47. Marcus
Once we’re back in Reno, time speeds up again. Before I know it, it’s the middle of April, and after sharing the news from the road trip about the ‘leadership takeover’ in Stockton, I am on a new team. They didn’t say whether it was the time I took off or the information I’d found, but by the next shift, they restationed me to city center patrols monitoring pack members downtown, which was basically babysitting drunk wolves and making sure they kept their shit together.
The memories from Grace’s birthday trip still make me smile. The movie we saw was perfect, and seeing her analyze every minute was just as fun as watching it. She”s a stickler for detail, and she made sure I knew any time the story left something out or changed a detail.
She spent the entire car ride home talking about the actors” choices, how the director nailed the theme, and how the movie version captured the characters she saw in her head well. I was just glad to take the look of defeat off her face from outside the signing. I felt helpless when the clerk told me about the cancellation and that the rescheduling was months away.
I knew what this trip was for Grace. Deacon had spent hours researching and hundreds of dollars on tickets and the hotel, not to mention the cash he tried to get Luca to give me. I gave all that back, spending the money I had left from my college fund on the food, gas, movie tickets, and concessions instead. She needed a pick-me-up to get her through until he got home.
I just hope it wasn’t a bad memory for her, and instead, she can see the good that came from it.
I tried to fix it.
When I spoke to Deacon in the packhouse after we returned, he was livid, threatening to burn down the bookstore for their role in it. I had to talk him off the ledge, and apparently, after we spoke, Grace told him about the trip and calmed him down in a way only she could.
Since returning, I had been so wrapped up in my new position and keeping in touch with Deacon while passing messages to Luca or Grace that I’d almost forgotten it was her actual birthday tomorrow.
So here I am, wandering the aisles of her favorite bookstore, looking for something to give her. After nearly an hour, I narrow it down to three options and set my pride aside as I walk to the front desk.
The bookstore”s owner, Fran, is behind the register, crocheting some purple yarn. I know better than to guess what she is making because it all looks the same.
“Hi there, Fran,” I say, pulling her attention and getting her sweet, grandmotherly smile.
“Oh, Hello, Marcus. I wondered how long it would take you to ask me for help. Since she moved here eight years ago, Grace has been here at least twice a week, looking at or trading books. You can put those three back,” she says, nodding to the choices I’d come up with.
Pausing, I stare down at the books. I know for a fact she has mentioned two of these to me, and the third is the next in a series she was about to start. Also, my wolf doesn’t love being told what to do.
She senses my reservation and continues.
“It’s her birthday. The book you want is just past that bookshelf over there. Third level from the top. Dark green cover,” she says before going back to her needlework.
Setting the books I’m holding down, I walk where she instructed and quickly find the book she refers to. It”s dark green, leatherbound, and gold embossed. The cover shows no title, but it”s written on the spine.
Divine Comedy: written by Dante Alighieri.
Okay…
I bring the book to the register, confusion marring my face.
“I don’t understand. Why this book?” I ask, glancing down at my chosen stack and wondering if I should just go with what I have.
“I got that first edition reprint in mint condition four years ago. Grace knows she can’t afford it, but she goes by that shelf every time she comes in to see if it’s still here,” Fran says, and I think back to the few times I’ve come with her, remembering her always starting in that section.
“Why hasn’t Deacon bought it for her?” I ask out loud, though it was more a thought than a question for Fran.
“The Marlos aren’t welcome in my store,” she says, ringing up the order. “$187 even.”
Dang.
I pause for only a second before realizing it’s Grace. She deserves it, especially since she has waited for years. Cash changes hands, and I walk out of the store, excited to see her reaction.
The next day, I work until two, but as soon as my shift ends, I hurry back to the packhouse to shower, change, and get to Grace’s. Deacon had called yesterday and asked me to make sure she had a nice dinner and didn’t spend the day alone. He planned a phone call later tonight to be able to talk to her, and he didn’t want her home sitting by the phone on her birthday.
“Thanks for keeping an eye on my girl, Cap.”
