From Ashes to Alpha

Morgan raises a hand, his expression hardening. "Enough, Riggs. I invited him because he's familiar with Gray Pack's operational patterns."

"And how exactly would a lone wolf know about pack tactics?" Riggs challenges, leaning forward. "Unless he's feeding information to both sides?"

Daniel steps closer to my chair, a subtle but clear indication of his support. "James delivered sensitive cargo through Gray territory when three of our veteran couriers failed.

He outmaneuvered Enforcers and made the delivery on time. His actions speak for themselves."

A younger man with a trimmed beard leans forward. "Enforcers? Why would they interfere with our operations?"

"That's a question for another time," Morgan interrupts decisively. "Our purpose tonight is to formulate a response, not engage in internal squabbles. Gray Pack has attacked three of our strongholds and killed five members. We need to answer."

He turns to me directly. "James, you crossed through their eastern territory recently. What did you observe about their patrol patterns?"

All eyes shift to me, expectant and evaluating. It's a test, carefully crafted by Morgan. My response will determine whether I leave this room with new allies or new enemies.

"They've doubled their border patrols," I begin, keeping my voice even. "But they're understaffed at the river crossing near Camden Street. Their surveillance equipment is primarily focused on the main roads, leaving the forest paths relatively unmonitored."

I lean forward slightly, addressing the entire table. "More importantly, they're recruiting. Heavily. I counted at least seven new members during my passage—young, inexperienced, but eager to prove themselves."

Victoria narrows her eyes. "How can you be certain they were new recruits?"

"Their scent markers were inconsistent," I explain. "Established pack members maintain a uniform territorial marking. These were chaotic, overlapping—classic signs of newcomers trying to establish position."

Riggs scoffs. "Scent analysis from a passing courier? That's what we're basing our strategy on?"

I meet his gaze directly. "My family may have discarded me, Riggs, but they trained me first. I was tracking pack movements before I could shift."

A moment of tense silence follows before an older man with salt-and-pepper hair nods slowly. "The Davis family were renowned trackers before their... decline. Even a runt would have basic training."

"Precisely why James is valuable," Morgan interjects smoothly. "He understands both worlds—the structured hierarchy of traditional packs and the fluid dynamics of our organization."

Riggs leans back, clearly unsatisfied but momentarily silenced. Daniel slides into the seat beside me, a subtle nod communicating his approval of my handling of the situation.

Morgan stands, commanding the room's attention. "Now, to business. Gray Pack's aggression cannot go unanswered, but we must be strategic. A direct assault would play to their strengths—they outnumber us and thrive in conventional warfare."

He points to one of the digital maps. "Based on James's intelligence about their river crossing vulnerability, I propose a precision strike. We hit their supply line at Camden, disrupt their resource flow without directly engaging their fighters."

"And if they retaliate?" a woman with short-cropped hair questions.

"They will," Morgan acknowledges. "But on terrain of our choosing, not theirs."

The discussion evolves into tactical planning, with various members offering suggestions and resources. Throughout, I notice Riggs watching me, his scarred face unreadable but his hostility unmistakable.

During a brief lull in the conversation, he speaks again. "One question remains unanswered. Why would Enforcers target our courier? What was in that package, Morgan?"

The atmosphere changes instantly, a current of tension rippling through the room. All eyes turn to Morgan, whose expression remains carefully neutral.

"The contents of the package are classified," Morgan replies smoothly. "Suffice to say, it was valuable enough to warrant extraordinary measures for its delivery."

"Valuable to whom?" Riggs presses. "The Jones family doesn't involve themselves in petty territorial disputes. If they're moving against us, we deserve to know why."

Morgan's gaze hardens. "They're not moving against us, Riggs. They were moving against the courier."

All eyes shift to me.

"Care to explain that, boy?" Riggs demands.

I meet Morgan's eyes briefly, uncertain how much I should reveal. His slight nod gives me permission to speak.

"I have a... complicated history with the Jones family," I admit, choosing my words carefully. "The enforcers were likely targeting me personally, not the package."

Victoria leans forward. "What kind of history could a lone wolf possibly have with one of the three founding families?"

Before I can respond, Morgan interjects. "That's precisely why James is here tonight. His unique position offers us insights and opportunities we wouldn't otherwise have." He smiles thinly. "Now, shall we return to the matter at hand? Gray Pack won't defeat itself while we discuss ancient history."

The meeting continues for another hour, with plans formalized and responsibilities assigned. I'm tasked with mapping the Camden approach routes, working directly with Daniel and a tactical team.

As the gathering concludes, members begin to disperse in small groups. Morgan gestures for me to remain behind.

When only Morgan, Daniel, and I remain, the atmosphere shifts again.

"You handled yourself well," Morgan comments, removing his suit jacket and loosening his tie. "Riggs was testing you."

"I noticed," I reply dryly.

Morgan's eyes narrow slightly. "Be careful with him. He lost his son to a Jones enforcer ten years ago. His hatred runs deep."

"Is that why you seated me away from him?"

A small smile crosses Morgan's face. "I seated you near me to make a statement, James. But yes, keeping you separated from Riggs was a consideration."

Daniel pours three glasses of amber liquid from a decanter. "You've been officially introduced to the inner circle now. There's no going back."

I accept the offered glass. "Was there ever a path back?"

"No," Morgan admits bluntly. "Not since you accepted the delivery job." He studies me over the rim of his glass. "Speaking of which, did you open the case Dominic gave you?"

The question catches me off guard. "Not yet."

"Interesting." Morgan exchanges a glance with Daniel. "Most would have opened it immediately."

"I've learned to be cautious about unexpected gifts," I reply.

Morgan laughs, the sound genuine despite the circumstances. "A wise policy." He finishes his drink and sets the glass down with finality. "Open it tonight, James. What's inside is rightfully yours—something that might help you understand your place in the larger game."

"And what game is that, exactly?"

Morgan's expression turns serious. "One that's been played for centuries between the old families and those of us who refuse to bow to their antiquated hierarchy."

He steps closer. "The Jones family isn't pursuing you because of some petty grudge. They're afraid of what you represent."

"Which is?"

"Change," Morgan answers simply. "Now go home, open the case, and get some rest. Tomorrow, we begin planning for Camden."