30. Quinn
QUINN
T he morning sun spills across the quiet street as I step out of Sterling’s house, pulling the door shut behind us.
The air is crisp and salt laden, the kind of early autumn chill that hasn’t quite settled into winter yet. Sterling lingers beside me, absently pulling her sleeves over her hands, her hair down and a mustard-colored beanie on her head, her soft waves catching the sunlight.
She looks…content.
For the first time in weeks, I see her without the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her shoulders. And fuck if that doesn’t do something to my chest. A perpetual blush colors her cheeks.
I reach for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. Her hands warm, and it makes my heart beat faster.
She glances up, surprised, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezes, a shy smile curving her lips.
This is good. This is so good. My Alpha feels like strutting past every other Alpha in town beating its chest.
“Are you ready for your surprise?” I ask, unlocking the truck and holding the door open for her.
Sterling raises a brow, climbing in. “That depends—should I be nervous?”
I smirk. “Nah, sunshine. Just excited.”
She snorts, buckling her seatbelt. “Then I’m excited.” She cups her hands and blows into them, her breath fogging in the morning air.
“I just have to pick something up at the harbor office first. And then we’ll go grab Blake.”
“Oh yeah? Is this part of the surprise?” she asks with sudden nervousness. And I know she’s thinking of her overboard incident.
“No, JP left some invoices for me there that I need to pick up.” I chuckle. “No boats this time.” She slumps back in the seat in relief. I squeeze her shoulder and laugh out loud this time.
I walk around the truck and as I slide into the driver’s seat, I pull out my phone, dialing my mom. She picks up on the second ring.
“Quinn,” she greets, already too chipper for this early in the morning.
“Hey, Mom. How’s Blake?”
“He’s good! Eating candy for breakfast.” She laughs.
“Mom, come on,” I groan. Blake is single handedly the most candy obsessed kid there is.
“I’m kidding.” She laughs. “He’s having pancakes.” My heart swells. When I first moved here, leaving Mom in Seattle was so hard. But she surprised me by moving to Twilight Harbor six months later and has been an honorary pack mom since then. I couldn’t have done this without her.
“Can you have Blake ready in thirty? We’re taking him out for the day.”
There’s a lengthy pause. And I can feel her eyebrows waggling through the phone.
“We?” she asks. The word is long and drawn out.
Sterling shifts beside me, pretending not to listen. A big smile on her face.
“Yes, Mom. We.”
“Well, it’s about damn time,” she mutters. “I’ll have him ready. And behave yourself.”
“I will and love you.”
“Love you. Bye now.”
I roll my eyes as I hang up, glancing at Sterling as I set my phone down.
She’s watching me with a look I can’t quite read.
“Your mom sounds nice.”
“She is.” I shrug, shifting gears. “You’ll like her.”
Her eyes soften, and her hand goes to rest on my thigh. I place my hand over hers. The simplicity of it makes me way too happy and by the time we reach the docks, my face hurts from smiling.
We pull into the marina parking lot ten minutes later and I cut the engine, already thinking about the day me and Blake have secretly been planning for the last week.
Sterling is still looking out at the water, watching the gentle bob of the boats in the harbor, the sunlight dancing on the waves.
“Have you ever been in a lighthouse before?” I ask, pushing open my door.
She hesitates. “No. Is that my surprise?”
“Not saying.” I grin. “But if it was, would you like it?”
She laughs softly, climbing out after me. Looking adorable in her oversized sweater and muck boots. But before she can answer, a loud sharp voice grates down my spine.
Graves stumbles out from the station master’s office, his gait sloppy, his eyes red-rimmed, the stink of alcohol rolling off him in waves.
Fuck.
He’s drunk. And looking for a fight. It never ceases to amaze me how big of a waste of space he is.
“Well, well,” he slurs, stepping closer, his mouth twisting into something cruel. “If it isn’t Quinn fucking Shawnacee, just my lucky day. And look at this—you brought your little sweet smelling gold-digger along.”
The words slap me, cold and cutting. Beside me, Sterling stiffens, her fingers curling into fists, then shoving them in her pockets, but I don’t move.
“Enough, old man,” I say, voice calm and controlled—but laced with a lethal edge. I know he hates it.
Graves scoffs, feigning innocence, his balance swaying slightly as he gestures wide. “So sensitive, I’m only joking.”
Graves sneers, his alcohol-soaked breath curling in the cold air.
“But it is weird, isn’t it? A lone Omega with no family, showing up in my town, sniffing around my son’s pack?
” His gaze drags over Sterling, disdain twisting his features.
