For a moment, Sera considered lying. But Elder Moira would see through it, just like she'd apparently seen through Sera's entire carefully constructed facade.

So she told a version of the truth.

"I lost someone I loved," Sera said quietly. "Six months ago. It broke something in me. I've been drifting since then, trying to figure out how to keep living when everything that mattered is gone."

That much was true.

"Working with growing things... it helps. It reminds me that things can survive, can heal, even after terrible damage. That's what I'm doing here. Trying to heal."

Also true, in its way. Even if the healing she was seeking involved revenge and destruction.

Elder Moira's expression softened. "I'm sorry for your loss." She looked back out at the garden. "The Alpha walks that path sometimes. In the evenings when he can't sleep. He stands there looking at what's left of Elena's garden, and I can see it breaks his heart all over again."

Perfect. Even better than Sera had hoped.

"If you restore it," Elder Moira continued slowly, "he would notice. He might not say anything, but he'd notice. And it might... it might help him. To see it living again instead of dying."

She turned to face Sera fully. "I'm not giving you official permission. If Miss Celeste objects, I'll have to stop you. But if you want to work on it in your own time, on your own initiative... I won't stand in your way."

It wasn't quite approval, but it was close enough.

"Thank you," Sera said softly. "I won't let it interfere with my duties."

"See that you don't." Elder Moira handed her the stack of linens. "Now finish the inventory. And Sera? Be careful. That garden means something to powerful people. Don't get caught in the middle of things you don't understand."

If only Elder Moira knew. Sera was already in the middle of things, by design and with deadly purpose.

But she just nodded. "I'll be careful."

---

That evening, after her shift ended, Sera borrowed some basic tools from the groundskeeper's shed and made her way to the garden.

Up close, it was even sadder than it had appeared from the window. The fountain in the center was cracked and dry, filled with dead leaves. The pathways were barely visible under years of overgrowth. Roses that had once been carefully pruned had become wild, thorny tangles.

But underneath the decay, she could see what it had been. Someone had planned this with love and skill. The placement of the beds, the flow of the paths, the way the fountain served as a natural focal point-it was all thoughtful, intentional.

Elena had loved this place. Had poured herself into it.

And now it was dying, just like Elena had died. Just like Marcus had died. Just like everything beautiful and loved eventually died.

Sera knelt beside one of the flowerbeds and began pulling weeds, her hands working automatically while her mind spun with plans and possibilities.

If she restored this garden, Kael would notice. Would potentially see her as someone who understood loss, who respected Elena's memory, who could bring life back to dead things.

It was perfect. Calculated. A way to get his attention without seeming like she was trying.

She worked until the sun began to set, clearing one small section of flowerbed. It wasn't much, but it was a start. She'd need weeks-maybe months-to truly restore this place, but that was fine. She had time. Not much, but enough.

She was washing dirt from her hands at the fountain when she heard voices approaching. Kael's deep tones, and a woman's voice she didn't recognize.

Sera grabbed her tools and slipped behind one of the overgrown rose arbors, concealing herself in the shadows.

"-unnecessary," Kael was saying as he entered the garden. "The alliance is already agreed upon. We don't need to make grand gestures."

"A grand gesture might help," the woman replied. She was middle-aged, elegantly dressed, with Celeste's auburn hair and sharp features. Her mother, Sera realized. "Celeste is in love with you, Kael. The least you could do is pretend to return the sentiment occasionally."

"I've been honest about the nature of this arrangement from the beginning," Kael said, his tone firm but not unkind. "This is a political alliance, beneficial to both our packs. I've never promised love."

"But she hopes for it," Mrs. Ravencroft said quietly. "She believes that once you're mated, once you have time together, you'll develop feelings. Is that really so impossible?"

There was a long silence. Sera barely dared to breathe, pressed against the thorny roses.

"I had a true mate," Kael said finally. "I know what that feels like. This... isn't that."

"Elena has been dead for thirteen years."

"I'm aware." His voice hardened slightly. "But that doesn't mean I can force feelings I don't have. I respect Celeste. I'll honor our arrangement. I'll do my duty to both our packs. But I won't lie to her about love."

"Then you're condemning her to a lifetime of loneliness," Mrs. Ravencroft said sharply. "A lifetime of loving someone who will never love her back. That's cruel, Kael."

"It would be more cruel to lie." Kael moved further into the garden, and Sera caught a glimpse of him through the leaves. His expression was tired, worn. "I never asked her to fall in love with me. I made my position clear from the start."

"Feelings aren't something you can control with negotiations and contracts," Mrs. Ravencroft said, frustration clear in her voice. "My daughter deserves better than cold duty."

"Then perhaps she should have considered that before agreeing to the arrangement," Kael replied, an edge creeping into his voice. "I have been honest. I have been fair. I will be a loyal mate and co-leader. But I cannot give her something I don't have."

"Can't or won't?" Mrs. Ravencroft challenged.

But Kael didn't answer. He stood looking at the dried fountain, the overgrown beds, the roses gone wild.

