Chapter 46: Money is Everything

Tobias leaned against the wall, his dark eyes narrowing as he addressed the healer. "What do you mean by ’why,’ Lysander?"

Lysander’s gaze flicked to Tobias, his brows furrowed in confusion. " Why would anyone want anything from a skylur and especially the fangs? Skylurs are carriers of diseases, fever, rot, things that can wipe out a pack if they’re not handled right. I can’t imagine someone wanting those fangs unless they’re mad or desperate. It’s reckless."

Tobias shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the gravity of the topic. "Who cares? I’m only after the money. If someone wants to jerk off to a Skylur fang collection, let them, as long as it brings coins to the pack, I don’t care." He replied to Lysander.

Lysander’s brow furrowed, his frustration bubbling up. "Not everything’s about money, Tobias. We’re talking health, survival, things that can’t be bought with coins."

"Are you sure about that? Because I remember selling some of your herbs to people who were dying. That translates to health is money."

Lysander groaned. "That’s not what I mean. The skylur is a dangerous animal and we all know they only exist in Nirvana, if not for the fact that we’ve experimented with them..."

"You mean you’ve experimented," Ronan told him by Lysander ignored him and continued.

"...we wouldn’t even know the beginning of the diseases they carry. It’s dangerous."

Tobias shrugged. "I don’t care as long as it doesn’t affect us. Like I said, we just need the money, we have the resources, someone pays, we get the money, it’s a very simple transaction."

"And I’m telling you that sometimes money isn’t everything." Lysander told him.

Tobias’s lips twitched into a wry smile, his voice dropping further. "You’d think that, but the enclave proved otherwise. They offered people money to out us, our own allies sold us out for a handful of coins. If we’d had money back then, we wouldn’t have ended up in Nirvana, scraping by in the cold." His words carried a bitter edge, a memory of betrayal etched into every syllable.

Lysander scoffed, crossing his arms. "You know deep down money wouldn’t have protected us. It might’ve bought food, but it couldn’t shield us from the enclave’s blades or the blizzards that followed. Strength and unity did that."

Tobias fell silent, his gaze drifting to the floor. After a long pause, he muttered, "Maybe not fully, but it would’ve helped a bit."

When the enclave sent them out, they had nothing. There was only very little money, with no supplies. Most people died from starvation and the cold. They all had to build everything themselves, hunt, scavenge. Tobias’ father had died from the intense cold. His father was an expert trader, though he was the first to venture out, selling the rare herbs they found in Nirvana. Knowing the Enclave still had a warrant out for anyone belonging to the nightshade pack, he disguised himself and he was very good at it. He taught Tobias most things he knew but when he first started trading, the pack had not adapted as that had now. Things had been extremely difficult. His mother died after giving birth to him while his father just freezed to death while coming back from a trade.

If they had the money, all they would have done was to get some supplies. Maybe blankets and warm clothes to help them but instead they did everything themselves with frostbite taking off some people’s arms and legs. Tobias’ shook his head, there was no need to dwell on the past.

The atmosphere grew heavy, even Lysander knew there was a little truth in Tobias’ words.

Tobias may be young but he had an understanding of the hardest lives they’ve lived here. He was still very much a child when they came to Nirvana, a red faced child who had only just started to get used to his feet. At least for Lysander, he had lost his father when he was around twelve and he wasn’t really sad because to him, his father was never a good person. He wasn’t as loving as Daniel who argued with his son, Ronan but would also do anything for him.

Neither had he been like Alaric, Orion’s father who loved like it was an extension of him or Timothy, Tobias’ father who always hid the bad parts from his son ensuring the boy always saw him with a smile. When there was hardly any food, Timothy would ensure Tobias ate something even putting his own life at risk.

At least by the time they arrived in Nirvana, Lysander’s father was dead. People remembered his father as a good warrior, protecting the pack but he remembered him as a shitty dead. One who hit him numerous times just because he was into medicine. One who hit him numerous times because he was always spending the day at Brynhild’s home with her family or running about with Orion and Ronan who he was told to look after. One who hit him because he had gone with Orion to Victoria’s pack to get the herbs that would likely make them criminals.

Perhaps if they had the money, things would’ve been better but the enclave didn’t give them an opportunity to get the money and Lysander wasn’t mad that his father died but not everyone was him. And the money would have only helped when they were in Nirvana but that was the past. He shook his head, willing himself to forget especially because they were in a better place now.

Ronan, sensing the shift, cleared his throat, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Well, at least we’ve got Tobias’s trading skills now, maybe he can sell those Skylur fangs to the enclave and buy us a warm summer!" His joke fell flat, the tension unbroken, but his intent was clear.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Tobias’ asked him with a frown.

"No, it was an attempt on my life, of course it was a joke." Ronan replied.

"That was an attempt on my life." Lysander muttered dryly.

"Oh fuck off, I was just trying to lighten everything because our thoughts had deviated to something else." Ronan told them.

Before anyone could respond, a low groan rumbled from Orion’s cot, a sound that sliced through the silence like a blade. The three men froze, their breath catching in their throats, eyes locked on the alpha.

His chest heaved slightly, and there was a flicker of movement beneath his eyelids. The lantern’s light danced across his pale face, and everyone in the room except Orion, held their breath.