Chapter 43 Save Your Words
Maddox knew it was wrong to keep ghosting Grace.
The guilt sat heavy in his chest every time his phone buzzed with another missed call, every time he saw her name flash across his screen, and let it go to voicemail. He could imagine her voice, probably getting more desperate with each unanswered attempt, and it made something twist painfully inside him.
But he couldn't face her. Not yet.
He didn't want to talk about why his uncle had struck him. Didn't want to explain the pack politics and the rules about protecting unmated females and all the ways Maddox had failed in his duty. Didn't want to see the questions in Grace's eyes when she asked about the bruise on his face. He didn’t know how to tell her the truth.
And he definitely didn't want to lie to her or look into those grey eyes and feed her some story about falling down the stairs when they both knew it was bullshit.
So running away had become his quiet way of clearing his head. His cowardly way of avoiding problems he didn't know how to solve.
Maddox's hands gripped the steering wheel of his car as he drove through the darkening streets. The sun had set an hour ago, painting the sky in shades of purple and black. Most people were home having dinner with their families, living their normal lives.
Maddox envied that normalcy.
His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, carrying him away from town, away from the questions and complications, toward the one place that always brought him a strange kind of peace.
The cemetery was quiet when Maddox arrived. Empty except for the rows of headstones standing silent sentinel in the growing darkness. Maddox knew the path by heart, had walked it so many times his feet could find the way even in pitch black.
His mother's grave was in the older section, beneath a large oak tree that provided shade in summer and shelter in winter. The headstone was simple, just her name and dates and a short inscription that his father had chosen.
Beloved Wife and Mother
Maddox sank down onto the grass beside the stone, his back against the oak tree. He stared at his mother's name, trying to summon her face from memory.
It was getting harder. The details were fuzzy at the edges, becoming less clear with each passing year. He could remember her smile, or he thought he could. Could remember the sound of her laugh. But sometimes he wondered if those were real memories or just things he'd constructed from photographs and stories.
"Hey, Mom," Maddox said quietly, his voice barely audible in the stillness. "Sorry, it's been a while."
The headstone didn't answer, of course. But Maddox had long ago stopped expecting it to.
"Things are complicated right now," he continued, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Really complicated. You remember Grace? The one I said you'd definitely like, I think. She's smart and brave and my best friend."
Maddox paused, a bitter smile crossing his face. "I slept with her. And I know I shouldn't have because she was in heat and not thinking clearly and I should have had more self-control. Uncle Matteo agrees, by the way. He made that pretty clear."
His hand went unconsciously to his cheek, to the bruise that was already starting to fade thanks to his wolf healing.
"The thing is, I've been in love with her for years. Since we were kids, as you already know, I told you…” He chuckled, “…but that night felt like everything I'd ever wanted. And now I don't know if it was real or just the heat talking. Don't know if she actually wanted me or if her biology was just looking for the nearest available male."
Maddox leaned his head back against the tree, staring up through the branches at the stars beginning to emerge in the darkening sky.
"And then she told me she'd already slept with someone else. Enzo. Just a few days before me. So now I don't know what we are or what any of it means."
The words hung in the air, and Maddox felt some of the tension in his chest ease slightly. There was something about this place, about talking to his mother's memory, that made it easier to sort through the chaos in his head.
"I'm avoiding her, Mom," Maddox admitted. "I know that's shitty. I know she probably needs me right now. But I don't know what to say to her, I don’t know how to face her when I'm this confused about everything."
He sat there for a while longer, letting the quiet of the cemetery seep into his bones. This was his process. Come here, talk to his mother, sort through his feelings. Then he'd either go for a run in wolf form to burn off the restless energy, or he'd find some alcohol to numb the edges of his emotions.
Sometimes, when things got really bad, he'd cut himself. Just small cuts, nothing too deep, it was just enough to feel something physical instead of the emotional mess swirling inside him. Just enough to have pain he could control instead of pain that controlled him.
Maddox pulled out his pocket knife, looking at the blade glinting in the moonlight. The scars on his forearms were faint, mostly healed thanks to his wolf genes, but he could still see them if he looked closely.
