Chapter 45
THE PUNCH LEAVES ME WINDED. Sweat coats my forehead, a bead sliding down the side of my face. My muscles protest and throb with soreness. I'm wheezing. My knees give out and I crash to the mat below.
"Get up." Dad towers over me. The disappointment lacing his words rips through the heavy silence of the gym. When he dragged me in, there were others inside sparring. Dale and Asher were caught in a high-tension sparring session that they stopped to give us the ring.
Now, it's surrounded by fellow pack mates, my friends included, bearing witness to this unconventional act of discipline.
"Get up, boy." Dad is certifiably angry though he's holding back on me plenty. Everyone in the gym knows he could have me beat in a few moves. But this isn't about winning.
In my periphery, I spot the faces of the other heads. They look on, supervising just in case things go badly. Not that it will.
I have no control at the moment, but Dad won't let this go too far.
"Give me a second," I start. The words are hardly out of my mouth when he pushes my shoulder with his foot, sending me toppling onto my back.
"I said, get up! I taught you better – made you stronger than this."
Sweat drenches my jersey making it stick to my body like a second skin. It's hot. I'm uncomfortable. Exhausted. In pain, and the last of my anger from Friday afternoon hasn't yet left my system. It's been two days.
This morning, Jordan Dalton arrived in Marcana in a fierce tangent, demanding answers for the assault on his son. In tow was Blake, his shoulder popped back into place, but his hand was in a cast. My friends and I were called upon to give our sides of the story.
Crescent Hill's beta left with his son shortly after burning with newfound rage because it quickly came out that Blake lied.
He had twisted the details of what led to him getting injured.
His version of events was discredited with the video evidence of what they'd done to Jace's car.
It took no time at all for Beta Jordan to piece things together and understand why my retaliation was so vicious.
But despite my noble intentions, I'm not above reprimand.
Still, I'm too worked up to care about the fallout of this disciplinary act on my father's part.
Stumbling to my feet, I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead.
"You made me strong for situations like this. You've been pushing me ever since Mom died so I never live through what you did."
Dad's jaw tenses. His nostrils flare. His eyes darken and I know I've made a mistake mentioning my mother.
She's still a touchy topic for him after all this time because while he won't admit it, I know that the reason he pushes me so hard, puts me through rigorous training tough enough to have me passing out is because he's scared.
Scared of losing me. Scared of watching me fall victim to a tragedy similar to what he went through. He's afraid of losing me to his greatest insecurity.
Dad motions with his hands palm up for me to get into a defensive stance. Bringing up my arms, fists guarding my face, we fall back into a pattern of circling each other, sizing up the other. Figuring out the best attack and anticipating where one will come from.
"There's more to being strong than throwing punches and breaking bones," he reprimands.
He gives me the advantage, beckoning me forward as he steps back. He blocks the kick to his right and the one to his left. He swings, landing a punch to my side.
Thank the Goddess for our advanced healing because that hit landed square over the spot on my side where that rogue bit me during the attack at Lativa. It's healed over nicely – not a scar in sight.
"You're the next gamma. A future leader," he continues, dodging my fist. He grunts, stumbling once, the force of my kick unbalancing him. He shakes it off. "There's strength in knowing when to use words and when to walk away."
He ducks low, avoiding my elbow. It leaves me open to attack. The next second, his fist slams into my ribs.
My breath shorts and I cough, dancing away to recover. Pressing my fingers to my side, I wince at the soreness rippling through the spot.
"There's no talking or walking away from Blake. You don't think I tried?"
"His injuries say differently."
Rage rises. His arms are down. He can't react in time when my foot lands on his belly. He stumbles, a knee hitting the mat but only for a second. He's back up in a heartbeat, shaking his head, a knowing smirk on his face.
I got even. A cheap shot for all it's worth, but effective, nonetheless.
"He wasn't going to stop, Dad. I tried to deescalate. Tried to get Jace out without more problems but he wasn't going to let us leave. I had to do something."
He swings out a fist. I lean away, dropping to the mat and sticking out a leg. He's swept off his feet and goes down hard on his back. The canvas rattles and he coughs, the impact winding him.
"I wasn't about to let him hurt Jace. I can't let anyone hurt him."
My father doesn't know about Jace's illness. As a human up against a Were, he's already at a disadvantage but if he's sick enough that his health is deteriorating, he's at a greater disadvantage than if he were perfectly healthy.
The last thing I want is for anyone – me included – to make things more difficult for him.
He needs rest, no stress, and loads of support while I figure out how to introduce him to my world.
Once that happens, and he accepts it, I can talk him around to the one possible trump card that could save his life.
The mating mark.
"I get the sentiment, buddy. That's how the typical Were feels about their mate."
He's on his feet again and I stand too. I barely have time to assume a defensive stance when he goes low.
His shoulder barrels into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me, all two-hundred and fifteen pounds slamming into me in one swift move.
Pain rockets through my body as I'm lifted off the ground and slammed back down before I'm given a chance to defend myself.
"Dick move," I wheeze, rolling onto my side, slightly disoriented.
Dad smiles, patting my leg. "Walk it off, tough guy."
"By the way, you're wrong. It's more than typical protectiveness."
"Because he's human."
I shake my head, sitting up. I scoot closer to the corner of the ring, draping my arms over the ropes. My muscles protest with pain, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. The subtle act of surrender brings a swift change.
