Chapter 49 Chapter Forty-Nine
The trees thinned as they crossed the old threshold into Blackthorn territory, the familiar scent of pine and ash settling like ghosts on Julian’s skin. He hadn’t been home in a week, but it already felt foreign. Too quiet. Too steeped in judgment.
The gates opened for them.
No fanfare. No welcome. Just the groan of iron and the weight of eyes watching from the shadows.
By the time the vehicle rolled to a stop outside the packhouse, the moon had climbed high, casting the manor in a wash of silver. Julian stepped out first, his boots crunching against gravel with a heaviness that matched the churn in his gut. The others followed, silent.
“You’ll both rest tonight,” James said at last, his voice clipped but tired. “At first light, we’ll convene in the Hall of Vows.”
Julian gave a slight nod. He hadn’t forgotten the rite—only tried not to think about it. That ancient hall had borne witness to every oath passed through their bloodline. Of course it would witness his surrender.
“The Council will send an official,” Elias added, “to confirm the rite and ensure neither of you retains authority over the pack.”
Jace exhaled sharply through his nose but stayed silent.
“It’s not just a few words you’ll recite,” James went on. “The ritual drains every ounce of hold you have. You’ll feel it in your bones. In your blood. It severs your link to the land—and to the wolves who once followed you. That kind of separation comes at a cost.” His gaze shifted to Julian. “It’s painful. Exhausting. But necessary.”
Vanessa reached out and rested a hand on her son’s arm. “Get some sleep,” she said softly. “Your body will recover—but it may take days before you feel whole again.”
The moment they stepped through the doors of the Blackthorn packhouse, Julian’s voice cut into Jace’s mind, sharp with frustration.
“I don’t have time to recover from the ritual.”
Jace didn’t miss a beat.
“That’s why we’re skipping it.”
Julian halted in the corridor.
“Skipping it?” His jaw clenched. “When the Council comes sniffing around and realizes we left without formally handing our titles back—”
Jace folded his arms, calm as ever.
“Then we’ll deal with it. But your father holding off the ritual until morning works in our favor. Right now, you’re still Alpha. You can walk out of here. But if you go through with the rite, what’s to stop your father from Alpha ordering you to stay on pack lands?”
Julian exhaled sharply through his nose. He hated it—but Jace was right. If he completed the rite, he’d be bound by whatever terms his father set. Stripped of his title, yes—but also of his power. His leverage. And worse, he’d be forced to obey.
“Then we’re not just dodging our fathers,” Julian muttered. “We’ll be fugitives in the Council’s eyes.”
“Maybe,” Jace said. “But with the ritual, we’re prisoners either way. Your choice.”
Julian dragged a hand down his face, the weight of it all pressing heavy on his shoulders.
“Jace, I can’t let you risk your reputation—your freedom—for me. I’m doing this alone.”
Jace scoffed.
“Yeah… not happening.”
Julian shot him a look, but Jace only grinned.
“I’m still officially your Beta, remember? And lucky for us, I trained and hired most of the grave-shift patrol and surveillance crew.” He shrugged. “They’ll do what I say.”
Then, with a crooked smirk:
“Or shall I say… they’ll do what their Alpha orders them to do.”
Julian’s wolf stirred the moment he reached his room, prowling just beneath the surface. The pull of separation gnawed at him—at them both. His mate was out there. Somewhere. And every second apart felt like a slow, aching unraveling.
He took a long, scalding shower, trying to ease the tension coiled in his muscles. But the water did little. When he finally collapsed into bed, it wasn’t to rest for the ritual—it was to gather strength for what was to came.
His wolf howled him awake just before dawn.
Julian’s eyes snapped open.
No grogginess. No hesitation.
He pulled back the covers, already dressed in jeans and a black tee. He slipped on his sneakers, grabbed only what he needed—cash, keys—and left everything else behind. No phone. No pack device. Nothing that could trace him.
The hallway was quiet as he stepped out. Jace waited at the top of the stairs, similarly dressed, similarly tense. Their eyes met in silent understanding, and together, they descended.
They moved quickly but silently toward the front doors.
Then a shadow shifted in the corner of the room.
Julian stilled.