He pressed the blade against his skin, felt the cold metal, the promise of release.
But then his phone buzzed.
Maddox looked at the screen. Not Grace this time. It was Matteo.
Need you to run an errand. Pick up supplies from the store on Fifth. List attached.
Maddox sighed and put the knife away. The moment had passed anyway.
"Duty calls," he said to the headstone. "I'll come back soon. Promise."
He stood, brushing grass off his jeans, and headed back to his car.
The errand took longer than expected. The store was about to close and the clerk was irritated about having to help one more customer. By the time Maddox had everything on his uncle's list and was heading back, it was fully dark.
Maddox's thoughts drifted as he drove, circling back to Grace like they always did. He wondered what she was doing. If she was okay. If she was still trying to call him or if she'd given up.
The guilt gnawed at him again, sharp and insistent.
He'd go back tonight and talk to her. Explain things as best he could. Stop being such a coward and face whatever came next.
The decision made, Maddox felt slightly better as he turned onto his street, the ‘FOR SALE’ sign still stood proudly in front of Grace’s old home, he didn’t let his eyes linger as he drove past it to his house.
Then he saw the car in his driveway.
A luxury vehicle, sleek and expensive, the kind that screamed money and power. Black with chrome accents that gleamed even in the darkness.
Maddox knew that car.
He'd seen it before, parked outside the school. Had seen Enzo climb out of it, moving with that casual confidence that came from never having to worry about money or status or fitting in.
What the hell was Enzo doing at their house?
Maddox parked on the street, his movements slow and cautious. Something in the air felt wrong, his instincts were screaming at him even though he couldn't identify the specific threat.
He approached the front door cautiously. It was slightly ajar, just a crack, not enough to be obvious but enough that Maddox could see a sliver of the interior.
His pulse spiked.
The door should never be left open like that. His uncle was obsessive about home security, about making sure the house was locked up tight. An open door meant something was very wrong.
Maddox pushed the door open fully and rushed inside.
The scene that greeted him would be burned into his memory forever.
His uncle Matteo was on the floor in the middle of the living room. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and spreading across the hardwood. His shirt was torn and soaked through, revealing the terrible wound in his chest.
And standing over him, one hand literally inside Matteo's chest cavity, was Enzo.
Enzo's hand was buried wrist-deep in Matteo's chest, fingers wrapped around something vital. Blood covered his arm up to the elbow, dripping onto the floor in thick droplets. Matteo's body was convulsing, his eyes wide and unseeing, his mouth open in a silent scream.
Enzo's head snapped up at the sound of Maddox's entrance. His eyes went wide, shock and something that looked like panic crossing his features.
"Hey?" Enzo said, his voice strained. "This isn't what it looks like."
But Maddox wasn't hearing him. Couldn't hear anything over the roaring in his ears, the rage that exploded through his system like a bomb going off.
That was his uncle. The man who'd taught him how to control his wolf, how to be a man, how to survive in a world that wanted to crush people like them.
And Enzo had his hand inside his chest.
"Get away from him!" Maddox roared, the words coming out more animal than human.
He was already shifting, already letting his wolf surge to the surface. His bones cracked and reformed, his muscles expanded, and fur erupted across his skin. The transformation that usually took careful concentration happened in seconds, driven by pure rage and the overwhelming need to protect his pack.
"Maddox, wait," Enzo started, pulling his hand free from Matteo's chest. "I can explain—"
"Liar!" Maddox's voice was barely recognizable now, distorted by his partial shift. "I can smell your scent all over him. I can see your hand covered in his blood."
Maddox was already beyond listening. Beyond rational thought. All he could see was Matteo's broken body, the blood spreading across the floor, the life draining from the only family he had left.
Blood must have blood.
"Blood must have blood," Maddox growled, his body coiled and ready to spring.
Enzo's expression shifted, recognition and understanding crossing his features. He knew what those words meant. Knew what Maddox was about to do.
And he launched himself at Enzo with a roar that shook the walls.