Chapter 29: THE FIRST GIFT

Joyce's POV

I stared at the package on my pillow like it might explode. My hands would not stop shaking as I picked up the card and read it again.

It's nine days until Christmas Eve. Does that mean I’d get a gift every day, for nine days?.

I sat on the bed and carefully unwrapped the paper. Inside was a wooden box. I lifted the lid.

An old book. The leather binding is worn soft with age.

Wuthering Heights. First edition.

My breath caught. I had told Dalton once, years ago, when we were still together, that this was my favourite book and I dream of owning a first edition someday when I could afford it.

A piece of paper slipped out from between the pages, and I unfolded it with shaky fingers.

I bought this five years ago. Three weeks before I left. I was going to give it to you for Christmas. I wanted to see your face light up when you opened it. Instead, I broke your heart and kept this in my desk drawer like a coward. I have looked at it every day since, wondering if I would ever get the chance to give it to you. I know a book cannot fix what I did. But maybe it can show you that I never stopped thinking about you. That you were always the one.

~Dalton

I read the note three times. Then I pressed it against my chest.

He had kept this for five years.

I stood and walked to the door before I could talk myself out of it. The hallway was quiet. Most wolves were on patrol, and others were sleeping.

Dalton's office was on the first floor. Light showed under the door.

I knocked once and pushed it open without waiting for an answer.

He sat behind his desk, surrounded by maps and reports.

He looked up when I entered. "Joyce. I did not think you would be awake."

I held up the book. "You kept this for five years."

He stood slowly. "I did."

"Why?" My voice cracked. "Why would you keep it when you knew we were over?"

"Because I was not ready to let you go, even when I knew I had to." He walked around the desk but kept his distance. "I told myself I would give it to you someday. When I had earned the right to stand in front of you again."

The honesty in his voice made my chest hurt. I wanted to stay angry.

But I was so tired of fighting the bond and the feelings that never went away.

"Why nine gifts?" I asked quietly.

"One for each day until Christmas Eve. To prove I am not the same person who left." He took a careful step closer. "I know I cannot undo the past, but I can show you who I am now. And hope that maybe someday you will trust me again."

I looked at the book and the man standing in front of me with hope and fear written all over his face.

"I do not know if I can do this," I whispered. "If I can open myself up to you again and risk having you destroy me."

"I know. And I am not asking you to decide tonight, or tomorrow, or even next week." His voice was soft. "I am just asking you to let me try. To give me the chance to earn back what I threw away."

I wanted to close the distance between us and let the bond pull us together.

But trust was not something you could force. It had to be built.

"Okay," I said finally. "You get nine days. But that does not mean I forgive you. It just means I am willing to see what you do with the chance."

Relief filled his face. "That is all I am asking for."

We stood there looking at each other. The air between us felt heavy with all the words we had not said and all the time we had lost.

"You look exhausted," I said.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Three victims are poisoned. We don’t know where Vane is, and now, this information about Elias Cross. I cannot afford to sleep when my pack is in danger."

"You cannot protect anyone if you collapse from exhaustion."

"I will sleep when this is over."

"At least take a break. Eat something. You are no good to anyone like this."

He opened his mouth to argue but his stomach growled loudly. We both froze.

Then I laughed. The sound surprised us both.

"Fine," he said with a small smile. "I will eat, but only if you join me."

We went to the kitchen together. I made sandwiches while he leaned against the counter and watched.

"Harper told me about Elias Cross," I said as I sliced bread. "She said he is worse than Vane."

"Victoria is running background checks. So far we have found nothing. Whoever he is, he knows how to stay hidden."

"That makes him more dangerous."

"Yes." Dalton took the plate I offered. "Which is why I need to find him before he finds us."

We ate in silence. The clock above the stove ticked past midnight.

"Tell me something," I said. "Something that has nothing to do with Hunters or poison or war."

He looked surprised. "Like what?"

"Anything. Just talk to me like we are normal people having a normal conversation."

He thought for a moment. "I started reading fiction again. I had not read anything except pack reports and security briefings for years. But I found out that you started writing, so I went to the library and checked out every book you had recommended before I left."

"You did?"

"I wanted to understand what you loved about stories and what made you want to write them." He set down his sandwich. "And I realized I missed the escape. The way a good book can make you forget the world for a while."

Something warm unfurled in my chest. "What was your favorite?"

"The one about the man who loses everything and has to rebuild himself from nothing. I do not remember the title. But it made me think about second chances."

"And what did you decide?"

"I decided that change is possible. But only if you are willing to do the work." His eyes found mine. "I am doing the work, Joyce. Every day… even when it hurts."

I believed him. That was the terrifying part. I could see the truth in his face and hear it in his voice.

"I should go to bed," I said softly. "Tomorrow is going to be long."

He walked me to the stairs. He stood at the bottom looking up at the second floor.

"Thank you for the book," I said. "It means more than you know."

"There are eight more. One each day until Christmas Eve." He smiled. "I hope you like them."

I climbed the stairs and felt his eyes on me the whole way. When I reached my room, I looked back. He was still standing there, hands in his pockets, watching.

I closed the door and leaned against it. The book sat on my nightstand where I had left it. I picked it up and held it close.

Five years he had kept this.

Maybe trust could be rebuilt.

I was still holding the book when someone pounded on the door downstairs. Voices shouted and footsteps thundered through the hallway.

I ran to my door and opened it. Dalton was already halfway up the stairs.

"What is happening?" I asked.

"I do not know, but stay here."

He disappeared down the hall and I followed anyway because staying put had never been my strong suit.

Victoria stood in the foyer with three guards. Her face was white. She turned when Dalton appeared.

"We have a problem. The body we thought was a Hunter operative? He just woke up in the morgue, and he is asking to speak to Alpha Grey about a deal."