Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Old Bones

SAM POV

The black SUV sat waiting exactly where Marcus had left it, tucked off the main road under a cluster of dripping trees. Rain still fell steadily, though it had softened into a quiet drizzle that pattered against the leaves and the vehicle’s roof. I walked beside Marcus, my bare feet squelching in the mud, the torn remains of my trousers barely hanging on my hips. Every step reminded me I was half-naked, skin still buzzing from the shift and the run.

Marcus moved ahead of me without a word. His powerful body was completely exposed, rain sliding down the hard lines of his back and over the fresh wound on his side. The cut looked angry, red streaks mixing with the water, but he didn’t seem to care. He popped the trunk with a remote and reached inside, pulling out a black duffel bag.

He tossed a set of clothes at me — dark sweatpants and a plain hoodie. “Put those on.”

I caught them, surprised. “How did you know you’d need extra clothes?”

Marcus pulled on a pair of black sweatpants himself, the fabric clinging to his still-damp skin. He didn’t bother with the hoodie right away. For a moment he stood there fully naked again, muscles flexing as he adjusted the waistband. My eyes betrayed me. I stared at the deep V of his hips, the trail of dark hair leading down, the heavy weight between his legs. Heat slammed into me hard and fast, that familiar ache blooming low in my stomach. My mouth went dry. I forced myself to look away, cheeks burning.

“I keep spares in every vehicle,” he said, voice low and rough. “Any day I shift and I’m not close to the estate, I need them. Simple.”

I nodded quickly and turned slightly, peeling off what was left of my ruined trousers. The cold air hit my skin as I changed into the new clothes. While Marcus pulled the hoodie over his head, I slipped the burner phone out of my old pocket and tucked it deep into the new sweatpants. My fingers trembled a little. The guilt sat heavy in my chest, but I pushed it down.

We climbed into the front of the sedan this time. Marcus took the wheel. The inside of the car felt small, intimate. The scent of wet earth, blood, and his cedar-smoke smell filled the space. I could still feel the echo of the bond humming between us, warm now after the run, but always there.

Marcus started the engine and pulled onto the road. The wipers moved steadily across the windshield.

“Where are we going?” I asked, glancing at his profile. His jaw was tight, golden eyes focused on the dark road ahead.

“There’s an old cottage,” he said after a moment. “Where your father and I grew up. It’s been empty for years.”

I sat up a little straighter. A real spark of interest cut through the mess in my head. “You and Dad grew up there?”

He nodded once. The car wound through quieter roads, leaving the city lights behind us. Rain continued to fall, soft against the windows.

After a few minutes of silence I asked, “What was Elena texting you about earlier?”

Marcus’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “Probably one of her briefings. Pack update. Something I need to handle. It doesn’t matter right now.”

I didn’t push. The bond felt steadier when we weren’t fighting. For the first time in hours, the constant painful tug had eased into something almost comforting.

We drove for nearly twenty minutes before Marcus turned onto a narrow, overgrown path. The sedan bumped over roots and potholes until the headlights lit up an old wooden cottage nestled between tall trees. It looked forgotten. The roof sagged in places, dark shingles missing in patches. Vines climbed the walls like they were trying to pull the building back into the earth. One window was cracked, another boarded up. The front porch leaned slightly, wooden steps worn smooth by years of rain and time. It felt vulnerable. Exposed. Nothing like the fortress we lived in now.

Marcus killed the engine. “Come on.”

I followed him out of the car. The drizzle kissed my face as we walked up the creaky steps. Marcus pushed the front door open — it wasn’t even locked. Inside, the air smelled of old wood, dust, and faint cedar. Moonlight filtered through the dirty windows, casting pale stripes across the floor.

He flicked on a small battery lantern he’d grabbed from the car. The warm light revealed a modest living room. An old couch with faded fabric sat against one wall. A stone fireplace took up most of the far side, cold and filled with ash. Bookshelves lined another wall, some books still standing, others fallen over. The floorboards creaked under our weight.

“It looks… abandoned,” I said quietly, running my fingers over a dusty table. “Like no one’s been here in years.”

Marcus walked deeper into the house. “It hasn’t. Not really. After your father left and things changed, we stopped coming.”

He showed me the small kitchen next — old cabinets, a rusty sink, a wooden table with two mismatched chairs. Then a narrow hallway leading to three bedrooms. The largest one had a big bed frame but no mattress. Another smaller room still had children’s drawings faded on the walls. My chest tightened when I realized one of them might have been my father’s.

Marcus stopped in the doorway of the biggest bedroom. “My father couldn't have kids at first,” he said, voice low. “So he adopted your dad. Treated him like his own. Later, he had me. And then Elena.”

I turned to look at him. “He loved my dad?”

Marcus nodded. “Yeah. Even when…” He stopped, jaw flexing. His golden eyes flicked away for a second.

“Even when what?” I asked.

He changed the subject smoothly. “The world of werewolves isn’t something you understand in a day, Sam. Good and evil… they wear the same faces sometimes. You learn gradually. With time, you’ll come to terms with it. You’ll know how to tell them apart.”

I wanted to push on the “even when,” but the look on his face told me not to. Instead I walked over to the old window and stared out at the dark trees. The cottage felt strange — vulnerable and human in a way the estate never did. Like this place held real memories instead of just power.

The bond hummed softly between us. For a moment, standing there with Marcus in this forgotten house, things felt almost peaceful. Almost right.

Then my pocket vibrated.

The burner phone.

I froze.

Marcus turned slowly, his sharp gaze locking onto me. His golden eyes narrowed.

“I thought you left your phone at the estate.”