Her Work
Her Work
Xander POV
Serafine follows me, staying quiet, her body is rigid, and she keeps her steps light and hesitant. I don’t turn back to look at her often, because I don’t need to. Her eyes are almost burning through me, and I feel like she would be glaring if she could get away with it. I know she’s no doubt waiting and wondering what is coming next. She likely thinks that I’m giving her a second chance, and that letting her teach the children means I’ve accepted parts of her story.
That’s a big mistake for her to make. Letting her guard down will be the second mistake she makes. When she does, though, I’ll be ready.
Everything that she said back there, every word, felt almost rehearsed. She looked slightly shocked when I mentioned her traveling, but not enough to say she wasn’t the one traveling from pack to pack. The pause in her breath before she spoke, the slight flicker in her expression when I pushed, they were signs that don’t go unnoticed by me.
I’ve seen wolves bluff their way through blood and fire, and I’ve watched those who cry on command, the seasoned warriors just to avoid the blade. Whatever training Serafine has had, it’s elite. She really does play the part well, almost too well.
She said she wasn’t trained, that she never left her pack. That it was all this, Jasmine person. It’s convenient. She’s creating a shadow of herself to blame it on, and she’s done it without enough finesse that someone softer may have actually believed her. But not me. She’s Jasmine. Her alter–ego, no doubt.
I’ve heard the stories, and when I’ve been to packs, many of the leaders praised her. Her name came up far too often for it to be this ‘Jasmine‘ that she created. It’s not another woman’s name, it’s Serafine. I’ve heard how charming she was, how effortlessly she handled alliances. People spoke about how skilled she was at speaking on behalf of her father. I remember that one Alpha telling me that she would look into your eyes in a way that made you want to believe everything she said, even if you knew it was lies.
That’s exactly what she’s doing now.
The problem she has is that she’s not prepared for the fact that I don’t care about how convincing she can be. I don’t need to catch her in a lie to figure her out, I already know it’s a lie. I can feel it.
She sees me as brutal because I take what I want, she thinks I’m cruel because I don’t soften when someone pretends to cry or be broken. The truth is far simpler, I don’t allow myself to be played. That’s not cruelty, that’s survival in our world. I lead her around the back of the pack house, through the gravel path that opens towards the larger building that’s for schooling. It’s modest from the outside, the structure is simple stone, and it’s tucked away in the fields. There’s an outer training ground, but it’s well–maintained and quiet. The kids here are taught by Betas, Omegas and a few volunteers who rotate based on their skills. It’s where the youngest are taught about the history of our kind. It’s where they learn the structure of a pack, how to control their wolves when the shift comes and such.
Stopping just before the door, I turn and face her. She still hasn’t spoken a word. Her hands are clasped tightly in front of her. She has that look again, the same one she wore last night before she removed her clothes. Not fear, not defiance, something colder, something calculated.
Good, I would rather face a clever woman than a weeping one, at least then I know what game they are trying to play. “Today you will observe only,” I tell her, ensuring my voice is clipped and direct. “You’ll learn what the children are taught here, and how the classroom is managed. You will begin helping tomorrow, and I expect you to be able to take the lead within a week.”
She nods once, her lips parting as if she wants to say something, but I keep speaking.
“If at any point you lie to them as you have me, I’ll hear about it. If you fill their heads with stories or teach them something from your father’s twisted ideology, I’ll have you removed before the day even ends.”
Swallowing hard, she gathers her thoughts. To her credit, she didn’t flinch at my threat. “I wouldn’t do that.”
I let the silence settle between us, letting her feel the tension that her words have caused. “You would. You just haven’t decided how yet.”
She tightens her lips suddenly but says nothing. It’s better that way.
Pushing the door open, I step inside, and the low murmur of children quietens down when they see me walk in. A few older ones sit up straighter, their eyes wide with curiosity.
Some of the younger ones pause their coloring Successfully unlocked! . Their respect is earned, I made sure of that. Mauren, their teacher, who stands at the front, is a steady anu ai beta. one offers me a slight nod in greeting but doesn’t ask for an explanation. She knows who Serafine is and what it means that she’s standing beside me. Her eyes flicker to Serafine once, then back to me.
I gesture for Serafine to step forward. “This is Serafine. She’ll be observing your lesson today. Treat her with the same
Her Work
respect you’d show any elder. She will be working with you moving forward.”
The room stays quiet for a beat too long, before a few of the children offer murmured greetings. A boy in the back, who is more confident that others, lifts his chin with curiosity. “Is she your mate?” he asks, bold and direct.
Serafine stiffens, but doesn’t react beyond that or answer.
“No,” I say calmly, and pain jolts through me. Ignoring it, I focus on the children. “She belongs to this pack, like the rest of you. That is all.”
The answer is final in a way that ensures no one pushes further.
Stepping back, I give Serafine space to walk forward. She moves with care, her expression staying neutral, but I see the flicker of discomfort behind her eyes as she stands before the children.
She’s not as smooth as she thinks, not here, not now.
I turn and decide to leave, but as I step through the door, I glance back once. She is still standing there, at the front of the room, frozen like she doesn’t know what to do without being told.
That alone tells me everything I need to know. She’s not here to play along, to teach, to help, she’s here to observe. She’s here to gather whatever she can and wait for the moment when she can twist it in her favor and report back to her father. She’s looking for a weakness, for trust.
She won’t find it, I’ll make sure she doesn’t. As I step out of the building, the pain hits in my chest again, and I push it off. I‘ ve got work to do.
