Page 50 of Strawberry Moon

Iwoke to the sound of papers shuffling, and that brought me to consciousness faster than anything else in my life had. Not because I didn’t want anyone looking at my work—I intended to make it public, eventually, because I wanted all werewolves to have the choice to look at it, and make their own decisions based on facts.

No, it woke me because I’d gone to sleep alone, like I always did. On the tiny couch in my private lab, with a locked door between me and the world.

I sat straight up, my brain coming online to assure me it was probably just Andy, come to check up on me and look at my latest information. He was probably just reading the progress I was making with Cliff, and my pages of excited notes about how things were going in Grovetown.

But no. I opened my eyes to find myself looking at one of the other board members, Eric Monroe, who was flipping through my notes with his nose scrunched in disgust.

Eric, who was the closest thing my grandfather had had to a true protege. Eric, who was without doubt one of the people Andy was talking about when we joked about guillotines and eating the rich. Eric, who shouldn’t even know where I was, since I hadn’t made it public or informed the board of my whereabouts.

“You’ve gotten quite cozy with the mutts out there, haven’t you?” he asked, tapping on a page and then looking up to meet my eye. “Honestly, Archer, this is a waste of your time and effort. We’ve changed our whole production system to make them happy. Isn’t that enough?”

I blinked, still slow from sleep, or maybe just too shocked at hearing the words aloud. I’d known that was how they thought, but it was the kind of thing a person kept their mouth shut about. As an old college friend of mine would have said, “He said the quiet part out loud.”

Of course he did, because he thought I was like him. Not just human, but trained by my grandfather to be a sociopathic monster, caring more about the bottom line than the lives impacted by how we arrived at that bottom line.

Ignoring the fact that I hadn’t responded, he dropped my papers onto the table and shoved them away from himself, turning toward me and crossing his arms over his chest. “I think the board has been understanding about this for long enough, Archer. It’s time for it to end. I understand that you’ve been reeling with your grandfather’s loss. We all have. But it’s time to get back to work.”

For a second, I continued to stare at him blankly. Then I waved at the papers he’d read and dismissed. “This is my work, Eric. I’m a chemist. And you may be comfortable with the fact hundreds of thousands of people are dead, but someone’s going to hold us accountable for our actions.”

Eric... laughed. He didn’t even pretend to give a damn, he laughed out loud. “Not people, Archer. Dogs. Not even the cute kind we can keep as pets. That, people would never forgive us for. This will blow over.”

It was exactly what Andy had said they were after, so it didn’t surprise me, exactly. But knowing that people are assholes and seeing them act the part are very different things.

He didn’t even pay attention to my lack of response, simply waved a hand dismissively before recrossing his arms, in a gesture so reminiscent of my grandfather that it made my chest ache where the old man had shot me the year before. “Now then, back to business. There’s a board meeting next week, and you need to be there.”

I decided not to engage in the argument that was sure to follow if I told him anything, let alone where he could shove his board meeting. Instead, I shrugged and nodded along, agreeing to go.

Maybe I would, in fact.

When he left, half an hour later, I followed him out, already dialing my lawyer as I went. He sounded harried as he answered. “Mr. Sterling. It’s so good to hear from you. It’s going well, but we’re not finished with—”

“No, I know,” I interrupted. “I know you’ll contact me when you’re done, and it’s fine. There’s something else right now. I know you’re getting rid of all the houses, but I was thinking that maybe if I could get permission, I... I want to buy a new one.”

That, more than the mass of work I’d given him, piqued John’s interest. “Permission? What can I do?”

“Oh, nothing. I mean, I have to get the permission from someone else. Just, can I buy a house?” I bit my lip, feeling slightly ridiculous asking the man’s permission like he was my grandfather and I wanted an ice cream.

Clearly, he agreed with me. “Mr. Sterling, you could still quite literally buy any house in the world you want. In any country. For any amount of money.”

I smiled and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it. “Not this one. But it won’t cost that much, I don’t think. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Just let me know, sir, and I’ll be happy to make arrangements.”

“I will,” I agreed, and started my car.

Maybe Linden would be shocked and say no, but I didn’t think so. No, I felt like the more time passed, the more he pulled me toward Grovetown. The more the people there treated me like one of them. Like pack. Like I could belong there.

So if my alpha said I could, I was going to do what Andy had been bugging me to do. I was going to make a place for myself, completely unrelated to my grandfather and Sterling.

I was going to buy a house in Grovetown.

35

Ford

We went up to the hill, stood under the tree where Lily was buried, and Barbara was nice enough to give me some space while I spilled my heart out to my lost mate. I felt like a damn fool doing it too.

It wasn’t like the words didn’t need saying. Only, Lily wasn’t there under that tree. My anxieties were. But my Lily? Lily Hill, the girl I’d fallen for in high school and spent these last seven years mourning? She wasn’t here.

---