Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Grayson
The kitchen has gone quiet enough that I can hear the second hand on the clock above the stove. Miranda went up to check on Ethan an hour ago and hasn’t come down.
I pour what’s left of the coffee into the sink, rinse the carafe, and stare out at the back lawn while the water runs.
The grass at the tree line looks ordinary from this distance.
A child’s foam ball sits in the dewy fringe where Ethan dropped it.
My eyes track the gap in the pines where the man stood and watched my son, weighing him, deciding something.
Did he come for Ethan or did he come to observe Miranda and me?
I want to put my fist through the window.
The kitchen door opens, and Derek lets himself in, pulling on his shirt.
“Any sign?” I ask.
“What do you think?”
He doesn’t say it with bite, just the dry exhaustion of a man who has spent the last few hours retracing the perimeter of my property in the dark. There’s a fresh scratch along the back of his hand where a branch probably caught him.
“Nothing useful,” he says, dropping onto a stool at the island.
“I went all the way to the south fence and back along the creek. Two sets of prints at the deer trail, but they’re partial, and they end on the rock where the moss starts.
No scent past that point either. He knew exactly where to step. ”
“He had to scout it ahead.”
“He had to scout it more than once.” Derek meets my eyes. “Whoever this is has been on your land before tonight. Probably more than twice.”
I press my palms flat to the counter. My claws are right under the skin, and they’ll come through if I let them.
“If Vanessa is moving on Ethan, that’s a problem.”
“I don’t know.” My frustration leaks through.
“And I don’t care. If she gets him across the territory line into Crimson Rock, the legal mess becomes a pack mess.
Two packs at each other’s throats over a four-year-old.
The Council will weigh in, and these days, weighing in means telling us we can’t go to war over a custody matter, which is Council code for the mother gets the boy and the alpha gets a slap on the wrist.”
Derek’s jaw works. “So deal with Vanessa.”
I look away. “It would be easy. If she can make a mistake on our turf, Coach can deal with her, but I can’t go after her just yet.”
“Mm.” He drums his fingers once on the counter. “Good point. So about Miranda…”
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re about to.”
He flashes me that crooked half-smile he used to wear in college, the one Gabriel always swore could get him out of anything. He tips his chin toward the stairs.
“She’s not just a fake fiancée, is she?”
My silence is its own answer.
Derek laughs, low and pleased. “I’ve never seen you look at any woman the way you look at her. Not even Vanessa. You watched the boy chase her around the yard tonight like a man watching his whole future.”
I exhale. “She’s my fated mate.”
His face changes. The amusement smooths out into something I can’t read for a beat, then he claps me on the back hard enough to rattle my teeth, the grin breaking back across his face.
“Brother. That’s huge.” His hand stays on my shoulder a second longer than I expect. “Tell me you’ve petitioned the Council.”
“I haven’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t intend to.”
He sits back, eyebrows climbing. “Are you planning to keep her by your side without the mark?”
“I’m planning to do whatever it takes to keep her alive.”
“Grayson.”
“I don’t trust them, Derek.” My voice has gone low. “I’ve never trusted them. You know what they did to Gabriel.”
He goes very still on the stool, then tips his head toward me slowly. “Does Coach know about her?”
“He figured it out at the arena. After what Vanessa pulled.”
Derek runs a hand through his hair. “Coach is a stickler for the rules. He won’t let you skate around the petition. He’ll make you go through the channels whether you want to or not.”
“He’s already told me as much.”
“And?”
“And I’m not putting her in front of those men.”
Derek leans back, his thumb tapping the side of his glass. When he speaks again, his voice is careful, almost conversational, each word set down and tested before the next.
“You know, the Council might surprise you on this one. They didn’t approve Annie out of the goodness of their hearts. Coach pulled strings. He went to bat for Gabriel inside that chamber, and they granted it because he asked.”
I turn my head to look at him. “What do you mean?”
Derek shrugs as though he’s repeating the weather report. “Coach has friends on the Council going back decades. He’s also on the short list for the next seat that opens.”
I didn’t know that, and the kitchen feels smaller than it did a minute ago.
“He never told me any of that.”
