JASON Mariaâs angry and yelling. Her hands are fisted and sheâs actually stomping her foot. I have to say, I havenât seen an actual foot-stomp outside of kids taking a tantrum when they donât want to go home at the end of a pack holiday.
Finally, she storms off with Mia following her.
The car sits there. Windows shattered. Doors dented. It looks like itâs been hit with a Mac Truck.
âWowâ¦I wonder what happened?â Grace says.
I shrug.
I guide Grace toward the bus stop.
âWell, it's none of our business anyway,â she tells me.
âYouâre very calm considering how she treated you. I thought youâd be more pleased.â
Now she shrugs. âWhy? i donât wish bad on anyone.â
âEven people who have wronged you?â
âMaria was rude to me. Sure. But that doesnât mean I wish her harm. If prison taught me anything, itâs that there are stories and reasons hiding beneath everybody.â
âIs that right?â I ask.
She glances at her feet. âWellâ¦Iâm not sure bad people are âborn.â I kind of think theyâre made. Like we are all just in this life, dealing with the things that happen to us and the cards we are dealt. Maybe Maria hasnât had an easy life.â
This womanâ¦
âItâs noble of you to make allowances. But people have to be responsible for their own actions. A tough life is not an excuse to abuse somebody else.â
She nods. âYouâre right.â She looks up with a hint of a smile. âThe things she said to you made me soo angry.â
âSo maybe you found it a little satisfying when she was freaking out over the car?â
She blushes. âMaybe a little. But really⦠isnât it sad that her sense of worth is derived from a vehicle?! I mean, she was trying to tempt you to break up with me because of her car. Like you would be that shallow.â She realizes what sheâs said and her mouth opens and closes like a fish. âNot that we are dating or anything!â
I find myself wanting to smile.
This woman is amusingâ¦
I nudge her and she blushes more.
âHave you always been such a pacifist?â
She makes a noise that sounds like a snort. âNo. Avaâ¦my wolf⦠she has a temper.â
âSo does mine.â
âI never wouldâve guessed that,â she says mildly.
As an Alpha, I have to be strong. Objective.
Ruthless in war, business, whatever way will ensure the survival and success of my pack and species.
We walk toward the bus stop. I have the inexpensive phone in my pocket andâ¦it pleases me. When we get home, I think Iâll go and buy some good cuts of beef for Grace. Sheâs a very good cook with simple ingredients and I suspect sheâll turn out even more amazing meals with some better quality meats.
Grace is smiling up at me and I catch myself grinning back. Then thereâs a flash of movement behind her that catches my eye.
My wolf is instantly at attention.
I freeze.
âWhatâs wrong? Jay, are you okay?â
I shake my head to clear it.
âYou look like you saw a ghost.â
My gaze cuts to her swiftly. Sheâs not wrongâ¦
The woman who stepped off the bus and disappeared into the market crowdâ¦she looked too much like the woman whoâd deserted her Alpha and son.
My wolf snarls inside me.
Surely, I must be mistaken.
***
Grace frowns at me as we get ready for bed. She doesnât pry and I appreciate that. I donât talk about that part of my life⦠ever.
Even my beta knows better than to bring it up.
I mark the anniversary and thatâs it.
She doesnât merit any more than that for what sheâs done.
âThank you for the phone,â I tell Grace and force a smile for her benefit.
Her smile wobbles a bit, but she nods. Itâs obvious sheâs worried about me.
But Iâm fine.
And I donât need herâor anyone elseâworrying about me or digging at scars.
At least this woman has enough sense to know when to leave me alone.
Most nights she argues with me to sleep in the bed. Saying we should âswapâ so itâs fair. She never offers to share her bed. And part of me is waiting for that invitation.
Though I havenât decided just how far I intend to take this particular game.
âYou should go run,â she says quietly.
My wolf is pacing beneath my skin and Iâm in a ⦠mood. Sheâs not wrong. If I shift into my true form for a while, itâll go a long way in dispelling the unsettled way I feel.
âGoodnight, sister.â
Sheâs tense and wants to say more. But after a long, long pause, she says softly, âgoodnight.â
I close my eyes and breathe deeply.
I can mark the exact moment that Grace drifts off to sleep. Her breathing evens out and her respiration slows.
Sleep evades me.
Jagged pieces of memories float through my mind.
My father teaching me to hunt. To fight. To channel my will to my packmates.
Bits of wisdom. Warnings.
The night he sat me down in the library and told me, âJason, don't follow in my footsteps. Even if you were to fall for a woman, don't love her wholeheartedly.â
My father was broken by then.
Heâd mated my mother and when she broke that bond⦠he was never the same again.
I blink and try to make sense of my surroundings. Iâm in the pack mansion but the wall color is different and its cold.
There is a crib.
My wolf is growling inside me. He paces in mind like heâs trapped in a cage.
The dark-haired woman stormed out the door and father followed. He had to catch her. He couldnât let her leave.
âJason, I'm leaving. I don't want to hear your father telling me how much he loves me and is yet unable to give me the kind of life I want! I've already done my best."
"Who's that, who's talking to me now?"
"Don't...go..."
Who's that talking now? Oh, it's me. Begging the woman. If she leaves, my father will...
"Don't go! Don't go!" I struggle to catch hold of her, but itâs like trying to catch the wind.
I wake up thrashing.
I have shifted, my claws are extended and they rake across something.
Thereâs a scream.
Grace.