“What’s your angle, girl? Are you looking for a meal ticket?
A warm bed? Or is this just a game to you?
Stringing along a pack of desperate Alphas until you find a better offer? ”
A low growl builds in my chest.
Beside me, Sterling takes a sharp breath, but her voice shakes when she starts to speak. “I’m not?—”
I don’t let her finish; nothing about this has anything to do with her. I should just turn around and leave. I spend most of my time avoiding Cass’s father like the plague. His incessant need to mess with us is so fucking draining.
But I can’t leave it alone this time. Fuck him for making Sterling feel anything less than amazing. I step in front of her, my entire body coiled with rage, my muscles tight enough to snap.
“You are fucking pathetic.” My words come out low, controlled, but razor-sharp. “You have nothing left to control, so you come here, sniffing around like a desperate old dog, trying to pick a fight?”
Graves’s jaw twitches, his drunken sway turning to rigid stillness.
I don’t stop.
“We all know you lost the second you started this bullshit. Cass is gonna own the business, and we’ll never have to fucking even look at you again. You’re an irrelevant, worthless, washed-up old Alpha with no power, and no one who gives a shit about you.”
His face twists with rage, a deep, furious red crawling up his neck.
“You think you’re real hot shit, don’t you?” he sneers, his voice thick with whiskey and venom. “You’re nothing but a fucking weak Alpha playing house with a…”
And then—he looks at Sterling.
And I know exactly what’s coming before he even opens his mouth.
“Fucking whore.” He spits at her feet.
Sterling sucks in a sharp breath, her shoulders going rigid beside me.
I don’t fucking think. Before I even realize what I’m doing, my fist connects with his jaw, the impact splitting the silence of the dock like a gunshot.
Two other men come running from inside, boots pounding against the dock, drawn by the noise and the sudden violence.
I hit him harder than I meant to—rage and adrenaline behind the punch—and that, combined with his drunken sway, sends Graves stumbling backward.
He crashes into the side of the building with a loud bang, taking a stack of crab traps with him, his body crumpling slightly as he slides down the wall.
His mouth twists in a grimace of shock and pain, and blood pours freely from his now-crooked nose, staining his shirt and dripping down his chin.
Pain radiates through my hand, a deep, pulsing throb that’s already blooming into something worse.
I glance down at my swollen knuckles, already bruising, and grit my teeth.
I’m almost positive I broke my damn hand.
“Shut the fuck up, Graves,” I snarl, stepping forward, my body coiled tight, rage burning through my veins.
A pained voice rises from my side, trembling but clear. “What exactly is your problem with me?”
He spits blood onto the dock, his chest heaving with shallow, ragged breaths. And then—he laughs.
Low. Cruel. Bitter.
The sound crawls over my skin like a threat, like something rotten buried just beneath the surface finally forcing its way out.
“Hit a nerve, did I, girl?” he slurs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He straightens, eyes gleaming with malice as they flick to Sterling.
His smile is slow, ugly.
“I’m just calling it like I see it. You’re just an easy fuck for a handful of Alphas who can’t keep their dicks in their pants. If you were worth anything, you’d be claimed by now. You’re getting a little old to be playing single girl, don’t you think, sweetheart?”
Sterling flinches, her breath hitching.
I lunge again, but this time Sterling grabs my arm, her grip tight, desperate.
“Quinn, please,” she whispers, her voice trembling, her scent spiking with distress. And it’s that distress that pulls me back, my Alpha needing to protect her.
My hands shake, my breathing ragged, but I don’t move. I just stand there, glaring at Graves, my entire body vibrating with fury.
“You’re pathetic,” I grind out, my voice low, lethal. “No pack. No business. No power. Just a washed-up old bastard with nothing left but a poison fucking tongue.”
Graves’s jaw flexes, something dark and unstable flashing through his expression. But for once—he doesn’t have a response.
Sterling tugs at me again, her fingers digging into my wrist, and this time, I let her pull me away.
But as I turn, as I let her lead me toward the truck, I hear Graves mutter one last thing under his breath?—
“Won’t last, boy. You’ll see.”
My vision goes red.
But Sterling’s hands are still on me, her warmth still grounding me, and I know—if I turn back, if I go for him again—I won’t stop.
So, I let her drag me away toward the truck, before I do something I can’t take back.
“Quinn,” she breathes. “Your hand?—”
I glance down. It’s already swelling. It's been years since I lost my temper like that.
“Shit,” I mutter, shaking out my throbbing hand. “I’m so sorry, Sterling.”