Chapter 27

Tiffany & Elena

Tiffany

Rain pelted down on Tiffany’s face, mixing with the mud that had somehow splattered up from the field and onto her cheek. She could hardly see through the heavy storm, but gritted her teeth anyway and pushed harder against the stuck plow with all her might.

“Push!” the farmer yelled. “Just a little more!”

Tiffany clenched her jaw and pushed harder, all the while thinking: This was insane. Absolutely fucking insane.

When Tiffany had been Killian’s female Beta, she had never lowered herself to manual labor like this. She had organized schedules, attended important meetings, stood by Killian’s side at political events. She’d been respected, important, clean.

And she had been damn good at her job, not… humiliated like this.

And now here she was, soaked to the bone in a thunderstorm, helping some elderly farmer she had never even heard of before today, covered in mud like some kind of inbred farm girl. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Killian had forced her to become Elena’s babysitter, she had been lowered from the respected role of female Beta to a servant.

“Push harder!” Elena called from the other side of the plow, her white hair plastered to her head from the rain. It looked translucent when wet, making her look like some kind of creepy, pale ghost. Hardly fit to be a Luna, Tiffany thought. She still couldn’t understand what Killian saw in that girl.

Tiffany wanted to scream as she continued to push the plow, her feet scrabbling through the mud. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Not at all.

She had expected Elena to fumble through her Luna duties, to prove herself incapable of handling the real work in the span of one day. Killian had asked her to accompany Elena as a safeguard, yes, but Tiffany had seen it as an opportunity to gather evidence of Elena’s incompetence.

Instead, Elena had been one step ahead at every turn.

The nursing home visit should have been a disaster—Elena had never shown interest in the elders before. But she had handled even that old man’s cruel comments with grace, turning what should have been a humiliating moment into a heartwarming fucking field trip.

The elementary school, the community center, the medical clinic—at each stop, Elena had known exactly what to do, whom to talk to, what was needed. It was as if she’d been preparing for this day for weeks, or maybe even longer.

And now this. This godsdamned farmer and his godsdamned plow and the godsdamned storm and godsdamned fucking everything!

“Almost there!” Mr. Morrison wheezed from the tractor seat, trying to reverse while they pushed. “One more push and she’ll be out!”

Tiffany’s hands slipped on the wet metal, and she nearly face-planted in the mud. Her clothing was ruined—the expensive skirt torn, her blouse transparent from the rain, stockings shredded. She had at least had the good senses to swap out her designer high heels for those disgusting rain boots Elena had, but still. She looked like she’d been wrestling pigs.

But she couldn’t give up. Not when Elena was still pushing, still helping, still proving herself to be the dutiful Luna that Tiffany knew she wasn’t.

Because Elena wasn’t dutiful. Whatever this was couldn’t be real; she had to be planning something. Tiffany had seen her with Jaxon Adler, and had the photo on her phone to prove it. She’d noticed the way Elena had been acting lately—defiant, secretive, different.

This sudden interest in being the perfect Luna had to be part of some larger scheme. Tiffany was sure of it.

The plow suddenly lurched free, and Tiffany stumbled backward, landing hard on her ass in the mud and causing it to splatter all around her with a sickening squelch. Above them, Mr. Morrison hollered with joy, waving his hat in the air.

“Thank you, ladies! Thank you so much!”

Elena helped the old man secure his equipment while Tiffany struggled to her feet, mud slipping between her fingers. Her resentment burned hotter than ever as she watched Elena chat with the farmer like they were old friends, both of them laughing about something despite being soaked through from the rain.

But this wasn’t over. Tiffany would gather more evidence, document every suspicious meeting, every strange behavior. She’d already started a file—the photo with Jaxon, notes about Elena’s sudden personality change, records of her unusual requests as Luna.

Once she had enough proof that Elena was unsuitable—planning something treacherous, even—she would present it all to Killian. He’d have no choice but to see the truth about his mate. He’d divorce her, cast her out, and then…

Then things would change for the better, finally, once and for all. Tiffany would stand by Killian’s side not only as his female Beta, but his real Luna. Killian would see how devoted Tiffany was to him and he would finally, finally, make her his wife.

“Ready to head back?” Elena called, already walking toward the car with a spring in her step that no normal person should have after that kind of a day. She really did look like the cat that had caught the canary.

Tiffany followed, hardly even able to hold herself upright, but kept her head held high. She’d lost today’s battle, but the war was far from over.

Elena didn’t know it yet, but Tiffany would be watching her every move from now on. One slip-up, one mistake, one piece of concrete evidence, and Tiffany would have everything she needed to destroy her once and for all.

…

Elena

I was exhausted by the time we got back to the Alpha manor, every muscle in my body aching from the day’s work combined with yesterday’s workout. Mud caked my jeans and had somehow gotten under my fingernails despite my best efforts. Even my hair felt gritty with dirt, and I probably stank like a pigsty.

But the satisfaction of watching Tiffany stumble through the front door, looking like she’d been through a blender, made it all worthwhile. She’d kept up with everything I’d thrown at her, but just barely.

Tomorrow she would certainly be too sore to properly spy on me, which would give me some breathing room to meet with Jaxon about the investigation.

I was heading toward the stairs, already fantasizing about a hot shower and collapsing into bed, when a scent stopped me in my tracks.

Something smelled incredible. Like herbs and garlic and… was that rosemary?

My stomach growled, reminding me that I’d been too busy torturing Tiffany to eat lunch today. Curious, I followed the smell toward the kitchen, wondering which of the staff was cooking something so delicious.

I pushed open the kitchen door and froze.

Instead of a cook it was Killian who stood at the stove, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stirring something in a large pot. He had a dish towel thrown over one shoulder and was deeply engrossed in whatever he was making.

Killian. Cooking. In the kitchen.

Had I hit my head after all? Was I hallucinating from exhaustion?

In all our years of marriage, I’d never once seen him cook anything more complicated than coffee. He had staff for that, he’d always said. His time was too valuable to waste on domestic tasks.

Yet here he was, tasting whatever was in the pot and adding more pepper like he actually knew what he was doing.

“What the hell?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Killian turned at the sound of my voice, and his eyes went wide as he took in my appearance. I could only imagine what I looked like—covered in mud from head to toe, hair plastered to my skull, clothes ruined beyond repair.

We stared at each other for a long moment, both too shocked to speak. Then, at the exact same time, we both blurted out:

“What the hell happened to you?”