The memory of his words made me smile, and I mock-saluted the phone. Hanging out with Grace wasn’t a job he had to thank me for. Grace made this whole internship tolerable. Not to say Luca and some of the pack weren’t great, but walking on eggshells with Giovanni and trying to keep my Alpha in the loop without betraying Deacon”s trust was a lot of moving parts. My time with Grace was always easy. If anything, she took some of that stress away.
I grab the book I bought her yesterday, now wrapped in newspaper comics because it was all I had to work with, and head for her house. Part of me wonders if Fran just bamboozled me by having me buy a book she couldn’t sell because it cost a literal fortune.
Maybe I’m a fool.
I’ll find out today when she opens it.
Turning the final left onto Grace’s street, I see her standing by her mailbox, nose in a book, as usual. What isn’t usual is the green dress she wears. The forest green garment is cinched at her waist and wrapped up her neck at the top, leaving her shoulders bare. Her hair is braided like a crown but falls in loose curls down her back.
I’d never seen her wear a dress.
It knocks the wind out of me, stopping me in my tracks as I take her in. She looks older in that moment—more mature, ready to take on the world as an adult.
Beautiful.
Shaking away the thought and the feeling that comes with it, I close the distance between us.
Hearing my approach, she glances up, her face breaking into a smile when she freezes.
I inhale, trapping in all of the air in a gasp as my wolf scrambles to the surface.
Mine.
Mate.
Grace’s eyes flash lightning blue, her wolf taking over at the same time as mine. Our two souls connecting as my heart snaps, unleashing an overwhelming wave of emotions that nearly brings me to my knees, the present falling from my hands.
She’s Mine.
Grace is my Fated Mate.
The joy I feel as I look at her combines effortlessly with the love I have been holding back. Every piece of friendship is a building block in the foundation of our relationship. The clarity of this moment is jarring, the feeling so deep in my bones it’s as if she”s a part of my very DNA.
It’s always been Grace.
We stand there frozen in time, our wolves conversing without words, our souls reaching out for each other, hearts aligning in one purpose.
We found each other.
I see the exact moment she remembers him.
The whole painful moment plays out in slow motion as her eyes widen, pupils dilate, and fear takes over the expression of pure love she just held.
Deacon.
The thought of his name breaks the spell, and guilt rushes in. Only then can I overtake my wolf, forcing him back under control and pulling my eyes from Grace’s. It takes all my willpower to step back and turn away from her. Every fiber of my being wants the exact opposite.
My wolf fights me, wanting to claim her, hold her, own her right now.
Mine. Mate.
My fists clench, the physical representation of the strength it takes not to wrap her up in my arms and take away all of the pain I see in her eyes.
She’s my Mate, but she loves my best friend.
The battle going on inside her heart plays out on her face. She’s lost in a sea of emotions, drowning in questions no one could answer, and I can tell she doesn’t know what to do.
She loves Deacon.
She’s our Mate!
He’s my best friend.
The Fates chose her for us!
The guilt will crush her.
We can fix it.
Back and forth. Sometimes, it’s me versus my wolf; for others, it”s me versus myself, my conscience.
I never would have betrayed him, even for her. But The Fates chose her to be mine.
How can we pass up such a blessing?
Waiting is the hardest part. Standing here, listening for her words, her acceptance, her response to this seismic shift in our world.
Will she choose me? Accept our fate?
Will she reject me? Lose our wolves? Leave us both broken?
No one has rejected their Fated Mate in centuries. They can’t even trace the last time it happened through anything but old folk tales and children”s bedtime stories. All I know is rejecting your mate means turning your nose up at The Fates. Since they give you your wolf, they can take it away.
A fate worse than death.
Silent tears stream down Grace’s face, her body shakes with empty cries, and all I want to do is comfort her and tell her everything will be alright.
But will it?
Speak! Say something! Please, anything. I need to know this turmoil is not my own.
My silent pleas are finally answered, and the minute I hear her speak, pain tears my heart, scarring it in ways that will never heal, and I wish I could unhear the words.
“Marcus…he won’t survive this…”