Jace froze.
A figure rose from the armchair nestled near the hearth—one Julian hadn’t noticed when they passed through earlier.
Shit.
If it was James or Elias, this entire plan was dead.
But as the figure stepped into the sliver of golden light spilling from the hallway—
Julian’s breath caught.
It was his mother.
Vanessa stood barefoot, silk robe tied loose over a nightgown, a half-full glass of wine in one hand. Her eyes shimmered with too much knowing.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then she stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on Julian’s chest, and said with a wry smile, “James says I drink too much… maybe he’s right.”
Her fingers lingered for just a moment longer—soft, warm, forgiving—then drifted to his cheek in a tender caress. “Because I know I shouldn’t be seeing you two right now.”
She winked.
And without another word, she turned and padded up the stairs.
Julian watched her disappear into the shadows.
Then he exhaled, a bittersweet smile tugging at his mouth.
“She always did know everything,” he murmured.
They stepped out into the stillness of early dawn, the cold biting at their skin as they made their way to Jace’s car parked just beyond the packhouse steps.
No words passed between them.
Not yet.
Jace unlocked the doors with a quiet chirp and slid into the driver’s seat. Julian moved around to the passenger side and got in, the silence inside the car heavy with anticipation.
Just as Jace reached to toss a briefcase into the backseat, Julian’s brow furrowed.
“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the case.
Jace paused mid-throw, glanced at him, then brought it back into his lap. With a flick of the latches, he opened it.
Julian blinked.
Stacks of cash. Neatly bundled. An entire briefcase full.
“The hell, Jace?” Surprise seeping from Julian’s tone. “Why do you have a briefcase full of cash?”
Jace gave him a side eye. “For emergencies, of course.”
Julian shot him a look that was equal parts bewildered and impressed.
“We have to stay off the radar, remember?” Jace added, shutting the case and placing it on the floor behind him. “No phones. No credit cards. Nothing traceable.”
Julian leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his damp hair.
“Right,” he breathed. “Off the grid.”
Jace pulled onto the long gravel road, tires crunching under the weight of silence as the packhouse vanished behind them. The sky was still dark, the first sliver of dawn bleeding into the horizon like a warning. The road ahead was straight—but what waited at the end was not.
The gates came into view.
So did the patrol.
Six guards stood directly in front of it, feet planted and unmoving. A seventh—Adolfo—peeled away from the others and began approaching the driver’s side as Jace eased the car to a stop.
Jace lowered the window with a quiet hiss as Adolfo leaned towards the opening. “Good morning, Alpha. Morning, Beta.”
Julian gave a stiff nod. “Morning.”
“Adolfo,” Jace added, trying to keep it light.
Julian didn’t waste time. “Open the gate.”
The man shifted uncomfortably. His throat bobbed. “I’m… I’m terribly sorry, Alpha Julian. But I’ve been given direct orders by your father. No one goes through without him being notified.”
Julian’s voice dropped an octave. “That wasn’t a request. I gave you an order.”
Adolfo’s hand came up, palm pressing against the hollow of his throat like the words physically strained him. “With all due respect… it is pack knowledge that both you and Beta Jace have been stripped of your titl—”
Julian’s growl cut through him like a blade.
His wolf surged forward, bleeding into every inch of his presence. He didn’t have time for this—no patience for disloyalty masked as protocol.
His eyes darkened. His fangs lengthened, catching the dull glow of the car’s dashboard light. Power laced through his next words—no longer just his voice, but one mixed with his beast, wild and commanding.
“I Alpha order you… and your men… to step aside and open... the fucking… gate.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the energy shifted.
A force like gravity dropped over the guards. The men at the gate flinched—then dropped to one knee as if pulled down by invisible hands. Their heads bowed instinctively, as if resisting was no longer an option.
Adolfo stumbled back, wide-eyed. Then turned and sprinted to the gate panel. The heavy groan of machinery echoed through the still air as the iron gates began to part.
Jace exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. “Holy shit.”
He floored it before the gates were fully open, tires skidding over the gravel. The car cleared the threshold and they were out.
“That,” Jace said, grinning with breathless awe, “was badass. I’ve never seen you do that before.”
