The year of the famine, my aunt Luella Jenkins sent me to seek refuge with my intended mate, Ryan Johnson, a high-ranking Alpha from the Johnson Pack.
Ryan looked down on me the moment I arrived, his sharp eyes scanning my tattered clothes. He pointed to an empty candy jar on the table, his Alpha tone dripping with disdain:
"The Johnson Pack doesn’t have the funds to host a mark ceremony for you.
When you’ve filled this jar with coins, then I’ll consider marking you as my mate."
Money was hard to come by.
For a year, I scrimped and saved. I washed clothes in freezing water during the winter and wove mats in the scorching summer. My hands were a patchwork of old and new wounds. Just as the jar was nearly full, my aunt told me there had been a mistake—it wasn’t the Johnsons I was promised to, but the Grahams.
When the Grahams’ car arrived to pick me up, Ryan wasn’t there. Jamari Pierce, one of Ryan’s Deltas, looked uneasy:
"The Grahams are struggling. You’ll probably go hungry if you join that pack.
The money for the car? Half of it was scraped together by Finnegan Graham from odd jobs, and the other half was donated by his packmates and mentor."
The car, though old, was clean and well-maintained, a clear sign of effort. I couldn’t help but smile as I climbed in, clutching my little jar of coins.
Jamari stepped in front of the car, trying to plead Ryan’s case:
"Just a few days ago, Alpha Ryan ordered red silk from the tailor and spent a fortune on a batch of fine wine from the city. It’s clear he was preparing to mark you as his mate."
When I didn’t respond, he pointed to the jar in my arms:
"Didn’t Alpha Ryan say he’d mark you as his mate once the jar was full?
Now that you’ve finally filled it, why are you leaving?"
I paused, thinking I might be acting a bit rash.
A year ago, when I first arrived at the Johnson Pack, it was dinner time.
I was thin and small, dressed in rags.
Afraid of being judged, I kept my head down, trying not to stare at the food on the table, though my mouth watered.
Ryan looked at me with disgust and nearly had Jamari throw me out, mistaking me for a beggar.
His father, however, scolded him, reminding him that the Johnsons had once been refugees themselves, saved by a kind soul who gave his grandfather a meal.
With a stern look, his father told me that the Johnsons wouldn’t forget their debt of gratitude.
But seeing Ryan’s sneer and his expensive silk clothes, I hesitated.
Maybe... maybe this arrangement wasn’t worth it. I’d rather exchange Ryan for a few loaves of bread.
Before I could speak, Ryan’s mocking voice cut through:
"I’ll mark you as my mate, but don’t expect my pack to host a lavish ceremony.
I’m not being unreasonable. Just fill this jar with coins, and I’ll mark you.
If you’re not up to it, that’s fine. The Johnson Pack doesn’t owe you a car or a ceremony."
His Alpha tone was full of scorn, as if I were a parasite trying to leech off his pack.
But he had me all wrong.
I wasn’t lazy or greedy.
I could wash, cook, weave, and sew. I was clever and hardworking, and I knew how to make a home.
Clutching the little jar, I looked Ryan in the eye and said, "It’s a deal."
I thought the jar would be easy to fill.
At first, I stayed up late for weeks, drawing embroidery patterns and making tassels, quickly building a layer of coins at the bottom.
But then Jamari took most of them.
When I went to ask him about it, I found the coins on Ryan’s table in the gazebo, where he was entertaining his packmates with drinks and music.
Jamari avoided my eyes, noticing the dark circles under them from my late nights:
"Alpha Ryan said... since you’re staying with the Johnsons, you need to cover your food, lodging, and even the cost of candles and paper."
Under the spring sun, Ryan leaned against the railing, sipping tea and looking at me with a smirk:
"Did you think you could live here for free, Alicia?
Or are you just that desperate to be marked as my mate?"
His packmates laughed, their eyes raking over me as they joined in his mockery:
"Alpha Ryan’s a catch. If I were a she-wolf, I’d work my tail off to earn a spot by his side.
Spring’s the season for love, after all."
Ryan’s mood lifted, and he pointed to the pile of coins I’d earned:
"Well said. Take this and buy yourselves a round of drinks."
As he handed out my hard-earned money, he watched me, waiting for anger or tears.
But he was wrong.
When my stubborn streak kicked in, I didn’t cry or argue. I just stood my ground:
"Alpha Ryan, if you’re going to charge me for every blade of grass and scrap of paper, at least give me an itemized bill.
I’m sure a high-ranking Alpha like you wouldn’t take advantage of his own intended mate."
After that, saving became much harder.
I washed clothes in icy water in the winter and wove mats in the summer.
My hands were always cut or bruised, but I bore the pain without complaint.
What stung more was the food at the Johnson Pack—fruits and pastries I’d never seen before, let alone tasted.
Ryan would take one bite and toss the rest, taunting me when he caught me looking:
"Alicia, I’ve met she-wolves like you before.
Lazy, greedy, and desperate to be marked by a wealthy Alpha, but pretending not to care."
His words burned me with shame.
When I lived with my aunt, I was used to going hungry, even after working all day.
Once, after a long day of cutting grass during the harvest, I came home to find no food left for me.
I stole half of my cousin’s cold cornbread, and my aunt berated me for three days, calling me a lazy, greedy insect.
I didn’t know how to argue with her.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I *was* lazy and greedy.
I wanted to stay with the Johnsons because I was tired of being cold and hungry.
I wanted warm food in the winter and cool drinks in the summer.
Maybe I *was* just dreaming of a better life.
Ten days ago, the jar was finally full, and it seemed my dreams were about to come true.
But then my room was robbed.
I knew exactly who the thief was—because only the top layer of coins was taken, leaving the rest untouched.
"Why didn’t you take it all?"
Ryan was lying in the garden, a book over his face, pretending to nap. He didn’t dare look at my red-rimmed eyes:
"Maybe the thief’s as greedy as you are. Who knows?"
Thinking I’d left, he peeked out from under the book and saw me sitting under the grapevine, clutching the jar and wiping my tears.
Guilty, he brought over a plate of pastries and tried to soothe me:
"Here, have these. No charge. Stop crying.
Who knows? Maybe the thief will think it over and return your money."
I ignored him, picked up the jar, and walked away without a word.
Jamari brought this up now, hoping to sway me with nostalgia:
"Alpha Ryan was supposed to take it all, but he hesitated and put most of it back, only taking a handful.
I think he’s already fallen for you, but he’s too proud to admit it.
That’s why he took your money—to buy himself more time to figure things out before he marked you as his mate."
When I didn’t respond, he added,
"The Grahams are struggling. They can’t even afford food. The car was rented with borrowed money."
But I didn’t care.
The car was clean, the cushions new, and the wind chimes on the corners tinkled as if speaking for Finnegan Graham.
I smiled and climbed in, clutching my little jar of coins.
Jamari looked desperate:
"What do I tell Alpha Ryan when he gets back?"
I glanced at the jar and the tinkling chimes, then smiled:
"Tell him Alicia Graham is too greedy and ran off for a prettier car."
