Chapter 18
Ash
If a prospective investor walked into the house right now, I’d have to explain why the Miller brothers are operating at zero percent efficiency.
I scroll through the list of potential distributors on my tablet, dragging a thumb over the screen. The numbers aren’t getting any better. The orchard’s margins are razor-thin, and the bank isn’t known for its patience.
As the designated face of this operation, it’s my job to find an investor or secure a massive wholesale deal before the season ends. But I haven’t read a single line of data in the last forty minutes.
Reed is pacing a trench across the living room.
And Bram has been on the phone with his contacts at the county sheriff’s department for the better part of the morning.
He’s pulling every string he has to find out how this piece of trash named Derek managed to find our orchard and deliver a disguised threat to our omega.
There’s nothing I can do to speed up the sheriff’s office, so I might as well do my best not to lose my mind.
I lean back in my chair, offering Reed an easy smile as he passes.
“You’re going to wear through the soles of your boots, little brother,” I murmur.
Reed stops, glaring at me. “How are you just sitting there?”
“Because one of us has to pretend we’re still running a business.” I tap the screen. “And pacing doesn’t pay the mortgage.”
Reed exhales, dropping onto the couch. It’s a good thing he can’t sense my distress. Underneath the easy smile, my Alpha is clawing at the inside of my ribs, desperate to break out.
I know Luna is safe. I know she’s in a locked yoga sanctuary. But my biology doesn’t give a damn about gates or logic.
My biology only registers that my mate is gone.
My chest feels hollowed out, aching in a way that makes it hard to draw a clean breath.
Her honey and gooseberries is already fading from the cottage, and the withdrawal is real.
Sure, I want to find the bastard who intimidated her, but an even more powerful urge is to drive straight to that retreat to breathe her in.
Bram ends his call and tosses his phone onto the couch.
“Nothing yet,” he grinds out. “They’re pulling the courier logs, but it takes time.”
“Time,” Reed spits, crossing his arms.
I keep my expression pleasant. Easy. I can’t let them see how close I am to snapping. Bram carries enough weight for all of us, and Reed is already a live wire.
“We wait, then,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “She’s perfectly safe for now. Besides, that creep fucked up, he lost the element of surprise. Our biggest challenge right now is just fighting our own instincts to crowd her and overprotect.”
“I know. I hate this,” Reed mutters. “I hate that we can’t just...” He trails off, dragging a hand through his hair.
I look at Reed, then at Bram, who is staring out the window, his shoulders tight. Then I look down at the spreadsheet on my tablet, the rows of numbers blurring.
Ten days. That’s a long time to be apart...
I let out a slow breath, my finger tapping the edge of the glass.
I wonder if that retreat has a visitor policy...