrilled about it," Adnar said. "But we need to think this through before making decisions."

We argued for another ten minutes, me insisting we fire Iris immediately while Adnar tried being rational about contracts and obligations. Eventually exhaustion won out over anger, both of us too tired to keep fighting.

"We'll figure it out tomorrow," Adnar said finally. "Right now let's just eat dinner and go to bed."

"You're okay with her being here tonight?" I asked.

"No," he admitted. "But I'm also not okay with you struggling because you feel guilty about needing help. If Iris can actually do the job, if she makes your recovery easier, then maybe we can make this work temporarily."

"Temporarily," I repeated. "Just until I'm healed enough to not need constant help."

"Exactly," Adnar agreed.

We made our way to the kitchen where Iris had left dinner warming in the oven. Chicken with roasted vegetables and rice, perfectly cooked and seasoned. We ate in silence, both of us too aware of the woman upstairs who'd once been important to Adnar in ways I didn't want to think about.

After dinner Adnar helped me back to the guest room, both of us settling into bed without talking. The house was quiet, Iris apparently staying in her room upstairs. Through the bond I felt Adnar's continued discomfort, his uncertainty about this situation mixing with exhaustion.

"I should have checked with you first," I said quietly. "Before hiring anyone, especially before offering her the spare room. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Adnar said, though the bond told me it wasn't fine at all. "You were trying to help, I understand that. We'll make it work."

"You're not mad?" I asked.

"I'm not happy about it," he admitted. "But I'm not mad at you. You didn't know."

"What if I had known?" I asked. "Would you have told me not to hire her?"

"Yes," he said immediately.

"Why?" I pressed. "If she's qualified, if she can help, why does it matter that you dated?"

"Because having an ex living in our house while you're vulnerable is asking for complications," Adnar said. "Trust me, this is going to cause problems."

"What kind of problems?" I asked.

He was quiet for a moment. "I don't know yet," he finally said. "But I can feel it coming."

We lay there in the dark, both of us trying to sleep while very aware of the stranger upstairs who wasn't actually a stranger. Eventually exhaustion pulled me under, dreams mixing with worry about what morning would bring.

I woke up around three in the morning needing the bathroom. Moving carefully so I didn't wake Adnar, I got out of bed and made my way down the hall. The house was dark, quiet, everyone asleep.

Except when I came out of the bathroom I saw light coming from under the door to Adnar's office. Someone was awake, moving around in there, going through things they had no business touching.

I moved closer, pressing my ear against the door. Papers rustling. Drawers opening then closing. The sound of someone searching for something.

My hand reached for the doorknob. Before I could turn it, before I could confront whoever was in there, a hand landed on my shoulder from behind.

"Looking for something?" Iris asked softly.

I spun around, wincing when the movement pulled at my wound. Iris stood in the hallway wearing pajamas, her expression unreadable in the dim light.

"I heard a noise," I said. "Someone's in Adnar's office."

"That was me," Iris admitted. "I couldn't sleep, thought I'd familiarize myself with the house layout. I must have gotten turned around."

"His office is clearly marked," I pointed out.

"Is it?" Iris looked at the door like she was surprised. "I didn't notice. Sorry if I disturbed you."

She walked past me toward the stairs, her footsteps quiet on the carpet. I stood there watching her go, every instinct screaming that something was wrong. The office door was still closed, the light inside now off.

What had she been looking for?