Chapter 39 Stronger Than You
Maddox left that evening claiming he had an errand to run.
"I'll be back soon," he said from the doorway of his room, already pulling on his jacket. "Just need to take care of something. Get some rest."
Grace wanted to ask where he was going and tell him she needed to talk to him about something important, but the words stuck in her throat. She just nodded, watching as he disappeared down the hallway.
She heard the front door close a moment later, heard his car start, and pull out of the driveway.
And then silence.
Grace sat on Maddox's bed, staring at the door he'd just walked through, and tried not to think about the fact that he'd looked almost relieved to have an excuse to leave.
The hours passed slowly. Grace tried to sleep but her mind wouldn't shut off, too full of questions and worries and the growing realization that she still hadn't told Maddox the most important thing.
That she was a werewolf too.
Or at least, she thought she was. The evidence certainly pointed that way. The glowing eyes, the heat, the way those rogue wolves had targeted her specifically. But she still didn't know for sure, still didn't understand what it all meant.
And now Maddox was gone, and she had no idea when he'd be back or if he’d believe her.
Night fell, and Grace heard Matteo moving around downstairs, the television turning on and off again, and then she heard him climb the stairs to his own room and close the door.
But Maddox didn't come back.
Grace lay in his bed, surrounded by his scent, and tried not to feel abandoned. He'd said he had an errand. That was all, he'd be back soon.
Except soon turned into hours, and hours turned into the entire night, and by the time dawn broke through the window, Grace had to accept that Maddox had a habit of disappearing and not explaining where to.
She dragged herself out of bed, her leg stiff and aching from being in one position too long. The splint Maddox had fashioned was still in place, but it needed to be taken out. Grace did her best, startled to find it all healed already.
Matteo was already in the kitchen when Grace descended the stairs. He looked up from his coffee and frowned.
"Maddox didn't come back last night," he said, and it wasn't a question.
Grace shook her head.
Matteo's frown deepened. "That boy. I swear he's going to give me grey hair before I'm fifty." He sighed and pulled out a chair for Grace. "Sit. Have some breakfast. He'll turn up eventually, he always does."
The words were meant to be comforting, but they just made Grace feel worse. How often did Maddox disappear like this? Often enough that his uncle had a standard response prepared?
Grace picked at the food Matteo put in front of her, her appetite nonexistent. Her mind kept circling back to the same question.
‘Where was Maddox?’
“Why did you hit him?” She didn’t know when the question left her lips.
Matteo glanced in her direction, lips pressed together in an awkward manner. “Because..l” he trailed off as if reconsidering the words. “He did something really bad.” And that was the end of the exchange as he walked off.
By the time she'd forced down half a piece of toast, Grace had made a decision. She needed answers. Needed to understand what she was, what was happening to her, what all of this meant.
And there was only one person at school who could give her those answers.
Zion.
The thought of approaching Enzo's cousin made Grace terribly anxious. They'd never really talked before, had barely exchanged more than a few words despite being at the same school. And after what had happened during the rescue, after the way he'd looked at her, Grace wasn't sure how he'd react to her suddenly showing up demanding information.
But she didn't have a choice, Maddox wasn’t here. Her parents were gone. She had no one else to turn to.
"I need to go to school," Grace said, looking up at Matteo.
Matteo raised an eyebrow, “Grace, you should be resting."
"I can't rest," Grace said, and there was more desperation in her voice than she'd intended. "I need to talk to someone. I need answers about something."
He was quiet for a moment, studying her face. He opened his mouth to say something but shut it again as he decided against it. Then he sighed. "Alright. I’ll drive you, but if anything happens, you call me immediately. Understood?"
"Understood," Grace agreed quickly.
Matteo looked her up and down, "You have a uniform? Because, last night I could see you only made it back with the skirt on."
“I do,” She remembered seeing her old one at the bottom of the second box.
Getting ready for school was an ordeal that Grace managed. Luckily, the shirt had a high collar that covered most of the hickeys on her neck, though Grace could still see the edges of them when she looked in the mirror. Hence, she wore her hair loosely.
Somehow, she didn't really care. Let people stare, she had bigger problems than gossip.
The drive to school was nerve-wracking. Grace was suddenly hyperaware of every other car and everything else on the road. Her hearing was gradually becoming more and more sensitive.
Matteo pulled into the parking lot, “Make sure to call me if you have any problems, okay?”
Grace nodded and got out of the car.
By the time she made it through the front doors, she was sweating and breathing hard.
The hallway fell silent as she walked through.
Grace could feel eyes on her from every direction, students stopped mid-conversation to stare.
She kept her head up and her eyes forward, refusing to acknowledge the attention. It had something to do with her missing her own wedding.
Let them stare. Let them whisper. She didn't care.
Zion's classroom was on the second floor. Grace climbed the stairs slowly, gritting her teeth against the pain, and pushed through the door.
The classroom wasn't full yet, just the early arrivals who came to finish homework or socialize before the bell rang. And there, in the back corner, was Zion.
He was surrounded by two or three other guys, all of them laughing at something one of them had said. They looked so normal, so casual, like they didn't have a care in the world.
