Chapter 9 The Performance

Eira arrived home at six in the evening.

Alpha Sebastian was sprawled on the couch, watching her with that familiar look—the one that said she’d already done something wrong before she’d even opened her mouth.

"You’re late."

"And you’re early." She raised an eyebrow. "Thought you’d be playing chauffeur all night."

His jaw tightened. He didn’t take the bait. Instead, he jumped straight to what was really bothering him. "An administrative position. And it takes a month to process a resignation?"

"Company policy."

She turned to leave. His hand shot out and caught her wrist.

"I’m hungry."

Four years. And this was the first time she heard it clearly—this was never a request. It was a command.

"Go make dinner. I want that braised beef my mother taught you."

"There’s nothing fresh in the house."

"Then go buy some."

"At this hour? Everything’s closed."

He frowned at her like she were deliberately stalling.

She kept her tone casual. "You should probably check on Serena’s hand. Make sure she didn’t bruise anything."

His grip loosened instantly. The speed at which he pulled out his phone was almost funny.

"I’m still at Silix Institute," came Serena’s voice through the speaker, breathy and deliberately sweet.

Eira froze.

Silix Institute. Where she worked.

But she’d never seen Serena in that building. Never heard anyone mention "Serena Winthrop" by name.

Except—

A conversation surfaced in her mind.

Last week her assistant had come in with coffee, venting about some director’s granddaughter angling for a spot at the institute.

A resume built for magazine covers. International scholarships. Co-authored papers. A grandfather who made calls to open doors.

"Sharp instincts, though," her assistant had said, rolling her eyes. "Wonder what she’s after this time."

Eira had shrugged it off and forgotten about it.

Now, listening to that same fake breathless voice on the phone, it all clicked.

"What do you want to eat? I’ll have Eira make it for you." Alpha Sebastian’s voice dripped with false tenderness. That alone snapped her back to the moment.

"Are you sure that’s okay?"

"Of course it’s okay. Your hand got hurt because of her. It’s the least she can do."

Serena ordered braised beef short ribs—with herb butter, fresh thyme, and shallots. All fresh ingredients. At this hour, impossible to find.

Eira knew exactly what this was. A dish deliberately chosen because it couldn’t be made on short notice.

"I’m not hungry," Eira said. "You two enjoy."

"I mean you cook it. She’ll eat it when she gets here."

"Am I the hired help now, Sebastian?"

"Her hand got hurt because of you. You’re responsible for taking care of her until it heals."

"I didn’t hurt her."

He wasn’t listening. In this house, facts had never mattered.

"Braised short ribs. Tonight."

One more month. Just get through it.

"Fine." She swallowed the anger rising in her throat. "You go pick her up. I’ll cook."

The door closed behind him.

Then Eira pulled out her phone, opened a delivery app, and ordered braised beef short ribs with roasted vegetables.

The food arrived before they did. She transferred the ribs into a still-warm cast-iron pot and scattered the last of the parsley from the fridge over the vegetables.

It smelled right. Looked right. Like she’d made it herself.

Who would look closely enough to tell the difference?

--

On her way back from throwing out the delivery containers, Eira heard laughter from the corner of the street.

Serena had one hand over her mouth, doubled over. Alpha Sebastian reflexively reached out to steady her, saw Eira, and froze. His hand hung in midair before he pulled it back.

"Eira? What are you doing out here?"

"Taking out the trash."

She headed for the door, tuning out whatever story they were reminiscing about—some trip from their youth, probably.

Just before she closed the door, Serena’s voice drifted over again.

"Oh, Sebastian," she said lightly, like it was an afterthought, "Did I tell you? I’m joining a federal-level project next week."

"What project?"

"Chip development. The details aren’t public yet." She laughed, pride unmistakable in her tone. "I heard it’s groundbreaking. Even the federal government’s watching it closely."

Eira’s footsteps stopped.

A federal chip project big enough to have Washington watching. There weren’t many of those. And the one that mattered was hers.

Serena. It had to be Serena.

There was only one way Serena could already know the results were about to go public. Someone with real access had told her. Her grandfather.

As for why Serena had never seen her at Silix, the answer was simple. The core team’s roster was locked down. No outsider got the list. Whatever Serena knew, she’d gotten secondhand, filtered through whatever her grandfather chose to repeat.

She didn’t even know the woman she’d been mocking all evening was the one who ran it.

--

The five minutes before dinner were quiet.

Serena poked at the meat on her plate with her fork, then asked, seemingly casual, who’d taught Eira to make this dish.

"Google."

"Wow." Serena’s smile was loaded. "First time making it, and it turned out pretty good."

Eira didn’t bite.

Serena kept going, riding the high of a win she hadn’t even landed yet.

"My grandfather’s been on the phone all week," she said, practically glowing. "Once this hits the news, my name’s going to be everywhere."

"Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out," Eira said.

"Obviously." Serena raised an eyebrow, fishing for a compliment.

"So. You earn this? Or your grandfather did?"

Serena blinked. Then laughed, sharp and fake. "Excuse me? You think I don’t deserve it?"

"Didn’t say that." Eira shrugged. "Just wondering if whoever actually did the work knows you’re about to take a bow for it."

Serena’s smile cracked.

"Wow, rude much?" She turned to Alpha Sebastian, voice going all soft and hurt. "You hear that?"

Alpha Sebastian shot Eira a look. "Ease up. She earned this. Not everyone gets that kind of break."

"I’m being nice." Eira raised her glass. "I just didn’t clap for her."

Dead silence.

Serena had nothing. Because Eira hadn’t said a thing that was technically wrong. She just wasn’t playing along, and everyone at the table knew it.

Alpha Sebastian glanced at Eira, opened his mouth, thought better of it, and turned back to patch things up with Serena.

Eira put her fork down. "Full."

"You didn’t even finish half of it."

"Full."

He shook his head, gave up. "Suit yourself."

--

Eira was mid-change when the door banged open.

"That wasn’t your cooking." Flat. No heat, just fact. "Four years of your food. I know the taste. You never load up on sugar like that."

"Wow." She turned around, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. "Didn’t know you had taste buds. Go be a food critic or something."

He didn’t bite. "What’s your deal lately? You’re dodging me."

"Doing my job."

"As my Luna—"

"As your Luna, I run this house. Done. What you want? Different story."

He closed the gap. "We haven’t shared a bed in days."

"And?"

"Just sleep tonight. That’s all."

She stayed quiet. He read that as a yes.

His mouth pressed to her forehead. She didn’t lean in. Didn’t pull back either. Just stood there like furniture.

Then a crash from the hallway. "Ow—Sebastian?"

He bailed and yanked the door open.

Serena was on the floor, suitcase flipped on its side. "Wheel got stuck. Whole thing landed on my foot."

He was already scooping her up, one arm under her knees, the other catching her back.

She shot Eira a smirk over his shoulder, then instantly switched to wounded puppy. "Lost a slipper."

"Grab it later."

Footsteps faded down the hall.

Eira shut the door and sagged against it, breathing out hard.

Dodged that one. Serena would drag out the drama for a solid half hour. Perfect window for a shower, a locked door, and playing dead.

But this wasn’t going to work forever.

Tonight it was a suitcase. Tomorrow? She wasn’t betting the house on some she-wolf tripping over her own baggage every single time.

She needed something bulletproof. A reason he couldn’t talk his way out of.