Council issues
1939 Words
_Cyric’s POV_
The door to my office was pushed open and Lyric waltzed in like he owned the place. One look at his face and I could tell how the meeting with the council had gone.
His fists were clenched and a scowl remained permanent on his face as he dropped on the couch in the room.
A smirk materialized on my face in both satisfaction and relief. “Tell me,” I urged, refusing to miss out on such a wonderful opportunity to taunt my brother.
“Not a word from you,” Lyric growled, disgust latched on his face. “Those oldies actually scolded me. Me! Alpha of Blackthorn Pack. What the f**k?” He also lost his cool.
“Tell me about it?” I pushed everything aside, giving my brother all my attention while I fought hard to stifle a laughter. Each time he came around, I was bound to break one of my many rules that involved no laughter at work.
The door opened before he could say anything and my assistant, Veronica, poked her head in, “Uhm, Alpha. Your meeting starts in five minutes.” She said sweetly to me, a smile on her face as she caught sight of Lyric.
I opened my mouth to shoo her away, but Lyric beat me to it in his no nonsense tone. “Veronica?”
“Yes, Alpha Lyric?”
“Kindly f**k off.”
Veronica scowled, but she nodded, stuffing her laptop under her armpit and shutting the door behind her.
The moment the little leech left the room, Lyric’s grunt turned into a full blown growl.
“The council asked that my club and hotel be shut down as soon as possible.”
I raised a brow in confusion. The council?
“Why?” I could already guess the answer.
“Apparently, they hated that I didn’t get their signatures before I built my base. Well you can’t blame me, I did try to get it, but those men were nowhere to be seen at that time. Not to talk of these buildings lasting for three years already. Couldn’t they have asked for something else?”
I leaned back in my chair, watching my twin brother pace around like a caged animal. His tattoos seemed to ripple with each agitated movement, and I couldn’t help but find the whole situation amusing. “So what exactly did they say?”
“They said,” Lyric mimicked an old man’s voice, making his tone all shaky and dramatic, “‘Young Alpha, you cannot simply build establishments without proper council approval. This is most irregular.’Irregular my ass.” He ran a hand through his long hair, letting it loose.
I chuckled despite myself. “You realize you’re partly to blame for this mess, right?”
“How the hell am I to blame?” He whirled around to face me, his eyes blazing.
“You built a nightclub and hotel without asking anyone. What did you think would happen?”
“I thought they’d be grateful. Those places bring in money for the pack. Tourism, jobs, revenue. But no, they’re more concerned about their precious signatures on some dusty papers.”
The door burst open again, and Warren stumbled in, looking like he’d been running. His usually neat appearance was disheveled, and he was breathing hard.
“Warren,” I acknowledged with a nod. “Perfect timing. Lyric’s having a meltdown.”
“I am not having a meltdown.” Lyric protested with a deep growl, though his voice cracked slightly.
Warren collapsed into the chair across from my desk, loosening his tie. “Let me guess. The council meeting didn’t go well?”
“That’s the understatement of the century,” Lyric muttered, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. “They want to shut everything down. Three years, Warren. Three f*****g years those places have been running smoothly, and now they decide to have a problem with it.”
Warren rubbed his temples. “Okay, let’s think about this logically. Maybe we can find a way to fix it. Former Luna Erika, she might help. So approach your mother. She has connections with some of the older council members.”
“Mom’s not here,” I reminded him in a flat tone. “She’s in Valdoria Springs, remember?”
“What’s she doing there anyway?” Lyric asked, suddenly curious. “That place costs more per night than most people make in a month.”
“She said she’s meditating,” Warren replied with a straight face.
I snorted. “Mother doesn’t meditate. The woman can’t sit still for five minutes without reorganizing something or giving someone unsolicited advice.”
“Maybe she’s having a midlife crisis?” Lyric shrugged. “Rich women do that, right? Go to expensive places and pretend to find themselves?”
“Our mother is too practical for a midlife crisis,” I said. “She’s probably there networking with other wealthy women while getting spa treatments.”
Warren cleared his throat. “Getting back to the problem at hand, what exactly are your options, Lyric?”
Lyric’s face brightened suddenly, and I immediately became suspicious. That look never meant anything good.
“Maybe I need to pay those council members a visit, one after the other. Groveling might just do the trick and get them off my backs.”
“Absolutely not,” Warren and I said in unison.
“Why not? I can be charming when I want to be.”
Warren looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Lyric, your idea of charm is intimidation with a smile.” Warren sighed heavily.