“Why would he? It’s not the type of thing you brag about.” Derek lifts his glass. “But it means he has leverage, Grayson. Real leverage. If Coach goes to the Council on your behalf like he did for Gabriel, they’ll listen. And they’ll probably say yes.”
I don’t react, sipping my coffee.
Inside my head, a different conversation is running. If Coach is a Council candidate, the last thing the Council would do is move against his family.
Derek is watching me over the rim of his glass. “You all right?”
“Just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“It has.” He stands. “Listen. Until this whole thing is sorted out, I’m going to keep popping in. Drop by during the day. Run the perimeter at night when I can. Nobody is walking back onto this property and getting within ten feet of your boy. Hear me?”
He puts his palm flat against the side of my neck for a second, the old pack gesture from when we were younger, and something in his face when he does it eludes me. I can’t tell if it’s affection or an imitation of it wearing his old smile.
I clap his shoulder in return. “Thank you.”
The stairs creak, and Miranda comes down in the T-shirt and leggings she sleeps in, her hair pulled into a messy knot at the back of her neck. She stops at the bottom of the steps and looks between us.
Derek smiles at her. “I was just heading out, Miranda. Sleep well. Try not to worry. Your boys are well looked after.”
He lets himself out through the side door.
The latch drops behind him with that same small click, and I cross to her before the sound has fully faded, my hands sliding up her arms, pulling her in against my chest. She comes willingly. Her forehead drops to my collarbone, and she exhales like she has been holding the breath for an hour.
She is silent against my chest for a long moment, her good arm wrapped around my ribs, and I can feel her thinking.
“Put a tracker on him,” she says suddenly.
I pull back enough to see her face. “What?”
“A tracker. In his shoes. Sewn into the lining of his coats. One in his backpack.” Her eyes are level. “I know it’s controlling. I don’t care. He’s four, Grayson. If somebody manages to grab him from this house or from a park or anywhere, I want to know we have a way to find him.”
I stare at her, and the wolf in my chest, who has been pacing since I saw her shouting for me in the yard, settles all at once. My hand comes up to the back of her neck, and I draw her forehead to mine.
“You’re brilliant.”
“I’m scared.”
“You’re brilliant and scared at once. I’ll call my security guy in the morning. Multiple devices. Different ranges. We’ll get redundancy on every piece of clothing he owns, including ChuChu.”
A small breath of a laugh leaves her. “Even ChuChu.”
“That bear has been on every adventure of his life. He’s not going anywhere without a chip in him.”
She presses her face back into my chest, and her shoulders loosen a fraction. “Come to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I lock up the kitchen, turn off the lights, and follow her up the stairs. I check on Ethan one more time at the door of his room. He’s curled around ChuChu, breathing slowly, the nightlight throwing soft gold across his cheek. Some of the tension leaks out of me.
In our bedroom, Miranda strips out of her leggings and climbs under the covers in nothing but her T-shirt, and any other night, the sight would have me crossing the room with intent.
Tonight I climb in after her, pull her against my chest, and just hold her.
My chin settles on top of her head, her good arm rests across my ribs, and her bandaged forearm lies between us with the dressing fresh and clean.
Neither of us speaks for a while.
Then she shifts against me, her voice quiet in the dark. “What were you and Derek talking about?”
I exhale slowly. “Coach.”
“What about him?”
“Derek told me something I didn’t know. Coach is on the short list for the next open seat on the Council.” My thumb moves once against her shoulder. “If that’s true, then the Council would never have come after his family. They want him in that room. They wouldn’t risk it.”
She is quiet, processing. “So what does this mean?”
“The Council of Elders chooses only one nominee. It’s not like there are two or three.
Putting Annie in the way of a truck would have been an attack on Coach himself.
They wouldn’t have risked losing him.” I’ve spent years believing my sister-in-law was murdered by the Council.
And now… “I don’t know what to think.” My voice has gone low.
“If Coach is being measured for a seat, putting his daughter-in-law under a truck is the last move any of them would make.”
Her hand moves up to my chest, fingers spreading flat over my heart. “Then maybe they’re not responsible. Maybe Annie’s death really was what they said it was. An accident.”
A laugh that has no humor in it shakes out of me. “She was on a street that had no business being on her route. Empty road with no cameras, the wrong part of town for a woman who had just walked out of a job interview at a school three miles away. She would never have gone there on her own.”