Chapter 18

MARCUS'S POV

She doesn't ask me about it. I am glad she doesn't yet I feel like she wants to and that makes me uncomfortable. I drop her at her place and she steps out then turns to look at me. I can see the question in her eyes. I can almost hear them as her lips move to speak. She pauses and suddenly the question fades.

“Thank you for yesterday. I really had fun. Jonathan's a better cook than you even describe him to be,” she says. I want to tell her she's lying. I want to say that she is not asking the question that's on her mind but I keep those words within me and nod instead.

“It was good having you over. We rarely have visitors these days. There is rarely someone I…can have fun with,” I say and she nods.

“I guess I have to freshen up. I have work to do today. Don't want you having to lay me off, now, do I?” She asks me.

“I wouldn't want that too,” I reply and watch her as she walks inside before I get back in the car and drive home.

†

I pour a glass of whiskey and throw it all down in one gulp then, watching the leaves sway under the breeze and asking myself the same question I have been asking since I woke up.

“What did she see, exactly?”

I down the glass and pour myself another when I sense Anne in the room. I look up to see her looking down at me from the top of the stairs.

“You don't look so good,” she says.

“Hmm? I feel great. Why would you say that?”

She shrugs as she descends the stairs, her eyes never leaving mine.

“You are trying to get yourself drunk by nine in the morning which is very early for you. Something happened last night that you're trying to forget,” she observes and raises her sleeve higher up her shoulder.

“Is that so? Well, nothing happened last night.”

“Got your heart broken?”

“What does that even mean? For me to get my heart broken would mean that I gave someone the ability to break that heart and as it stands, there is no one with that ability.”

She watches me then she nods and raises her hands in kick surrender.

“So what are you drinking?”

“Elliot does this all the time and you don't give him shit for it. Why are you suddenly deeply interested in my drinking habits?” I ask her.

“You barely drink and when you do, something is wrong. That makes me nervous because you are usually very chill about many things so when you are suddenly stressed about something, It makes me nervous,” She says.

“There is nothing wrong. I have just decided to drink earlier than usual,” I reply and she nods then walks to one of the chairs, sits and pours herself a glass as well. I quickly remind myself that she is old enough to drink. She sits back and looks out of the window.

“You remember the first time dad showed me his wolf?” She asks me. A small smile flits across my face. I nod.

“Yes, I remember how you screamed and fainted then woke up hours later and asked to see it again,” I say to her, unable to hold back the chuckle. She laughs with me.

“What? Why do you still laugh about that? I was eight, crying out loud. It was a very scary thing to see. I mean, did you see how large he was? It was about the size of a polar bear,” she says to me and my laughter intensifies.

“It's actually bigger than a polar bear,” I say to her and she throws her hands up again.

“Point is that dad was very strong. He was probably the strongest wolf I have ever seen. I saw him move, I saw him fight. I was in awe of him and now I have seen you move and I have seen you fight. I am in awe of you as well. You are every bit as strong as he was but…” she stops talking, tapping her fingers on the glass instead like she was communicating with Morse code.

“I fear that you are overcompensating. I fear that you don't want lives to be lost so badly that you may make the mistake of weakening our hand. I am not Elliot. I am now scolding you. I am just telling you my concerns,” she says. I nod slowly then gesture at the bookshelf.

“I read my first book about our wars back there, about the times we fought for ancient kings across the centuries, the time we split off to be on our own and to stop serving kings. I remember thinking that war must be glorious, a way for men to prove themselves to their packs and their mates. I was terribly wrong. The first time I saw a wolf die in battle, I watched him fall and the blood flow from him until he twitched his last…there was no glory there. There was no honor and there certainly was no pride to be taken from it. War is a dirty thing and must be used as a last resort.”

“But you are not scared of it, right?” She asks me. I nod slowly.

“I am not scared of it at all. I will fight when there is need but there is no need now. There isn't,” I say. I look at her, silently urging her to see. She blows breath through puffed cheeks then she nods.

“I trust you. You know I do. I always have and I always will,” she says.

“Thank you “ I say to her and I am about to take to my cup again when the door opens and Elliot walks in. His face is terrible, filled with such, rage, it seems to fill the entire room.

“Alpha Marcus,” he says quietly. I know him, I can sense the murder in his voice.

“What is it?”

“Gavin, Dona's cousin, has taken over the areas north if the black woods and declared it to be a part of the Red moon territory. He challenges us to drive him from this claim and his cousin doesn't seem eager to stop him. Give the word and I will bring him your tongue,”

I raise the glass and see the thin lines of crack start to form on it as my grip tightens ever so slightly. I place the glass on the chair and stand.

“Take twenty of our best wolves and come with me,” I say to him. He bows sharply and walks away.

“What are you going to do?” Anne asks from behind.

“Give them a taste of this thing they long for,” I say to her and walk away.