Chapter 26

Elena

After changing into practical clothes—jeans, boots, and a sweater—I met Tiffany in the foyer. She was already waiting for me by the front door, tapping her heels and clicking her manicured nails against the hallway table.

“Where are we going first?” she asked.

“The kitchen gardens,” I replied as I headed toward the back of the house. “We need to harvest fresh vegetables for the nursing home.”

Tiffany stopped in her tracks. “The nursing home? Why would we do that?”

“To bring them fresh meals, of course. The elders deserve better than the bland cafeteria food they usually get.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “The pack provides adequate funding for their meals. There’s no need for us to personally deliver food like we’re some sort of… delivery service.”

Ah, there it was. Tiffany had held my position for years, but she’d never done anything like this. She’d always preferred to stay by Killian’s side, handling paperwork and attending meetings, keeping her hands clean and her reputation pristine. Very hands-off, very proper, and very useless to the actual pack members who needed help.

“Well,” I said with a sweet smile, “I suppose that’s the difference between us. You were content to do the bare minimum, while I actually care about being a real Luna.” I paused for effect, then added, “Although, I guess you were never the real Luna, so I wouldn’t blame you for shirking your duties.”

The missile seemed to hit its mark. Tiffany’s face flushed, her jaw clenching.

“Fine,” she bit out. “Let’s harvest vegetables. How hard could it be?”

Twenty minutes later, Tiffany was on her knees in the dirt, her perfect nails ruined as she yanked carrots from the ground. Sweat was beading on her forehead and making her foundation all pilled up despite the cool morning air, and there were dirt smudges on her expensive skirt.

I worked beside her, whistling as I filled basket after basket with fresh tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, and herbs. My own hands were filthy, but I didn’t care. This was honest work, the kind I’d grown up doing before I’d tried to become the perfect, delicate wife Killian wanted. It felt good to do it again, especially now that I was doing it because I wanted to and not because my stepmother forced me.

“This is ridiculous,” Tiffany muttered, struggling with a particularly stubborn carrot. “We have staff for this.”

“The staff have other duties,” I replied as I added another tomato to my basket. “Besides, the elders appreciate when we put in personal effort. Or didn’t you know that?”

She glared at me but kept working, refusing to be outdone. I bit back a little smirk of victory, knowing that the day had only just begun and I had a lot more of this in store for her.

Once we had enough vegetables, we headed to the kitchen to prepare the meals. I set Tiffany to work chopping vegetables while I seasoned the large pot of stew. She hardly seemed to know how to use a knife, clearly unaccustomed to kitchen work, but didn’t complain.

By the time we loaded the prepared meals into the car and drove to the nursing home, Tiffany was already looking a little winded. Her usually perfect hair was escaping from its severe bun, and she was limping slightly in her heels.

“Want some boots?” I asked, holding up one of my legs to show off the rubber rainboots I’d been wearing all morning. “I’ve got an extra pair in the trunk.”

Tiffany turned up her nose and looked away, and I shrugged as I took the baskets out of the car. “Suit yourself.”

The nursing home was a modest building on the edge of pack territory, housing about thirty elders who had no family left to care for them. We carried the containers of food inside, where the residents had already gathered in the dining hall.

We served the meals, Tiffany ladling soup into bowls while I made sure to chat with each resident, asking about their health, their families, their needs. Most were grateful for the attention, as they didn’t have many people to talk to.

And news of my efforts at the campaign banquet had spread even here, which made many of the elders curious and even a little grateful despite not having been there themselves.

Until we reached Mr. Falks.

He was ancient, probably pushing ninety, with cataracts and arthritis in his hands. He squinted up at me as I handed him his bowl, then frowned.

“Where’s Natalie?” he demanded. “Who’s this Luna imposter?”

The dining hall went quiet. I felt Tiffany’s snicker behind me, could practically feel her glee at my discomfort. My throat tightened, but I forced myself to remain calm.

“Mr. Falks,” I said gently, crouching beside his chair so we were at eye level. “Natalie passed away several years ago. I’m Elena, Killian’s mate and Luna.”

“Imposter,” he scoffed, looking away. “Natalie was a real Luna. She saved us all.”

The words stung more than I wanted to admit, but I kept my smile soft. “You’re right, Natalie was very brave. She gave her life for the pack, and we honor her memory every day. Would you like me to take you to the memorial garden today?”

His cloudy eyes brightened slightly. “You’d really do that?”

“Yes, of course. In fact, I could take everyone there for a little while after you eat.”

By the time the meal was finished, all of the elders were excited for a little field trip. With the nursing home staff’s help—much to Tiffany’s chagrin—we loaded the elders up into the nursing home bus and headed to the garden.

The garden wasn’t far, although I never visited myself. That stupid fucking statue just irritated me, especially now that I knew Natalie was probably alive and out there somewhere, plotting and scheming.

Still, I kept a smile on my face as I led the elders through the garden, stopping to smell the roses. I even clipped some flowers for the staff to take back to the nursing home.

Once the field trip was over, Tiffany and I split off for the rest of our tasks: the pack’s elementary school, where we helped serve lunch and read stories to the younger children. Then to the community center to help set up for an upcoming event. Then to the medical clinic to deliver supplies.

Each task was more physically demanding than the last, and Tiffany’s determination to match my vigor was clearly taking its toll. Her heels had been abandoned after the second stop, her stockings had runs in them, and her makeup had completely melted away.

But every time I thought she might give up, I’d make some small comment about how a “real” Luna would handle these tasks, and she’d grit her teeth and keep going.

The afternoon sky had turned dark with storm clouds by the time we started heading back toward the Alpha manor. I was exhausted too, but the satisfaction of watching Tiffany struggle made it worthwhile. Maybe after today, she’d think twice about—

Suddenly, a figure in the distance caught my eye. An elderly farmer was struggling with his tractor, which was clearly stuck in the muddy field beside the road. The rain had just started, fat drops splattering against the windshield, and I could see him straining against the plow attachment as he tried to free it.

Without thinking, I pulled the car over to the side of the road.

“What are you doing?” Tiffany blurted out. “It’s starting to rain.”

I put the car in park and reached for the door handle. “That’s Mr. Morrison. His tractor’s stuck.”

“So? He can call for help.”

“He’s seventy-three years old and lives alone,” I said, already stepping out into the rain. “His children all moved away. Who exactly do you think he’s going to call?”

The rain was coming down harder now, instantly soaking my hair. I glanced back at Tiffany, who was staring at me from the passenger seat like I’d lost my mind.

“I’m helping him,” I said simply. “You’re welcome to stay here if you can’t handle it.”