"This garden," he said instead, his voice softer. "Did you know Elena spent three years planning it? She drew designs, researched plants, learned about soil composition and drainage. She was sixteen and planning our future, dreaming about what our life together would be."

He reached out to touch one of the wild roses, careful of the thorns.

"She died before she saw it fully mature. Before the roses she planted had their first real bloom. And I let it die because I couldn't bear to look at what we'd lost."

Mrs. Ravencroft's expression softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dismiss your grief."

"I'm not grieving anymore," Kael said. "It's been thirteen years. I've made my peace with Elena's death. But I won't dishonor her memory by pretending to feel something I don't. Not for politics. Not for duty. Not even for kindness."

He turned to face Mrs. Ravencroft directly. "I will honor the arrangement I made with your family. I will be faithful, loyal, and respectful to Celeste. I will work to be a good co-leader and a fair partner. But I cannot love her, and I won't pretend otherwise. If that's not enough, then perhaps we should reconsider this entire arrangement."

There was steel in his voice now, Alpha command beneath the polite words. This was not a man who could be pushed or manipulated.

Mrs. Ravencroft's mouth tightened, but she inclined her head. "Very well. I'll speak to Celeste. Help her understand what she can and cannot expect."

"Thank you." Kael's tone gentled slightly. "I don't want to hurt her. But I won't lie to her either."

They left together, their voices fading as they headed back toward the main house.

Sera remained frozen behind the roses, her heart pounding, her mind racing.

She'd just learned something crucial: Kael was honorable to a fault. He wouldn't lie about his feelings, wouldn't manipulate or deceive. He'd laid everything out clearly from the start-this was duty, not love.

And Celeste loved him anyway. Desperately. Hopelessly.

It was tragic, really. A woman in love with a man who would never love her back, trapped in an arrangement that would give her status and power but never the one thing she truly wanted.

Sera should have felt satisfaction. This made her job easier-Celeste was already vulnerable, already hurting. When Kael eventually fell for Sera instead, Celeste would be devastated in a way that went far beyond political embarrassment.

But instead, she felt something uncomfortably like pity.

She understood what it was like to love someone completely. To have that person be your entire world. She'd had that with Marcus.

And she understood what it would feel like to watch that person love someone else instead. The jealousy, the pain, the desperate hope that maybe, somehow, they'd change their mind.

Celeste was setting herself up for heartbreak. And Sera was going to ensure that heartbreak was as devastating as possible.

The pity curdled into something darker. She couldn't afford sympathy for her obstacles. Couldn't afford to see Celeste as anything but what she was-a barrier to be removed, collateral damage in the larger mission of revenge.

Sera waited until full dark before emerging from her hiding spot. She gathered her tools and made her way back to the servants' entrance, her mind churning.

Kael wouldn't lie about his feelings. He was honest, honorable, clear about his intentions.

Which meant when Sera eventually made him fall for her, it would be genuine. He wouldn't fake it or pretend. When he broke his arrangement with Celeste, it would be because his feelings were real.

That would make the eventual betrayal so much worse.

She'd make him love her genuinely, break his engagement honorably, and then reveal that it had all been a lie. That she'd been manipulating him from the start. That everything he'd felt had been manufactured by a woman seeking revenge.

It was perfect. Cruel and perfect.

Back in her room, Sera washed the dirt from under her fingernails and changed into clean clothes. Her muscles ached from the extra work, but it was worth it. She'd found her opening-a way to get noticed that wouldn't seem calculated or obvious.

She pulled out her phone and composed a carefully worded message:

*Made contact with primary location. Establishing foundation as discussed. Will continue observation and positioning. Timeline on track.*

She sent it to the encrypted number Dante had given her, then deleted the message from her phone.

The Shadow Wolves were waiting for her signal. When Kael's engagement fell apart, when the alliance crumbled, when he was at his most vulnerable-that's when they'd strike.

Sera lay in bed, staring at Marcus's photo on her nightstand.

"I'm getting close," she whispered. "Closer every day. He'll never see it coming."

Marcus smiled back at her, frozen forever in a moment of happiness they'd never get back.

Sera closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but all she could see was Kael standing in that dead garden, touching roses with careful hands, speaking about honor and honesty with a voice full of conviction.

A man who valued truth above all else.

She was going to destroy him with lies.

And she couldn't afford to feel guilty about it.

The garden became Sera's refuge.

Every morning, she woke at four AM-a full hour before her shift-and worked in the cold pre-dawn darkness, coaxing life back into Elena's dying dream. She cleared weeds, pruned dead growth, cleaned debris from the fountain. Her hands grew callused and dirt embedded itself under her fingernails despite constant scrubbing, but slowly, gradually, the garden began to reveal its bones.

A week passed. Then two.

She kept herself invisible during her regular duties, blending seamlessly into the household staff. But in those stolen early morning hours, she allowed herself to be... something else. Not quite herself-she didn't know who that was anymore. But not entirely the mask she wore either.

