If they hadn't pushed me this far, I would have kept my dignity intact.
But leaving with nothing? That was the one thing I couldn't accept. My parents were in poor health, dependent on expensive healer tinctures and suppressants.
Ronan's eyes went bloodshot at my words, his wolf rising close to the surface.
"It's not leaving with nothing. I'm giving you a hundred thousand gold-marks."
"That's all you're getting. If we're talking about building this territory from nothing, I'm the one who did the real work."
I stared at him, stunned.
He was comparing labor with me?
We were in the den-restoration trade.
When we first started our small crew, we'd gone to clients' dens ourselves—measuring chambers, reinforcing walls with our own claws, hauling heavy stone and timber.
Sure, he was stronger in his shifted form. He'd done more of the physical work.
But I'd handled everything else. Running to the market stalls at dawn, cooking every meal over the fire pit, keeping us fed and functioning through harsh winters.
And now, today, it had become his hard work that mattered—implying I'd contributed nothing.
My voice tore out of me: "Ronan, you're disgusting."