Chapter 51: Money talks

Chapter 51 Lenora "Who’s the first on our list?" Cameron asks, walking on my right, Simone matching his pace on the other side. "Mr. Kesari," Simone says, flipping through a small notepad. I blink. "Kesari? Now?" Cameron nods once, firm. "No time like the present." Mr. Kesari is the head of the local clinic—technically just a clinic, but functionally our entire pack’s main medical center. He’s also on the council, in charge of health. He’s brilliant, prickly, and terribly overworked. If we’re starting with him, Cameron means business. "Lenora," Cameron nudges me with his elbow, "you know where he is?" I scan the crowd. Mr. Kesari is never far from his mate when he’s not buried in work. Mrs. Kesari, with her soft grey streaks and sharp voice, is easy to spot—currently chiding a pup who’s taken three steaks too many from the truck. Sure enough, Mr. Kesari is nearby, arms crossed, quietly watching the chaos like it’s giving him heartburn. "There." I point. We walk up together. "Lenora, my dear," Mrs. Kesari says the moment she sees me, eyes lighting up with that maternal warmth she always has around me. "Hello, little pup," Mr. Kesari adds, nodding at me, his usual gruff voice surprisingly soft. "Hello Mr. Kesari," Cameron says, stepping forward to shake his hand. The older man hesitates—just a flicker of wariness—before shaking back. Firm. Respectful. Then Simone steps forward and places a cream-colored folder in his hands. Mr. Kesari frowns, opening it. His fingers move slowly as he flips through the pages—his frown deepening, then shifting into disbelief. His mouth parts. "You mean...?" "Yes," Cameron says, steady. "Please don’t hold back. You’ve done so much for the pack already—I want to ease that burden from your shoulders. And I think you, more than anyone, know the current system isn’t ideal." "I couldn’t possibly—" he begins, but Cameron cuts in gently. "You can," he says. "And you should. What do you think this gathering is for? I didn’t come here just to put on a show, sir—I’m here to provide. It’d honestly put me in an awkward position if you turned down my help." There’s a long pause, then the older wolf exhales and gives a slow, humbled nod. "Thank you," he says, and this time, it’s quiet but full of meaning. Simone steps forward. "And don’t be afraid to dream big. You, of all people, know I did my best with shallow research, short notice, and minimal context—but my boss?" She gestures to Cameron with a faint smirk. "He can afford it. So ask for everything you need." He laughs under his breath, looking down at the folder again like it might disappear. Now I get it. It’s financial compensation. Not just a vague "support" promise, not hollow words—Cameron’s literally footing the bill. I’d been walking beside him, nodding along like I understood, but only now does it really hit. We walk away, weaving through the press of wolves now loitering near the food trucks. "What did you offer him?" I ask, glancing up at him. "That’s the first time I’ve ever seen Mr. Kesari speechless." Cameron shrugs like it’s nothing. "Just some new hospital equipment." I nearly trip. "Isn’t that very exp—" "Who’s next on the list, Simone?" he cuts me off before I can finish, his voice suddenly bright and firm. Simone, ever dutiful, scrolls on her tablet. "Mrs. Greer." I scan the dispersing crowd. I know where she’ll be—standing straight-backed in a conservative burgundy blouse, her gray-streaked hair pinned back in a tight coil, not a strand out of place. She’s the head of the local college and oversees the entire education sector of the pack. That means she controls everything from pup learning centers to cultural history preservation. Which also means... she’s not easily impressed. "There," I say, nodding toward a long bench under one of the canopy trees. She’s seated with a mug of something steaming, watching everything like a hawk with excellent posture. Cameron follows my gaze. "She’s intimidating." "She once made me write a six-page apology essay for chewing gum in her class," I mutter. He snorts. "Noted." As we approach, Mrs. Greer looks up slowly. Her gaze flicks from Cameron to me to Simone’s tablet, like she already knows we’re coming with a pitch. "Mrs. Greer," Cameron greets. "Mr. Anderson," she replies crisply. "Congratulations on your... arrival." "I hear you’re the reason Lenora knows the entire historical code of conduct by heart," Cameron says with a grin. "She was a promising student. Stubborn, but promising." I mouth rude at her behind Cameron’s shoulder. She smirks. "I won’t waste your time," Cameron continues. "I’d like to offer a contribution to the education sector. I know the college has been struggling with old materials, limited tools, and overcrowded classes. I’ve spoken to a few instructors." Her eyes narrow slightly. "And what would someone like you know about our curriculum needs?" "Not much," he admits, honest. "But I know the world’s evolving. You’ve raised generations of wolves who can survive—now I want to help you raise those who can thrive." She stares at him for a long time, searching for cracks. "And the offer?" Simone opens the folder. Mrs. Greer doesn’t take it—just motions for her to place it on the bench beside her. She flips it open with two fingers like she’s expecting nonsense... then pauses. She reads the first page, then the second, then slowly removes her glasses to read the third. "I’m proposing a new library wing," Cameron says softly. "Digital labs. Updated resources. Even vocational tools." "Fully funded," Simone adds. Mrs. Greer’s lips press together like she doesn’t want to smile. "This is more than generous." "It’s necessary," Cameron replies. "Your work sustains the future of the pack. I’m not trying to change your methods. I’m just trying to support them." Ha, never thought I’d see the day this happens. A smile on Greer’s face. * That’s five now. Mr. Kesari. Mrs. Greer. Nana. Aunt Linda. Mr. Maren. Each interaction still lingers in my mind. Nana was the easiest. She glanced at the blank check, snorted, and said, "Finally. I’m going to a beach where no one can find me. I’m getting my toes painted and drinking iced bloodwine with an umbrella in it." She cackled, folded the check, tucked it into her robe like she was storing away a spell, and then told Cameron he had good mating instincts. Linda teared up a little, but hid it well behind a scoff and an elbow jab. "About damn time someone realized pups aren’t quiet, clean angels." She’d always managed the pup shelters on fumes and prayer. The fact she was finally getting new walls, fresh beds, and maybe a food budget that didn’t rely on donated canned meat? Honestly, even I almost cried. And Mr. Maren... poor Mr. Maren. Big guy, calloused hands from doing half the work himself when budgets didn’t come through. He looked at the plans Cameron handed him, full blueprints and a partnership with a human engineering firm, and just— Cried. Real tears. Not even ashamed. "I thought I’d be buried under those cracked roads before they were ever fixed." He pulled Cameron into a full hug. Lifted him off the ground. I had to pry them apart because Simone looked like she was going to faint from panic. "Alright," Cameron says beside me now, adjusting his cuffs, "that’s five—six?" "Five," Simone confirms, checking her clipboard again. Cameron hums under his breath, but I catch the flicker in his eyes. He knows. The easy part’s over. Because those five—Nana, Maren, Aunt Linda, Kesari, and Greer—are part of my father’s old faction. The ones who supported me even when it put them at odds with Alric. They may have been surprised by Cameron, but they weren’t opposed to giving him a chance. But now? Now we walk into enemy territory. Except for Mr. Vane, the head of security—he’s neutral and too paranoid to be loyal to anyone but protocol. The rest of the remaining seven are Alric’s people, loyal to tradition, rigid to a fault, and notoriously resistant to change.