Chapter Forty-Two: Secret behind the Name

Sophie's POV

I watched Marcus's face as he fell silent, his expression oddly soft yet troubled in a way I'd never seen before.

"You're staring," he commented without looking at me, his lips quirking slightly.

"Just trying to figure you out." The words slipped out before I could stop them. After the emotional clusterfuck of the past few days - the basement confrontation, the party attack, and now this surprisingly peaceful afternoon at the school - I felt off-balance. Like the ground kept shifting under my feet every time I thought I had him pegged.

"And?"

"It's strange," I turned, watching a family of ducks glide across the lake's surface. "After everything that's happened, I never thought we'd have a moment like this."

Marcus turned slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"You know... calm? Normal?" I gestured between us. "No threats, no stress, no..." I trailed off, not wanting to mention basements or bullets or any of the chaos that usually defined our interactions.

"Normal is overrated," he said dryly, but there was no real bite to his words. We fell into step along the shore, our shoulders occasionally brushing in a way that sent unexpected sparks through my nervous system.

"Last night was..." I hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Interesting. Despite the chaos at the end, it was weird seeing so many people claim to be related to me."

"Pack connections run deep," Marcus said, skimming a stone across the water's surface. The stone bounced five times before sinking, perfectly controlled even in this simple act. "Most packs intermarry over generations. Creates complex family trees."

"Like that guy at the party who claimed to be my mother's second cousin's husband's nephew?" I rolled my eyes, picking up a stone of my own. "Pretty sure he was just trying to get close to the 'long-lost heir.'" My attempt at skipping the stone failed miserably, creating an ungraceful splash.

"Some connections are genuine," Marcus watched my pathetic throw with barely concealed amusement. "Pack bonds aren't just about politics. Blood recognizes blood, even across generations."

"Is that why everyone kept staring at me like they'd seen a ghost? One old lady actually burst into tears, saying I had all my mom's features except her eyes.

"You do." When I glanced at him, Marcus was studying my face with an intensity that made my breath catch. "It's not just the physical resemblance. There are... patterns. Ways of moving, expressions. Things that run in blood."

"Great. So I'm basically walking around with a giant 'I'm their's daughter' sign that everyone but me can read."

"And your family?" I asked, genuinely curious. "You never talk about them."

He paused mid-throw, something flickering across his face. "I'm an only child." The stone flew from his hand, cutting through the water with precision. "My parents believed in quality over quantity."

The confession surprised me. "That sounds... lonely."

"I had cousins." His voice remained neutral, but his shoulders tensed slightly. "Marcus Stone Sr. - my father - ran the pack differently than I do. He believed in keeping bloodlines pure, limiting pack size. My generation was small by design."

"But now the pack is huge," I observed, remembering the crowd from last night.

"Times change." He selected another stone, this one darker and heavier. "My father's methods had... drawbacks. I chose a different path."

The stone sank immediately, breaking his perfect streak. Something about the way he said 'drawbacks' made me hesitate to press further.

"Well, my apparent family tree seems pretty extensive," I said instead, trying to lighten the mood. "Those girls at the restaurant last night, they said they were my cousins. It was weird how they all seemed to know things about me."

"What kind of things?" His voice sharpened slightly.

"Little details. They kept calling me 'Little Soph' - which was weird because Victoria's the only one who's ever called me that before." I smiled at the memory. "They mentioned having aunts I've never met, and some twins from the West Coast pack. All of them apparently used to call me that when I was little."

Marcus went absolutely still beside me.

"Isn't that funny?" I continued, oblivious to his reaction, "The way they talked about the family, it was almost like Victoria could have been..." My smile still lingering. "...like she could have been part of my family all along without me knowing."

The change was instant and terrifying. Marcus's entire body went rigid, that peaceful expression shattering into something dark and dangerous. Before I could process what was happening, his hand clamped around my arm like an iron band.

"We're leaving. Now." His voice had dropped to that deadly quiet tone I'd learned to fear.

"What? Marcus, what's wrong?" I stumbled as he practically dragged me toward the car. "Did I say something-"

"Get in." He yanked open the passenger door with enough force to make the hinges groan.

The drive back was excruciating. Marcus's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so tight I could almost hear teeth grinding. The peaceful man from moments ago had vanished completely, replaced by this coiled spring of barely contained rage.

I pressed myself against the door, mind racing as trees whipped past at alarming speeds. What the hell had I said? It was just an innocent observation about Victoria and my cousins. Unless...

Unless it wasn't a coincidence at all.