She’s right. We don’t have a choice. We fight.
“Okay,” I say. “What’s the plan?”
“We split up,” Saramaria says. “Rhett, you take the electrical box. Make sure it looks new. Knox, you take the barn. Tarps off. Tools away. Make it look structurally sound. Boone, you takethe yard. Move the lumber. Hide the trash. Make it look like a functioning work site, not a junkyard.”
“If we work on this all night, I think we can get it done,” I say.
I thank West for the heads up and then sprint to the back of the house. I have an electrical box to fix.
We have a home to save.
Our home.
And this time, we’re working together as a team. A pack.
Saramaria
Iwake up feeling like I’m going to vomit.
It’s not the heat this time. It’s the dread. It’s a heavy, cold rock sitting in the pit of my stomach that no amount of deep breathing can dislodge. The sun is pouring through the windows, bright and mocking. It’s inspection day.
I drag myself out of bed. My legs feel like lead. I wander into the kitchen.
Boone is at the stove. He’s wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his back to me. Bacon sizzles in a cast iron skillet, the scent filling the room. It’s a smell that should remind me of breakfast, but right now, it just reminds me of the judgment coming our way.
“Eggs?” he asks without turning. He hears my boots on the floor.
“I can’t eat,” I mutter.
“You need to eat,” he says. He slides a plate onto the table. “You’ll need the energy. We stayed up pretty late last night.”
I sit down, staring at the eggs. I can’t do this.
Knox walks in from the living room, carrying a mug of coffee. He sets it down in front of me.
“Two sugars,” he says. “Splash of cream.”
I look up at him. “How did you know?”
“I watch you,” he says simply. “Every morning.”
I take a sip. It’s perfect. Exactly how I like it. The warmth spreads through my chest, fighting off the chill of the dread.
Rhett appears in the doorway. He’s holding a clipboard.
“Checklist,” he says as he hands it to me.
I scan it.
Barn roof tarps removed: Check.Tools hidden in the shed: Check.Electrical box door secured with a zip tie: Check.Lumber stack covered with a blue tarp: Check.
“We’re ready,” Rhett says. “We just have to act like we’re ahead of schedule. We’re making progress.
“Okay,” I say. I take a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
At 10:00 a.m., the gray sedan pulls into the driveway.
A man in a county uniform steps out. He’s a Beta with a thin mouth and a clipboard. He looks like he has seen too many dilapidated farms and not enough compliant owners.
