CHAPTER 1
The crops were failing.
I didn’t give a shit about farming, but the crops were failing.
Add that to my endless list of problems.
This wasn’t the first time the Pack elders had called me to sit at the head of the table while they argued about every world-ending disaster we were facing. There was always something going wrong, some issue that they would all spend hours upon hours arguing towards a solution that was only ever a dressing on the larger wound.
This was, however, the first time they informed me that the crops were failing.
Honestly, it didn’t come as much of a surprise, but was a real kick in the teeth anyway. The farm had been on borrowed time and funds for years…basically my entire life, anyway. Cash infusion after cash infusion was nothing against historical droughts and poor management…yet another failure I had my father to thank for.
But the crops were a big problem, and I was starting to learn the true gravity of the situation. Voices were rising with the tension in the room as elder after elder did everything they could to have their chance to talk. They all said the same thing - the crops were failing, which meant a loss of income from the sale of the surplus. The crops were failing, which meant the already-depleted stores couldn’t be refilled (for the ??? year in a row).
The crops were failing, which meant there was literally not going to be food for my Pack to eat.
The loss of income meant there would be no liquid funds to pay for Pack essentials (like food) and no funds to put back in to the farm to try again next season. No income also meant there would be no money to set aside for the Pack’s debt repayments (of which there were a considerable few), which meant the creditors would come calling.
Once the creditors came calling, we would need to somehow come up with an asset to buy more time on our repayment schedule - but the only asset left was the farm, which was a failure. Without any assets to use as leverage, the only thing left was my Territory itself - I could break off sections to use as repayment to some of the Alphas that we - no, I - owed money to.
But to break off a section to the north would mean losing our border with the ancient redwood forests. To break off a section to the west would mean losing our access to the Pacific Ocean. To break off a section to the south would mean losing connection to the Desert Pack based out of Death Valley. To break off a section to the east would mean losing our access to Las Vegas, the “No Man’s Land” closest to our Pack.
All extremely terrible options with horrible strategic losses.
Not to mention the elders wouldn’t stand for it. An Alpha that loses Territory held for generations?
Not an Alpha for long.
One popular option suggested by many of the elders was to pull from my family’s personal trust to funnel money somewhere. Some thought the farm, others the debts, and the rest, the Pack. The only problem with that was the simple fact that my personal trust was also empty, thanks to my father.
More like no thanks.
I finally picked at the skin around my thumbnail hard enough for a tiny dot of blood to appear. I watched it bead slowly, start to run down my finger before wiping it away, pinching the spot firmly to force it to heal.
It was clear to me that we could continue arguing about what the best course of action may be until we all passed out from exhaustion, but that did nothing to change the fundamental problem we were facing. There was no money, and we needed a lot of it.
I wasn’t blind to the looks being thrown my way as I sat quietly, observing the conversation around me with disinterest. It didn’t have to be said - I could sense the change in more than a few elders as they surveyed me, sizing me up as an Alpha and provider. They had all liked me as a kid coming up, and seemed to like me well enough now…but I could practically smell the tide changing on their willingness to gamble on my competence.
Another thing I had my father to thank for, and frankly, his father before him. They had both been terrible with money; dreamers with no backbone and a knack for choosing dead-end investments. They had both been boozers and gamblers and fucking losers that-
Not helpful.
It didn’t matter what they had been. All that mattered now was what I could become.
If it’s not already too late.
I don’t know if there is a specific smell for mutiny - maybe some rotten-egg scent that permeated everything. Or maybe, a sickly-sweet tang that seeped in slowly through the cracks. I wondered if I could place the scent as it crept in, or if I would only smell it mixed with the smell of my own blood.
What is it they say about apples? How they never fall far from the tree?
Even if the apple falls, rolls, and is firmly kicked even further…it still fell in the same orchard.
Maybe that metaphor is a mess, I don’t know.
But it was becoming clearer and clearer that it didn’t matter how hard I tried not to become my father…some of the elders already believed our whole line was rotten.
I stood carefully, clasping my hands behind my back and squaring my shoulders. The talking - arguing - ceased immediately, and all eyes turned to me. Taking a small beat to savor the silence, I met each of their gazes individually and offered a tight smile.
“Thank you all for gathering here this evening. I appreciate the valuable insight each one of you has brought to my attention.” I took a pause, breathing slowly and monitoring my heart rate. If I sounded confident, looked confident, and pampered their egos enough…maybe I could buy myself some time.
“I will take all of our suggestions under consideration and organize some ideas for the future of our Pack. Please be advised that we will be gathering again to discuss specifics further. That will be all for this evening.”
Thankfully, I only caught a few disgruntled complaints as they all began gathering their things and leaving. I remained standing until they all departed, holding my control of the space until the heavy door slammed shut. Then, I sank back down into my chair.
Pinching my brow, I leaned forward until my head touched the wooden surface before me. I had known this was coming, but knowing is one thing. Facing failing my Pack? My duty? My bloodline? That was another thing entirely.
I was out of options, and I knew it.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened and reached for a discarded scrap of paper. On it, I scrawled a letter.
M,
The Blackwood Grand.
Friday night.
J
