Chapter 10 #3
I explain that we’ve come up with a few different ways to combat those sabotage attempts but that we switch them up on the day of the delivery so no knows in advance and, sure enough, that’s made a difference these past few days. I don’t tell them what those solutions are.
I tell them all the various items we move, how we move them, and who pays us.
It used to be guns, girls, and grass. These days it’s basically the same thing, but dirtier to reflect the world we live in, with black market foods that various raiding parties sell to us to distribute after they’ve raided bunkers and forged their way into lost cities.
I talk about the different forms of payment we take and how they’ve all helped us extend our influence so that despite having no telephones and no internet, we have more access to more parts of our territory than we did when we were all online and connected.
When I’m done, I see some of the pack higher-ups looking at each other in ways that make me think they’re on board. Or at least that they see the benefit of what we’re doing here and can envision trying some of these things out themselves.
McCaffrey just looks furious. But I was never going to win him over, no matter what I said. I can’t count that as a loss.
As I think that, I realize that worrying about winning anyone over is focusing on the wrong thing. I don’t need to win anything here. That’s the kind of attitude I can’t stand when I see it in the likes of Deirdre.
My work speaks for itself. There’s no winning involved.
There’s only stating the facts and letting these men arrive at their own conclusions.
Conclusions that I already know will be about politics for some and relationships for others.
Only a very few will consider what’s best for wolfkind as a whole.
So when I finish with my overview, I wait.
“That’s a pretty presentation,” drawls Rafael, kicked back in the corner like he’s on a throne.
He’s not actually seated at the table, and I’m certain that the older wolves blocked him out to teach him a lesson about respect.
Instead, they now have to crane around to look at him, sitting there exuding alpha leadership without even trying.
So maybe someone’s winning here after all.
“But I have to wonder if it’s the presentation that’s so slick or the operation as a whole. Can I ask you some questions?”
“Please,” I reply.
Rafael shoots a glance Ty’s way, but Ty’s expression doesn’t change. He’s sitting at the head of the table—his table, or they’d probably make him sit off against the wall too—and doesn’t seem to notice that the person currently standing up and talking to all these pack leaders is his woman.
He might as well outright announce that he sees me as more of a partner than a broodmare.
I guess that in his way, he is.
I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to kiss that man more, but that would completely undermine this moment. So I keep my face scrubbed free of any expression too, to honor what he’s letting happen here.
When Rafael starts firing smart, interesting questions at me, I answer every one. I walk them through everything we do. I explain the central point again and again, in as many ways as it takes.
It’s simple, and it’s this: Ty’s genius wasn’t in reacting to the Reveal. It was in acting as if the Reveal hadn’t happened at all.
He didn’t let his pack disappear into the revelry. Or not for too long. He sent my brothers to New York to get me, and he otherwise carried on like it was business as usual out here, and because he did, he made it so.
When something blew up, he negotiated with whoever could fix it, no matter who or what they were.
No matter if it went against ancient customs, because what the hell, everything was new again.
Because of him, there was communication up and down the West Coast. It didn’t depend on fancy magic like the kind Savi does, or even the less comprehensive but effective magic that mages do.
He circled around using them too, when necessary, but the first thing he did was make sure he let everyone in his network know that shit was still expected to run.
Smooth or not smooth, it didn’t matter as long as we all kept going.
So we did. We kept going.
A lot of these other packs didn’t. They were too busy enjoying the wild bacchanal. Ty always said he didn’t find this particularly surprising, since when these same packs were operating only as biker gangs for the world to see, it was the same shit.
I say all of this to them now without actually saying any of it.
And when everyone’s asked me everything they want to ask, except possibly McCaffrey—who looks like he’d like to ask me who the hell I think I am—all the men are talking.
It sounds more like brainstorming and less like bitching, and I know that has to be an upgrade.
I tuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans and sneak a look at Ty.
His expression still doesn’t change. He’s leaning back in his chair, stroking his beard, but I’m pretty sure the reason he’s doing that is to hide his smile.
“As you can see,” he says, when the chatter dies down a little bit, “with a little bit of luck, and maybe some bullheaded stubbornness because you know that’s the kind of asshole I am, we made it work.
I’m glad you got to all hear how, so the next time I come to you with some big idea, you’ll see I’m not talking out of my ass. ”
There’s some laughter at that, not all of it good-natured in my opinion, but laughter all the same.
“But, credit where credit is due, what I’m good at is fighting,” Ty continues, still lounging there in a way that should look nothing but lazy. His specialty.
I think it makes him look even more powerful. So powerful he doesn’t have to sit there like a loaded weapon—he just is one.
“I can make shit happen,” he says. “But all of this tracking and analysis crap? Understanding what’s happening and watching different patterns develop?
That’s all Maddox. If I’m successful, it’s because Maddox not only has the education but the willingness to take on roles outside her fated place in this pack.
That’s no small thing. It means we’re able to respond quickly and creatively when shit goes wrong. And shit always goes wrong.”
One of the old men shakes his head. “I hear you, son,” he says, which is already patronizing. I’m sure ancient Alfric knows that Ty is in no way his son and won’t like the implication that he could be, so that has to be the point of it. “But I worry about your legacy.”
Ty nods as if that’s not the same boring old-school crap they always say when they’re concerned. “We’ve all heard of females bearing young into their hundred and fiftieth year,” he reminds them all. “Maddox is twenty-five.”
There’s a lot of movement in those chairs now, and I decide it’s a virtue after all to keep my eyes respectfully lowered while a roomful of males discuss my fertility.
It occurs to me it’s probably not the first time it’s come up.
“In the meantime, my legacy is that my people eat well,” Ty is saying.
“This pack is one of the three big powers in this valley. We stand on equal ground with the vampire king and a full-blood sorcerer from one of the old families.” I can see him out of the corner of my eye, looking around the table.
“We all know that’s not typical for werewolves.
There’s nothing typical about this pack, and there doesn’t have to be anything typical about the rest of our packs, either.
There’s nothing we’re doing that you all can’t do. ”
More muttering from the men, so he sits forward. “I’m not a hundred-year king by accident,” he says then, grinning. “I’m not going anywhere, and I got the rest of my legacy covered, Alfric. Believe me.”
Everyone laughs again, and even McCaffrey looks slightly less apoplectic than before. The effort to keep my mouth closed is intense. So intense I bite my own tongue, but no one here has to know that.
The men get up and start to file out. They’re slapping each other on the back, crashing their shoulders together, and putting on various displays of friendship, brotherhood, and dominance as they go.
The most powerful males in my world and they still behave like cubs.
Ty moves toward the door. He gives me a lift of his chin while he and his loyal VP, the always kind and friendly Connor, pass by me. Then he’s gone.
It’s Liam who stays behind. I assume it’s to make sure that I leave church without looking too closely at anything in here or—worse—defiling it with my femaleness, sacred as this place is to the holy male wolf penis.
I dutifully turn around and head for the door, but he stops me with that same grave look in his eyes. I brace myself, waiting for the takedown. The list of things I did wrong. The ways I’ve dishonored myself and my family and worst of all, this pack and its leader.
Instead, Liam nods. The corner of his mouth curves.
“Nice job, little sister,” he says. “You did good.”
I follow him out and down the tunnel, back into the crowded grand cavern with a smile I’m trying to hide on my own face.
Then I let myself begin to wonder if maybe—just maybe—we might be okay after all.