“Look, whatever mess you make with the council is Warren’s to clean up, Lyric. I can’t help fixing everything.” I told them directly. I had a lot to deal with already, I couldn't afford to add his problems to mine.
Warren’s face fell in both disappointment and exhaustion. “I’m not Superman, you know.”
I leaned forward, my voice taking on a more serious tone. “As beta of this pack, you should be.”
“That’s not fair, Cyric. You and Lyric create chaos, and I’m expected to wave a magic wand and make it all better all the time.” he grumbled.
“We don’t create that much chaos,” Lyric defended weakly.
Warren gave him a look that could melt steel. “Last month alone, you started a fight with the Moonridge Pack over a poker game, Cyric here decided to renovate half the pack house without telling anyone, and somehow you both ended up on the evening news for ‘mysterious large dog sightings’ in the city.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds bad,” I admitted. Even my wolf admitted it.
“Because it is bad!” Warren glared at me without an ounce of fear.
Lyric suddenly perked up. “What about Zara? Think she could help?”
“Our sister is twenty-one and currently more interested in her art classes than pack politics,” I reminded him.
“Right, and she’s still mad at you for accidentally destroying her sculpture before you visited the main mansion three weeks ago,” Warren added.
“That was an accident. How was I supposed to know it wasn’t a weird coat rack? Plus, Zara can’t be mad at me for three whole weeks.”
“It was clearly labeled ‘Work in Progress - Do Not Touch,’” Warren said dryly. “And Zara happens to hold grudges too.”
“I don’t read signs,” Lyric shrugged.
“We know,” Warren and I replied together. Again. This was exactly what I meant when I said Lyric was trouble. He was a walking headache.
“What about Devon?” Lyric asked hopefully. “He’s good with people.”
“Our twenty-four-year-old brother is currently dealing with his own drama. Something about his boyfriend’s ex showing up unexpectedly,” I said.
“Again?” Warren asked. “Didn’t that happen last month too?”
“Devon attracts complicated relationships like a magnet,” I explained. “It’s a gift.”
“More like a curse,” Lyric muttered. “His ‘gay’ is disgusting.”
Warren looked between us with growing horror. “Your family is insane. How am I the only normal one here?”
“You’re not normal,” Lyric protested. “Normal people don’t organize their sock drawer by color and thread count.”
“That’s called being organized.”
“That’s called being obsessive-compulsive,” I corrected.
Warren opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. “You know what? I’m not having this conversation again.”
Lyric suddenly sat up straighter. “Wait, I have an idea. What if we throw a party?”
“How does throwing a party solve your council problem?” I asked, already dreading the answer.
“Simple. We invite the council members, get them drunk and happy, then casually mention how great the club and hotel are for the pack’s economy.”
Warren stared at him. “That’s… actually not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“My ideas are always brilliant.”
Warren stood up, straightening his tie. “I need coffee. Or alcohol. Probably both.” He headed toward the door, then paused. “Try not to declare war on anyone while I’m gone.”
“No promises, Warry.” Lyric called after him.
“Don’t f*****g call me that.” Warren groaned before storming off.
After Warren left, the office fell into a comfortable silence. I watched my brother fidget with his phone, his earlier anger having transformed into restless energy.
“You know,” I said finally, “there might be another way to handle this.”
Lyric looked up hopefully. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve groveling.”
“What if we approach this differently? Instead of fighting the council’s decision, we work with them. Show them the benefits, get proper permits, make everything official.”
“That sounds like a lot of paperwork.”
“Everything worthwhile involves paperwork, Lyric.”
He groaned. “I hate paperwork. Can’t we just threaten them with our superior Alpha abilities?”
“That’s exactly the kind of thinking that got you into this mess.”
“Fine. But I want something in return.”
“What?” Don’t say yacht.
“A yacht.”
Damn it.
Before I could protest further, Warren returned with three cups of coffee. “Please tell me you two haven’t started World War Three while I was gone.”
“Just a minor territorial dispute,” I assured him, accepting my coffee gratefully.
“Over what now?”
“Yachts,” Lyric explained unhelpfully.
Warren looked at us both, then sat down heavily. “I need a vacation.”
“You can go with Mom to Valdoria Springs,” I suggested. “Learn to meditate.”
“At this point, meditation might be the only thing that keeps me sane.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping our coffee and each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Lyric spoke up.
“You know what we haven’t talked about in a while?”
Warren and I exchanged glances. When Lyric got that thoughtful tone, it usually meant trouble, but sometimes it meant he was about to bring up something important.
“What’s that?” I asked cautiously.
Lyric set down his coffee cup and looked at me seriously. “Let’s talk about Kael, our mate.”
- Writer
