Part 25

(POV - Marcus)

Three whole weeks had passed since Aria had helped Marcus through his rut, and in all that time, not an hour had passed where he hadn't thought about her.

It had interfered with his work and gotten in the way of his responsibilities, distracting him from his duties so much that Jaden had once again stepped in to help him stay focused.

He'd found himself staring at the door of his office for the fourth time in an hour when Jaden spoke up, breaking him from yet another string of thoughts surrounding Aria.

"This is getting kind of bad, Marc," Jaden said, standing in front of him quietly and keeping his eyes ahead. Marcus didn't look up, just grunted to acknowledge his presence. "Are you sure you don't want to go and see her?"

"I can't," he sighed, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck. "She's not mine to see."

"And you don't think you'll ever see her again, right?"

Marcus shook his head solemnly. He'd known the minute he woke up, and she was gone, without so much as a note or her phone number, that there was a very slim chance he'd ever see her again. And maybe it was for the best, but after three weeks of torturous visions cruelly produced by his mind, he was beginning to lose his grip on reality.

"Maybe we should go for a run," Jaden suggested. "A real run. We haven't done that in months. Maybe it'll help clear your mind. Even if it's just a little bit."

Marcus mulled it over. They hadn't been on a run in ages. With all the pack politics and Marcus' impending rut, they'd ended up putting their weekly runs on the back burner to try and get through everything else that was going on.

He felt awful because he wanted to go alone.

"I think I need to go for a run," he said, clearing the thickness from his voice. "But I think I'd prefer to go alone, just this once."

Without any hesitation or a hint of dissatisfaction, Jaden nodded, reaching forward and patting his friend on the back before turning around and heading for the door.

"Take however long you need," he said, stretching his neck out. "I'll hold down the fort until you get back. Just make sure you come back with a clearer head."

He left Marcus in his office, and Marcus heard him greet a few passing wolves in the otherwise empty hallway outside.

Marcus stared at the few sheets of paper scattered across his desk. He knew he needed to run, and the piles of documents on his desk wouldn't disappear unless he could focus and actually run through them.

Huffing, he stood out of his chair, shedding his hoodie and toeing off his sneakers and socks. He walked out into the cool evening air and took a long, deep breath. It filled his lungs with the scent of pine and rain and settled his racing thoughts.

He waited until he was at least a mile away from the packhouse before he shifted, trudging through the mud and mulch with his bare feet. He didn't shiver, thanking his lupine biology for keeping his body temperature above human average.

Once he'd shifted, his wolf shook out his fur in content, stretching his legs and pawing at the wet soil beneath him. It had been too long since he'd been able to enjoy himself in his wolf form.

Casting his senses out to make sure he was completely alone, he dove headlong into a sprint, forcing his limbs to their limits. He easily cleared hundreds of feet with every stride, his lungs taking in more and more air until he could finally breathe.

But he couldn't shake the memories of Aria, of those three days of bliss, spent happily losing himself in everything about her. He could still smell her, even after three weeks. Her scent clung to his skin, to the clothes that she'd touched and the sheets they'd rolled around in. He may have just been overly sensitive, holding onto her with every subconscious thought.

And no matter how far he ran, he couldn't outrun her. The cool air dragged icy claws along the inside of his lungs, turning painful. He ran and ran until his paws went numb and his legs threatened to give out. He realized he'd circled his own territory and ended up at the one place he'd sworn to avoid for the rest of his life.

His chest heaving and aching, he looked up at his old house, a dense, cold shroud of darkness still hanging over it even after five years.

A lump of ice slid into his stomach as he recalled the night of her death, the scent of all that blood still fresh in his memory.

The image of her still body laying on their bed, her face drained of color, of life, with their stillborn son curled into her side carved new wounds into his tattered heart. He could still vividly recall the way his entire body had buckled under the weight of the bond snapping, and in that second, he felt every bit of pain she had before she died.

And even though he knew that she had died before the rogue wolf had broken into their home, his blood still boiled at the thought of that scum anywhere near his family. And he hated what the loss of that family had turned him into.

Jaden had been the one to find him once the Beta had secured the perimeter and checked on the members of their pack that had been injured in the attack. He'd been so, so careful when he entered the room, even going so far as to shift back to his human form, something that could have gotten him killed.

As clear as day, Marcus heard his best friend's voice like he was standing right there.

"Marcus," he'd said, staying near the door with his head low, eyes glued to the ground. Marcus hadn't seen much else, only growled and curled his body around his dead mate and son protectively, as if he could shield them from more danger.

"Marc," he pleaded, taking a small, slow step forward. "Please shift back so we can talk about this."

Marcus howled, a sound full of crushing, soul-deep sorrow, and it brought tears to Jaden's eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, the tears flowing freely. "I should have been here while you were hunting them down. I should have sensed that something was wrong. I'm so sorry, Luna."

And it was that, his apology to his dead Luna, that loosened his grip on his wolf. He'd shifted back, Helena's skin icy to the touch and his chest cracked. He didn't want to look at her or their son. He wanted to disappear into the darkness.

"Marc," Jaden whispered, and Marcus turned around in time to see his Beta's eyes widen at the carnage on the ground. He knew in an instant that Jaden would have picked out which fatal wounds had been dealt by the rogue and which had been dealt by Marc.

And the marks that had shredded through the doctor's son's neck were no doubt Marcus' doing.

"I'll get Mercucio," he said, keeping any of the troubling thoughts he must have had to himself. "Please, don't do anything stupid until I get back."

And he hadn't. He'd stayed on the bed, whining softly through the pain, unable to speak or even open his eyes. A part of him had wished his soul would leave his body and join his family. He hoped that the pain would be the end of him, and he wouldn't have to face his life alone.

But he hadn't been that lucky, and Jaden had returned a little while after with Mercucio in tow, who looked a little worse for wear compared to Jaden.

They hadn't said much, just rolled their tattered sleeves up and started cleaning what they could, giving their medical wolves the proper burials while Marcus grieved.

They'd removed the body of the doctor's adopted son before Marcus could see the extent of the damage he'd done. He'd known back then that it would haunt him forever.

Marcus had always wondered where they had buried the son, too ashamed to seek his grave out in the pack cemetery.

He swallowed a choked sob and looked up at the window to their bedroom, his heart almost stopping when he saw Helena standing there, their son in her arms. She raised a hand and waved down at him, gently lifting their son's hand as well and waving it with a beautiful smile on her face. The vision broke him immeasurably.

He tripped over his heavy paws in his haste to get away, as far away as he could, shifting mid stride and running full tilt back into the forest. The pain he'd lived with all those years clawed up his throat and he found himself at the edge of a familiar cliff, his sanctuary that overlooked the ocean.

At the very edge stood two headstones, handcrafted by Marcus himself for his mate and his son. They hadn't been buried in the pack cemetery. Selfishly, Marcus had wanted to mourn them in peace, away from the pitying eyes of his packmates.

He'd visited them on very rare occasions, like this one, where he had blindly followed his instincts and allowed his guilt to steer him wherever it saw fit. It didn't always bring him to the site of their graves, but sometimes, it was like he knew that he needed to be close to them. The guilt of having taken Aria to bed ate at his insides. He silently begged Helena for the forgiveness he knew he would never deserve.

He lay down on the soft grass in front of their headstones and drifted into a fitful sleep, his nightmares full of Helena's screams and the smell of her blood.