"It's more than that."
Dad picks up that the conversation has taken on a different tone.
He glances to the subordinates surrounding the ring and without having to be told, they scatter.
My friends wander off, Dale and Carter sitting on a nearby bench.
Asher takes the moment to approach his father and challenge him to a sparring match.
Commander Rick declines at first with a shake of his head. Ash scowls. His mouth moves. I'm pretty sure he called his father a wuss and the goad works because now the man is taking off his shoes and removing his jacket, preparing for a fight.
Ash beams like the sun.
"Go easy on him, Ash," Alpha calls out. Commander Rick flips him off. Distracted by Alpha's provocation, he barely dodges out of the way when Ash swings a kick at him.
"What do you mean?" Dad's question drags me back to our conversation. When I hesitate, he senses that it's something heavy – something too serious to casually talk about. "What's wrong, buddy?"
"I'll tell you."
Getting to my feet with his help, I slip through the ropes and off the ring's edge. He follows me out of the gym, snatching fresh towels from the table near the entrance. He hands one to me as we step off the main path onto a dirt one cutting through the trees.
"What's with the suspense?"
"I don't mean to," I tell him, wiping my face. "I don't want a lot of people knowing."
I reflect on what Jace told me in the infirmary.
When he confessed about the tumor, I came to understand his reluctance to entertain anything more than a friendship with me.
It's not shame over his condition that kept his mouth shut.
For his own reasons, because he doesn't want to hurt the people he cares about, he's carried that secret for months.
I'm betraying his confidence by telling my father, but Dad needs to know what I'm dealing with, so he'll understand what I did to Blake wasn't unprovoked. I typically avoid that annoying motherfucker, but when it comes to Jace, it's not something I can do easily.
Goddess knows, his ex-friends have given me plenty of reasons to wish them nasty ends in a matter of two days.
"He's sick, Dad. And it's bad."
Thankfully, he doesn't respond right away. If he wants to, he can't seem to find the right words if the worry on his face is any indication of what thoughts are rolling through his head. His eyebrows bunch and his mouth presses into a frown.
I tell him what happened on Friday: Jace falling sick during the exam, the scent I caught, my conversation with Addy, and Jace confirming my suspicions when he woke up.
The entire time, Dad listens. His frown deepens and his concern grows.
"Maybe I went overboard," I admit. "Whether if it's because of the bond or that I don't like seeing people wronged, I'd do it again if it means keeping Jace out of harm's way. You have every right to be disappointed with how I handled things. You're right.
You did teach me better and I did let you down. But I'm not sorry. This was one of those things that couldn't be settled with words or walking away."
"I'm not sure what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," I reassure him. "But at least tell me you understand why I acted that way."
There's a pause as we walk farther along the path, passing a fellow Were on patrol.
Finally, Dad nods. "I do. But you know, you can't go around solving problems with your fists all the time."
"I'll try," I reply with a touch of sarcasm, opting for a lighter tone though no one knows how often I might have to resort to knocking someone out to settle a dispute.
Dad smiles. "Smartass." He clears his throat. "So, about Jace's condition, how bad are we talking? Is it terminal?"
I sigh heavily. "He says it's not."
"You don't believe him," he observes and I shake my head.
"I'm not sure. He's not being fully honest with me. He has his reasons and I won't pressure him about it. But if what Addy said is true, I'm thinking his health might already be on a drastic decline."
"What's your plan?" he asks, turning to look at me. "You know, there's a chance he could survive with the mating mark."
"I know. Right now, the problem is figuring out how to tell him about...you know."
Dad nods, a light smile on his face. "Right. He has no idea what you are." He heaves a heavy sigh. "Well, I'm here if you need anything. Though I suspect you may not. You're smart like that."
If only. Too many days I feel like I'm not living up to the potential.
My father has big shoes and one day, I'll have to fill them.
That day could be tomorrow or years from now and I fear he has no idea how much I still need him or how much I'll need him if I'm to introduce Jace to my world.
I don't know what will happen because human mates are rare.
Usually, they transition into werewolves after consummating the mate bond but with Jace's illness, there is no telling what could happen.
And I am so afraid that the change won't flush out the cancer. I'm scared that even if it manages to do so, I can't help but wonder if his body will be strong enough to survive the shift.
"We should head back." Dad pulls me out of my straying, darker thoughts. "There'll be an interrogation tonight."
His voice carries a playful lilt since he knows how much I enjoy learning the ropes of Gamma.
Interrogations happen to be one aspect of the job I thoroughly look forward to.
It can be a harrowing experience especially when dealing with nasty Weres who purposefully agitate the interrogator, but it can also be rewarding work cutting to the meat of what led to the crime or violation.
Psychology and behavior – people – have always fascinated me.
That too, I think Dad's trying to distract me. Improve my mood from the plummeting nosedive it did when I opened up about Jace.
"One of those rogues you didn't kill agreed to a deal."
"You guys aren't letting me forget soon, are you?"
"Nope," he replies and laughs. His own way of saying it's not too big of a deal. The alpha himself saw no reason to punish my recklessness. "Anyway, he's requested witness protection in exchange for the information we want. Security detail. Secret relocation. The whole works."
I frown. "Witness protection? Just who the hell hired these guys?"
"That's what we're hoping to find out."