Chapter 110: Thirty-two.

Sighing, Elijah pulled his SUV up, and parked in front of the newly painted barn at his family ranch in Georgia. This latest trip to Ireland had been a complete bust, just like all the other trips he had undertaken, no trace of anything remotely useful. No Colt, no shaman, and no Zachary.

At least his jet lag wasn't as bad this time, he was screwed up for a few days upon reaching Ireland, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had missed something then. Not that he could do much about it now, he decided as his head sagged against the head rest, and he took a moment to wallow in self pity and defeat.

His mind wandered to Colt, it often did. What was she doing? Was she happy? Did she think about him? He couldn't help the small swell of pride at how well she remained hidden from him, despite how much he wanted to find her. He had done enough research into her family to try and find her, it just never turned up anything remotely useful. Her father, like him was from the South, her Mom was Scottish he knew, and for a while he had contemplated looking therw. Until he discovered Isla's had to escape an arranged marriage to be with Kalvin, and the general attitude towards female wildcats that existed there in general. Colt would never go there, it would make her life ten times worse and she was looking for a sense of peace. Not chaos.

Climbing out of his vehicle, a few moments later, he walked heavy footed into the barn. There was one face he wanted to see in particular, and he knew instinctively, where to find it. He walked past the soon to be filled stalls, and straight to the feed store, where there were piles of blankets, ready and waiting to be used on the new arrivals.

Elijah was restarting his grandfather's business. Breeding horses, it felt like the right thing to do on so many fronts, and this week his first mares would arrive. Three of which were already in foal and due to give birth in a few months. Everything was moving forward nicely, so to speak. He had found that peace Colt had wished him, in all ways except one.

Elijah was lonely. He was a wolf, without a pack, and without his mate. He knew he deserved it, but he couldn't help but feel Colt's absence in his life. The jagged remains of their bond, lodged within his chest were a permanent reminder of how much of an idiot he had been.

Thankfully, at least he was on better terms with his mother and father now, although understandably the freshness of all that had happened, meant they kept a bit of a distance from each other. But, his parents refused to lose both of their children, and learned to forgive Elijah, even if things still were strained. His father had even helped in the restoration work on the ranch. Including sourcing a great quarter horse stallion, from Elijah's grandfather's old contacts, who would arrive in a months time.

He found it helped to keep busy, it somewhat drowned out the perpetual loneliness.

But, at least there was one person in his life who still looked at him like they always had, with complete superiority and a questioning glare that screamed, "and, what are you going to do about it?"

He found Tommy exactly where he expected to. The now fully grown ginger tomcat, was curled up, nestled in the new horse blankets like they were there solely for him.

The cat opened his eyes, glaring at Elijah as he moved towards him. He was daring him to attempt to move him from his newly claimed bed.

"Still holding a grudge, I see." Elijah stated, roughly rubbing the cats head and earning himself a disgruntled hiss. "Well, I brought you tuna, so come on," he said, nodding in the direction of the house.

Tommy sat up slowly, scrutinizing Elijah's retreating form for a moment, before jumping down and following him to the main house. The cat had just been a kitten when Elijah went off the rails, and very quickly came to rely on himself, by hunting for rodents around the ranch. Then one day, the man who had been gone for months came back.

Tommy had watched as he had searched the entire house and barn, hunting for any evidence of him. He was sat in a tree watching the entire show, until the man seemingly gave up, and went to bed.

The next morning, Tommy was sat on top of Elijah's chest when he awoke, welcoming him with a loud hiss and a scratch to the face, in penance for forgetting him. The cat still held a grudge for his abandonment even now, but the man always brought him tuna, and Tommy was a fickle beast. A fickle beast, who really enjoyed canned tuna.

After Elijah had fed the cat he scooped him up, noting just how much of a better mood the cat was always in after he was fed. Not completely unlike someone else he knew, and missed desperately.

Tommy allowed the affection, enjoying the company and the chin scratches for fifteen minutes, before deciding enough was enough, and wriggling out of Elijah's grasp to go upstairs and relax on one of the beds.

Elijah watched the temperamental cat go, before heading out with a sigh to gather his belongings and bring them inside. Feeling completely pathetic that he, the former Alpha of the largest werewolf pack in North America, was reduced to bribing a temperamental cat for affection.

-----

Angus was sitting at the counter, in the kitchen of his upmarket appartment, eating his breakfast in peace, when his Uncle Arthur called him. He was demanding he meet him to play golf in an hour. He was instantly put off his food, losing his appetite and pushing his plate away.

