Working
Xander POV
The main pack house looms ahead, it’s dark timber bones and wide stone steps greet me, they are as familiar to me as the blood in my veins. Walking with purpose, my boots hit the ground in firm, unhurried strides. The pain in my chest flickers again, a dull throb that settles low behind my ribs before once again fading like it was never there.
I grind my jaw at the sensation but continue to walk; it doesn’t matter, and whatever the hell it is, I’ll deal with it later.
As I step inside the main pack house, the scent of the midday meal cooking is thick in the air. The scent is laced with herbs and roasted meat. A few pack members murmur greetings as they pass, but they don’t linger, knowing it’s not allowed. I don’t stop until I reach the war room. I push the door open and step inside at the space I’ve ruled for many years now. The room is cold despite the fire that is burning, the air in the room is heavy the scent of maps, ink and old paper is thick. There’s a long oak table that dominates the center of the room. It’s layered with current patrol charts and letters that are sealed still from the southern borders. I set my hands on the nearest scroll, unfurling it halfway before I hear the door open.
Killian steps inside. He’s my second in command. Older than me by nearly a decade, with a broad chest, but calm in ways I never learned to be. I watch as he closes the door behind him, then comes to stand across the table, his eyes narrowing just slightly.
“Well?” He asks, his arms folding ass he leans against the edge of the table with one hip. “Did she tell you anything worth hearing yet?”
I don’t answer instantly, I roll the map open the rest of the way and scan the marked location of our northern allies. Two of them still haven’t responded to our request for neutral ground.
“She’s clever,” I say finally. “Too clever, it’s like every word she speaks sounds like something meant to distract from the truth.”
Killian nods slowly. “So you think that she’s lying then?”
“I think she’s practiced,” I reply. “Which is far worse. She isn’t tripping up or contradicting herself yet. She’s managed to give me a story that is clean enough to pass, but just ragged enough to look real.”
He stays quiet for a moment before shifting slightly. “Did she mention her father?”
My fingers instantly curl against the parchment. I keep my voice even as I speak. “She claims he essentially exiled her, not from the pack but from being seen. She claims that she was locked away, and kept ignorant of what he was doing. She even goes as far as blaming another woman for the things that we all know she did.”
Exhaling, Killian nods, there’s no amusement in his expression at all. “Sounds like the daughter of a tyrant to me.”
“She’s Jasmine,” I say without looking up this time. “I don’t care what name she tries to use, or who she tries to hide behind.
She’s Jasmine.”
Killian straightens, his tone becoming harsher. “And you still want her in the school? Teaching the children?”
“For now.” My voice is clipped. “She thinks she’s safe there. She’ll let something slip eventually, and then I will be told.”
“And if she doesn’t?” He tilts his head, watching me.
I meet his eyes with a sigh. “Then she’s better trained than I expected, but no one can play pretend forever.”
His gaze flickers, for just a second. “Do you think she knows what he did? What he took from you, from this pack?”
“No,” I murmur, my voice low. “She doesn’t, she won’t have been old enough.”
Killian doesn’t press anymore, and I don’t offer anything else. There’s no point in dragging that name into the open. Not here, not yet. At least, not until I know what Serafine really is, and why fate sent her into my territory with soft hands and a perfectly crafted lie.
“She’ll break eventually,” Killian says, like a vow. “They all do.”
I nod once. “I’m counting on it.”
Killian nods and leaves the room without another word. He knows when I want space, and he knows when pushing me only earn silence. That is the difference between a good second in command and a dead one. I’m not someone who rewards loyalty with softness, but I do respect strength when it comes without ego. He earned his place beside me because he showed he knows when to stand back and when to sten forward.
2
The room quiets again now that he’s left, and I Successfully unlocked! ips. Patrol routes, borderlines, and potential allies that have yet to respond. Then there’s rogue sightings to cus
use to the mountain pass. That’s the issue. The northern crescent of our territory has always been fragile; it’s surrounded by packs that are too weak to defend themselves, but also too proud to submit. It’s something that will have to change as they bring more danger to my pack.
Standing here, I begin to mark updated routes for the enforcers. We will need to double the patrols for the next two weeks
1/2
Working
and shift the heavier units closer to the southern ridge. With The Moons Calling coming up, a lot of rogues will be looking for a place to sneak into to mate. There’s also the worry that Serafine’s presence here will draw attention. Her father may not know where she is exactly, but if he’s still watching the northern packs as closely as he used to, it won’t take long for him to start sniffing around out of interest.
A low growl pulls from my throat before I can stop it. I don’t like that she’s here, I don’t like that there’s beginning to be signs of a bond. The pain in my chest, the one that started soon after she arrived, only grows sharper each time I walk away from her or disrespect her. The truth is, though my true mate was murdered, so Serafine can’t be my mate
Still, that feeling makes this harder. My plan is to use her, get what I can from her, then go for her father’s pack, but if this feeling continues to grow, then what? Will my wolf even let me harm her family? Will it let me use her as merely an object to get ahead in this war?
What would be easier is if she was cruel, if she stood in front of me with her teeth bared like her father did that day he murdered the one thing I had let myself want. Serafine doesn’t, though; she doesn’t meet me with defiance or venom. She meets me with patience, quietness and with control. Which, I think, is far worse.
Everything in my mind is saying, tear the truth from her. Lock her down, rip her open and drag out all the secrets into the light. I should shatter that mask that she clings to. I know, though, that’s playing my hand too soon, before I understand her enough. I’ll lose the only advantage I have. She doesn’t know what I know, and that’s my advantage.
Until she shows some truth, I will keep her close. Close enough to study her, close enough to catch the cracks when they finally open.
A knock sounds from the door, sharp and firm, and I glance over at it.
“Enter.”
The door slowly opens, and one of the younger runners steps in. He’s not shifted, but fast on his feet and sharp with names. He bows his head as he approaches.
“Alpha, Mauren asked me to bring this.”
He holds out the slip of parchment, it’s an update from the school. I take it and wave him out. He nods again and disappears.
Unfolding the note, I scan the words. Serafine sat through the full morning session. She said little, asked two questions about the children’s emotional control exercises. She observed keenly. There were no disruptions or unusual behaviour. Staring at the parchment for a long moment, I consider it. She’s watching, measuring and picking apart every rule and lesson, not for curiosity but for advantage. I know the type, the ones who learn not to be better, but to be more dangerous. If she thinks she can outplay me, then she doesn’t understand who she’s dealing with. I’m not her father, but I’m the one who has spent years learning about him, ready to hunt him. She’s not the first wolf who’s looked at me like I was just another wall to climb. She’ll be the last who thinks she can cross it without bleeding, however.
I crumple the parchment in my fist and walk to the hearth, before tossing it into the flame. Let her watch, let her believe that she’s being clever. I’m going to be waiting.
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