Grace crossed the classroom, weaving between desks, her eyes fixed on Zion.
The laughter died as she approached. The guys surrounding Zion turned to look at her, their expressions ranging from curious to confused.
"I need to talk to you," Grace said, addressing Zion directly.
One of his friends whistled, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Oh man, is this a confession? Please tell me this is a confession."
"She's totally into him," another one said, elbowing Zion. "Dude, you've got another one."
Grace ignored them, keeping her focus on Zion. "Please. It's important."
Zion leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. He looked different here at school than he had during the rescue. More relaxed, more detached. Like the cool, untouchable nepo kid everyone knew him as.
"I'm kind of busy right now," Zion said, gesturing vaguely to his friends. "Maybe later."
The dismissal was clear, and it made something hot flare in Grace's chest.
"It’s… important. About that night," Grace said between clenched teeth.
One of the guys whistled, probably taking those words the wrong way.
Zion's eyebrow raised slightly, “That so?"
"Yeah," Grace said firmly. "That's so. And I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me.”
One of Zion's friends stood up, stepping between Grace and Zion. He was tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of guy who was used to using his size to intimidate.
"You heard him," the friend said, looking down at Grace with a smirk. "He's busy. Why don't you run along and come back when you're invited?"
Grace looked up at him, anger already coursing through her, and maybe it was the stress of the past few days. Maybe it was her recently discovered heritage. Maybe it was the dismissive way he was looking at her, like she was nothing more than an annoying fly to be swatted away.
Whatever it was, Grace felt something surge through her body. A strength she'd never felt before, a power that made her fingers tingle and her heart race.
Her hand shot out faster than she'd intended, faster than should have been possible, and closed around the guy's wrist which hung midair.
Then she squeezed.
The guy's smirk vanished, replaced by a look of shock and then pain as Grace's grip tightened. She could feel the bones in his wrist grinding together, could feel how easy it would be to just keep squeezing until something broke.
‘Wow. This is crazy.’
Grace was shocked by her own strength, by the ease with which she was holding this guy who outweighed her by at least thirty pounds. She felt like she could take him down if she wanted to. Could take all three of them down without breaking a sweat.
The realization should have scared her. Instead, it felt exhilarating.
"Ow, ow, ow," the guy was saying, his free hand coming up to try to pry Grace's fingers loose. "Let go, you crazy bitch!"
But Grace didn't let go. She just held on, staring up at him with an intensity she could feel burning in her eyes.
"Hey!" Zion finally interrupted. Grace's eyes snapped to him, and she saw that he was watching her with a new kind of attention. The casual dismissal was gone, replaced by something sharper. More alert.
"Let him go," Zion said quietly. "I'll talk to you."
Grace held on for one more second, letting the guy feel the full extent of her grip, before releasing him.
He stumbled back, cradling his wrist and shooting her a look of pure venom. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Grace didn't answer. She was too busy trying to understand what had just happened, how she'd been able to do that.
Zion stood smoothly, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Lead the way."
Grace turned and strode out of the classroom, acutely aware of every eye following her. She could hear whispers erupting behind her, and could very well hear what they were saying.
Grace led Zion through the hallways and up another flight of stairs. Students pressed against lockers to let them pass, their conversations dying as they watched Grace and Zion climb toward the roof access door.
The roof was technically off-limits to students, but the lock had been broken for months and never fixed. Grace pushed through the door and stepped out into the open air, the cool breeze immediately hitting her flushed face.
She heard Zion follow behind her and heard the door close with a soft click.
Grace turned to face him, ready to demand answers, ready to finally understand what was happening to her.
"Tell me about werewolves," she said. "Tell me everything, I need to understand—”
But before Grace could say anything else or even finish turning around, Zion's hand shot out.
His fingers closed around her throat.
Grace's words cut off with a choked gasp as Zion lifted her off the ground by her neck. Her hands immediately went to his arm, clawing at it, trying to break his grip, but he was so much stronger than her newfound strength had been.
Her feet dangled in the air as she squirmed for release.
Zion's eyes were glowing. Actually glowing, a bright green that seemed to pierce right through her. And when his mouth moved, Grace saw fangs. Real, sharp fangs, and there was nothing human about them.
"Listen very carefully," Zion said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't know what you think you’re doing. But you don't get to grab my friends. You don't get to make demands. And you sure as hell don't get to drag me up here like you have any kind of authority."
Grace tried to speak, tried to explain, but she couldn't get any air past Zion's grip. Black spots were starting to dance across her vision.
"The next time you pull a stunt like that," Zion continued, his face inches from hers, "I'll send you to meet the slave traders on the other side. Do you understand me?"
Grace managed a jerky nod, terror flooding through her system.
Zion held her for one more second, his eyes boring into hers, before releasing her.
Grace fell hard, hitting the roof with an impact that sent pain shooting through her recently healed leg. She immediately curled in on herself, coughing and gasping for air, her hands going to her throat.
She could hear Zion walking away, his footsteps calm and measured, like he hadn't just choked her half to death.
The door opened and closed, and then Grace was alone on the roof, coughing and massaging her throat.
Zion…
He was unbelievably strong.