His Uncle was a cruel and callous man, one not many people were fond of. Especially Angus, not to mention over half the Bruce clan as well. Arthur always had a way of making those in his clan feel inferior, like they owed him something, when in truth he was a complete leech.

Angus' own career was a perfect example of this. He had worked his arse off for four years obtaining his degree in Scottish law, with honours, before advancing on and doing another four and a half years work of post graduate training to get to where he was today, able to act as an advocate. Yet, his Uncle would always claim his every success was down to him, and the support he had given him. That if it weren't for him, Angus would have ended up working in some dingy fast food restaurant. Like Angus would ever be caught dead eating at a KFC never mind working in one. The thought was enough to make him shudder in repulsion.

Arthur Bruce had a tendency to boast about and claim all of Angus' successes in life, and reprimand him harshly for all his perceived career or general life failures. Angus was now a criminal defence barrister. With a very high success rate of getting cases acquitted or the return of a not guilty verdict. But, on the rare occasion he ended up with a guilty verdict, his Uncle would be the first to admonish him on his failures. Despite the fact it only ever happened when the client was guilty and there was undeniable evidence of their crime.

Fuck, he hated his Uncle.

All the same, like the dutiful nephew he was groomed to be, Angus got changed, and putting his clubs in the back of his car he set off, arriving fifteen minutes early at the golf club, and went to find his Uncle.

"You're late." Arthur sneered, when Angus approached him tee-ing off, on the fourth hole. His ball barely made it a third of the way down the fairway.

Angus repressed his frustrated hiss, knowing there was no point in contradicting Arthur. "But, I'm here, and at your request," he stated, pulling his driver out of the bag, he was then ready to tee off behind his Uncle.

He hated golf. Always had, ever since Arthur began to take an interest in him at about four years old, and started dragging him around the course every week.There was a time when he used to object, but his Uncle had beaten that resistance out of him after a while.

Golf and Uncle Arthur, the two things Angus Bruce hated more than any other. Followed closely by his parents for always bending to the man's will.

But, despite his hatred of golf, he was rather good at the sport, and of course as to be expected, his Uncle took full credit for that fact. Even patting him on the back, as if there was a pleasant type of relationship between the two, when Angus' ball landed three quarters of the way down the fairway. Angus internally shuddered as they moved forward, playing from the back until they were on the green. Every strike of the club against the ball, Angus was internally imagining his Uncle's face being on the receiving end instead.

His ball was in the hole two under par, but knowing his Uncle that would never be good enough. Despite Arthur himself being four over.

"You're getting rusty, Boy." Arthur spoke disdainfully, "I hope this means you've made progress elsewhere?" he asked, knowing full well the answer was no.

"Actually, there's a promotion I have been offered at work," Angus replied, deciding that playing dumb, and giving his Uncle the opportunity to move on to a different subject was best. "I managed to get my latest client off a shaky hook. He had raped the girl. But, she was a known party goer, a few of her own social media posts presented in an unsavoury light, and she herself withdrew the charges. Dumb bitch made it too easy," he laughed, relishing in the easy win.

Arthur just grunted, ignoring Calum's perceived success, and shaking his head, "What about your fiancée? Excuse the pun, but have you brought that dumb bitch to heel yet?"

"No," Angus sighed, straightening up and rubbing his face. "To be honest, the half breed isn't worth the trouble. Rancid cow, has too much bite, no man will get through to her."

Arthur hissed loudly.

"Stupid Boy!" He shouted, "The hard headed bitch was seen snuggled up with Calum Macgregor, clinging to him like a rat ro a life raft just last night, as he carried her from his fucking boat!"

"He what!" Angus shouted in disbelief, disgust and jealousy coating his face, and flooding his blood. Colt Merrier may not have the personality he desired in a woman, but no one could contest her beauty, and the thought of Calum getting his hands on her was enough to cause Angus' territorial brain to begin a downward spiral.

"The bastard hasn't even been back a week, and he has her eating out of his hands! And you?" Arthur snorted, "What have you achieved in the last eight months? You are a fucking embarrassment to the Bruce name," he hissed, striking Angus across the face with his extended claws in anger.

Angus staggered back, clutching his torn skin, as his blood oozed from the wound, dripping down and smearing across his pastel blue jumper.

"I won't let you mess this up again! I will not be defied by another fucking Merrier! And especially not with the help of that jumped up little shit-head, Calum Macgregor! I will deal with Colt myself, and mark my words, Boy, she will belong to a Bruce!"

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay, had to do some research for this chapter to get it right. Hope you like it... or at the very least are intrigued? 🤔😉