There was something meditative about the work. Something that quieted the constant noise of grief and rage in her head. She could almost understand why Elena had loved this place, had poured so much care into creating it.

Almost.

On her tenth day of working in the garden, Sera discovered bulbs buried beneath the weeds in one of the beds-tulips, maybe, or daffodils. They'd survived thirteen years of neglect, waiting underground for someone to give them a chance to bloom again.

She carefully cleared around them, gave them space to breathe, and felt something uncomfortably like hope stir in her chest.

She crushed it immediately. Hope was dangerous. Hope made you soft, made you hesitate.

She was here for revenge, not redemption.

It was a Tuesday morning, barely past dawn, when Celeste found her.

Sera was on her knees by the fountain, scrubbing years of grime from the stone basin, when she heard the sharp click of expensive heels on the pathway.

She looked up to find Celeste Ravencroft standing at the garden entrance, immaculately dressed as always, her expression a mix of surprise and something darker.

"What are you doing?" Celeste's voice was cold, imperious.

Sera climbed to her feet quickly, wiping dirty hands on her work pants. "Miss Celeste. I'm sorry, I was just-"

"I asked what you're doing," Celeste interrupted, moving closer. Her eyes swept over the cleared pathway, the pruned roses, the evidence of restoration. "Who gave you permission to work in this garden?"

"No one, ma'am." Sera kept her head down, projecting deference even as her mind raced. "I just... I saw how beautiful it used to be, and I thought maybe it could be saved. I'm doing it on my own time, not during my shift. I didn't think-"

"No, you clearly didn't think." Celeste's voice was sharp as a blade. "This garden is scheduled to be demolished and redesigned. I've already hired landscapers. Whatever amateur work you're doing here is pointless."

"I'm sorry," Sera said quietly. "I meant no disrespect. I just hate seeing beautiful things die."

Celeste stepped closer, and Sera could smell her expensive perfume-something floral and cloying that probably cost more than Sera's monthly wages.

"What's your name?" Celeste asked, her tone shifting to something more calculating.

"Sera Blackwood, ma'am."

"Sera." Celeste circled her slowly, like a predator assessing prey. "You're new here. Two weeks, is that right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And in those two weeks, you've decided to involve yourself in matters that are well above your station." Celeste stopped directly in front of her, forcing Sera to look up. "This garden belonged to the Alpha's first mate. It's deeply personal, deeply painful. What makes you think you have any right to touch it?"

It was a test, Sera realized. Celeste was trying to gauge her intentions, her threat level.

"I didn't think of it that way," Sera said, carefully injecting uncertainty into her voice. "I just saw something dying that could be saved. I'm sorry if I overstepped. I'll stop immediately if that's what you want."

Celeste's eyes narrowed. "You're very pretty, aren't you? In that... simple, understated way. The kind of pretty that men think is natural, that they think just happened by accident."

Sera's pulse quickened, but she kept her expression neutral. "I don't know what you mean, ma'am."

"Don't play stupid with me." Celeste's voice dropped to something dangerous. "I've seen pretty maids before. Seen the way they position themselves near powerful males, hoping to catch attention. Hoping to elevate their station through seduction and manipulation."

"I would never-"

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you," Celeste commanded.

Sera raised her eyes, meeting Celeste's gaze directly for the first time. She saw jealousy there, and fear, and something almost like desperation.

This woman was terrified of losing Kael. Not because of politics or alliances, but because she genuinely loved him. And she saw threats everywhere, even in a lowly maid working in a forgotten garden.

"I'm not interested in seduction or manipulation," Sera said, keeping her voice steady and earnest. "I'm just trying to do honest work and maybe... maybe help something beautiful live again. That's all. I promise."

The lies tasted like ash, but she delivered them perfectly-just the right mix of innocence and hurt confusion.

Celeste studied her for a long moment, then stepped back. "You're a maid. You'll always be a maid. Remember your place, Sera Blackwood. And stay away from things-and people-that don't belong to you."

It was a clear warning. A line drawn in the sand.

"Yes, ma'am," Sera said quietly. "I understand."

"Good." Celeste turned to leave, then paused. "And stop working on this garden. It's being torn out in four weeks regardless. Your efforts are wasted."

She swept away, leaving Sera alone among the roses and the fountain and the slowly returning life.

Sera remained still until she was certain Celeste was gone, then let out a slow breath.

That had been dangerous. Celeste was watching her now, suspicious and threatened. Sera would need to be even more careful, even more invisible.

But it also confirmed something important: Celeste could be provoked. Her jealousy was a weakness, a crack in her otherwise perfect facade.

Sera could work with that.

She looked down at her dirt-stained hands, at the fountain she'd been scrubbing, at the garden slowly coming back to life despite thirteen years of death.

Elder Moira had said Kael walked here sometimes, when he couldn't sleep.

Sera had been working in the mornings to avoid him, to restore the garden without drawing direct attention.

But maybe it was time to adjust her schedule.