"This is a very bold move. The moon pack has been eyeing this piece of land for a while; their alpha is too much of a coward to take it."
"I did tell him if he treasured his pack, he should concentrate on it and not on stepping on my toes," Travis smirks, eyeing the way the old, stuffy, but respectable men of his pack gloat when they hear that.
They all want to be seen and recognized as the more powerful pack, even though he suspects they have never lifted a finger a day in their miserable lives.
"A chain of hotels here will be the most profitable. To make sure our pack is more involved in the food sector. We have our foot in every sector. Perhaps expanding on agriculture is the good way to go," another one says, after looking at the file in his hand.
Travis had prepared the manifesto and his vision in the files he distributed when the meeting started.
Everything is already underway; all he is waiting for is a green light. An annoying thing, really, because these men, as much as they are snotty and prude, he still needs their support.
They are the pack's royal court. And as the head alpha, they all need to cooperate.
In the new, planned-out map, his siblings have even fewer shares and less power, and he already predicts an angry phone call and a visit from his sister, who will throw a fit before leaving.
It will all be done, and he will be firmly seated in his seat, not being pressured to do something he will never have to.
Especially now that he has found out things that make him even more unstable than he already is.
Finding out that your dead mate is still alive does things to your brain.
"But," Zichu, one of the court members, frowns at the file before looking at Travis. "This all seems like a lot of work. You are a young alpha, in the process of being mated. You also have your other affairs, like school. Will you be able to handle all of this?"
There it is.
He chuckles dryly before throwing the older one on the table, and the room falls silent. Deathly silent.
Travis takes his time. Rolling his sleeves up, he takes a cigarette and lights it up, and takes a big inhale.
When he exhales. He can swear he can see sweat trickling down old Zichu's face. They all fear him, no matter how hard they try to hide it. He knows what they call him behind his back.
Maniac. Feral.
He doesn't mind. Why would he, when he is all those things? More even?
It's his father who breaks the silence, speaking for the first time since they entered the conference room.
"Such statements can be taken as you challenging your alpha, zichu." Michael narrows his eyes at the old man, who is now slightly trembling in his seat. "Is that what you are doing?"
"No, I am sorry, I didn't mean to, but-" even deathly afraid, he looks at the others who avoid his gaze, but he is determined.
"We all know that our alpha is … he needs someone to keep him company. I was only asking what we have all been wondering. It's partly the reason we agreed to come to this meeting. We need to know the future of this pack."
They are worried but can't tell it to himself because he makes sure their coffers are brimming but still. They don't want an unhinged alpha seated at the top without someone to keep him in check.
"I wasn't aware I needed a babysitter," Travis snuffs out the cigarette on the ashtray before looking at the old man.
"Forgive me, alpha," the white haired one bows respectfully before shooting Zichu a glare to keep his mouth shut before he proceeds.
"But there has been talk going on. Every head alpha forms a bond with his pack, keeping the traditional values and beliefs, the old ways alive, even in the modern day. We have let go of some archaic ways, but the core ones are still being practiced. One of them is the bond between the head alpha and his pack members.
"The ritual has been delayed for years because of what happened, but it's already been too long. We are not sure what else to do or expect. There is a rift, and the rest of the pack feels it."
Travis nods, already knowing all of this. He knows that he has been a head alpha, but not the way his pack usually has been. He has been lacking, and as much as he doesn't want to admit it himself, it has been begging him.
They are a pack that has lived among humans since their ancestors ran away from their original land, and still, even merging with modern-day man, they still hold their traditional ways. The ways of the moon touch and honor the gods.
But Travis himself hasn't been one with the gods. The gods betrayed him, and he has thrown all their needs away, abandoning them as they abandoned him when he called for their help.
And yet, here he is. Being reminded that he isn't doing what he needs to do. Fulfilling his duties.
It's a show of loyalty and binding himself to the ways of those who came before him, the leaders, and taking the immense power they will bless him with in the said ritual. Already, he can feel his father's trepidation even from across the table.
They both know the state he is in. It's an unspoken understanding.
Travis cut all the bonds he had with everyone after that day. He doesn't even have his familial bond, let alone the pack's.
"Okay," Travis says after contemplation. He ignores the surprised look that crosses his father's face for a second before it vanishes. "I will prepare myself for this."
He doesn't need a random omega. Travis has already found his one. Day is alive, so all he needs to do is get him back to his side, and he can do the ritual.
Life isn't as heavy as it used to be, because day is here and he will say yes to them, renewing their bond. Hell, they can do it on the day of.
He must be grinning because the court members all sigh and look relieved, the cloud that was hanging in the room lifting. They become more agreeable to his plans, and the green light is given.
Suddenly, he isn't so young to juggle a lot of things, as long as he is now going to be mated and blessed by the gods, all is well in the world.
His father, Michael, doesn't think so when the meeting is all done, and it's only the two of them back in his office.