Chapter 3: Black Moon Pack

Rosette’s POV

Making lunch for about a hundred people, werewolves, is not easy. Especially when they demand meat day in and day out. There are ways to make the plant-based foods to taste like actual meat, including tofu and other vegetables, but they always complain that they want real meat. While the Luna was still alive she would tell everyone to suck it up and get used to what they are eating, seeing as no alternatives have been created yet. With her gone, hunting parties have started up again, but they never seem to catch anything, realizing that animals haven’t come this far into the forest.

It also isn’t easy when almost all of the crops that grow end up dying within a few days of sprouting due to the so-called farmers neglecting them. When the Luna was still alive, she would take care of them, as well as straighten out the farmers. Since her passing I have been taking care of the crops in between any breaks, if I have any, in my busy schedule. The crops that I grow, with so little resources as the farmers get the majority, seem to do well. While there aren’t as many of them, they seem to be able to feed the pack for a small while until more grow.

I snap out of my thoughts when I hear a bang come from behind me. I look over my shoulder to see my pack’s Beta, Frankfort McCormick, standing in the doorway to the dining room and kitchen. I turn to him, my head bowed low to show submission.

“Are you almost done?” he demands. “We have been waiting for almost fifteen minutes, b*tch. Get the food out to the table, now!” He spins around and storms into the dining room, the swinging door dividing the kitchen and the dining room moving like a pendulum. I swirl around, getting the rest of the vegetables in their proper plates before grabbing a tray to carry all of the plates out, knowing that it will take me about two to three trips. I used to have a cart that had multiple trays that I would place all of the plates on, but one of the pack members decided to use it to go surfing down the stairs a month ago, breaking it to pieces.

I put the first set of plates on the tray, making sure that all of the plates won’t move before I twist myself around, my front facing the stove, using my back to push the swinging door open. Once in the room, I spin on my heels slowly, making sure nothing moves on the tray, walking over to the first dining room table. Each table is meant to hold a hundred people, so there are five, in total, set up. If there are guests, which we never have, there is a sixth one that is able to break down and be put away until it is needed.

I place the tray down, picking up and putting down plates full of plant-based meats and other vegetables on the table, not once looking at the people in the chairs. I check to make sure that the right amount of each item being served is on the table before moving to the next table, so on and so forth until I have to go back into the kitchen for the second, and final, trip. I go to leave, but a booming voice stops me.

“Get over here, c*nt,” the Alpha, Daniel Powell, yells. I scurry over, my head tilting down at his tone. “Where the f*ck is the meat?”

“I-I’m s-sorry, A-Alpha,” I stutter, fear lacing my voice. “N-none o-of t-the h-hunters h-have f-found a-animals y-yet.”

“Is that so?” he slams his hands on the table, standing from his chair. He comes over to me, yanking my hair, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Or is it that you don’t want to be serving us actual meat, sticking with what the king leech demanded?” He slams my head on the table, causing pain to shoot through my temple, but I keep my mouth shut. I won’t allow them to see or hear me in pain, it will just cause me more pain and suffering. “Get me some actual meat, you damn slut!”

“Y-yes, A-Alpha,” I whimper, getting off of the floor and dashing into the kitchen. I search around, trying to find any meat, but I can’t seem to find any. All that is left is a note where I had meat left laying out for dinner. I pick up the note, my body shaking in unadulterated fear. I amble back into the dining room, after writing a quick note so that the handwriting can be compared.

“What are you doing back in here with f*cking paper?!” he bellows. He takes the original note out of my hand. “‘I stole the meat and put it outside. Good luck getting out of this, whore.’ Is this some kind of joke?” I shake my head, lowering it in despair. “Give me the other note.” I hand it over. “‘Wheat, corn, barley, green beans.’ This is a list of things in the garden. What the f*ck is this?”

“The first one is where I had the meat for dinner thawing out,” I inform, not allowing myself to stutter. “The second one is the list of crops that are going into this rotation. I have to figure out meals based on them.”

“That is no excuse,” he says, anger lacing his tone. “Find me some damn meat and get it cooking. If not, your punishment will be to have my initials carved into your skin, showing everyone that you are mine.” I squeak, reeling backwards and towards the kitchen.

It takes fifteen minutes, but I have located some meat and cooked it, making sure that there is enough for everyone as well. I run back into the dining room, placing plates of the meat down on the tables as I go. Before reentering the kitchen, a member of the pack comes in with the mail, causing me to be beckoned over by Alpha Powell.

“Get the meeting hall ready,” he informs me, a hint of happiness in his voice. “We are to have a meeting tonight. Once you are done with that, get the rest of your chores down, Omega. We don’t want you to have to get whipped or my initials carved into you, do you?”

“Y-yes, A-Alpha,” I submit, rushing away to the kitchen to drop off the tray before heading to the meeting hall.