Julian leaned his head back against the seat, jaw clenched, fingers digging into his temple. “Yeah, well… now I see why Alphas don’t like doing it. It feels like something cracked behind my eyes.”
They drove for nearly an hour in silence.
The farther they got from the packhouse, the more Julian’s pulse steadied… but the ache for his mate remained. Like a tether stretched taut in his chest, threatening to snap.
At last, Jace turned onto a cracked service road lined with rusting signs and overgrown brush. At the end of the path stood a nondescript garage — faded red paint peeling from the siding, a dented Coke machine leaning uselessly against one wall.
A single motion sensor light flickered on overhead.
As they pulled up, the corrugated garage door groaned and began to rise. Inside, beneath yellowed fluorescents, stood a broad-shouldered man in a grease-stained jumpsuit. He wiped his hands on a rag, then stuffed it in his back pocket as the car rolled in.
Jace killed the engine.
The man gave a nod, eyes flicking from Jace to Julian. “’Bout time.”
Jace stepped out first. “Good to see you too, Mack.”
They did that half-handshake, half-hug thing — quick, but familiar.
Julian climbed out on the other side, eyeing the place with quiet scrutiny. The walls were lined with old tires, tools, and shelves full of parts. A battered fan oscillated lazily in the corner.
Mack reached behind the workbench and hauled out two weathered backpacks. He tossed one to Jace, the other to Julian.
“Everything you asked for’s in there,” Mack said, voice rough like gravel. He pulled a crumpled cigarette from behind his ear and lit it with a snap of his fingers. “Burners, fake IDs, clothes in the sizes I was given — if they don’t fit, tough shit.”
Julian unzipped his pack just enough to glimpse the contents. It looked legit. Efficient. No frills.
Mack exhaled smoke and reached into his pocket again, fishing out a small set of keys on a twisted ring. He tossed them underhand to Jace.
“Take the rustbucket. ’97 Impala. Hood’s ugly as sin, and the A/C don’t work — which means nobody’s gonna look twice at it.”
Jace caught the keys with a grin. “Perfect.”
Mack gave them directions to a cabin about an hour away—remote, off-grid, and deep in the woods. He assures them it’s safe, “No one’s gonna come looking there. Hell, no one even knows it exists but me. It’s my own little hideout.”
As he studies the two men—both their heights towering, broad-shouldered, looking like manufactured soldiers—he squints and jerks his chin toward Julian. “He’s like you, ain’t he?”
Jace glances at Julian, then back at Mack. “No questions, remember?”
Mack lets out a raspy laugh, dragging from his cigarette. “Right… no questions. I probably don’t wanna know about all the weird shit going on in this world anyway.”
Jace tosses him a wad of cash. “Thanks, Mack.”
“Don’t mention it,” Mack replies, flicking ash onto the concrete. “I told you… I’m forever in your debt.”
Mack steps back as Julian and Jace climb into the Impala. As Jace reverses out of the garage, Julian eyes the man, then asks, “He knows what you are?”
Jace keeps his eyes on the rearview as he answers, “Yeah. I came through this town over a year ago—pack business. Some land negotiations and stock audits for one of our allied territories.”
Julian raises a brow but lets him continue.
“I was heading home one night, driving down this empty stretch of highway when I saw it—five guys in ski masks trying to jack a mechanic shop. Guns drawn, and Mack was alone. I should have done what we’re supposed to do, follow Council protocol—don’t interfere with human affairs—but I couldn’t just drive past it.”
He pauses, jaw tight with memory. “I knew what they’d do. Rob him blind and kill him anyway. So I stopped. They fired at me, and I shifted mid-air. Tore through three of them before the other two even processed what happened. The last one pissed himself and ran.”
Julian lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”
Jace nods once. “Mack’s not perfect. He runs his business in the gray sometimes, but he’s got a wife, two kids, and he’s kept my secret without flinching. So yeah… knowing him came in handy tonight.”
Jace shifted into drive, eyes scanning the empty road ahead as the garage door rumbled shut behind them.
Julian leaned back in the passenger seat, the weight of the night catching up to him, and muttered under his breath—
“He sure as hell did.”