Chapter 32

It had been three days since Marcus once again asked Amelia to leave. The difference this time was his wolf was refusing to show its presence at all. There were no late-night whimpers or howls. Marcus had reached out a couple times, trying to coax the beast into talking to him, but he received only silence in return. To say that his other half was upset with him would be an understatement. They would get through this, they had to. Otherwise, what kind of Alpha was he without his wolf?

His attention had been on the report he was making for the other packs about Dalton. They all needed to be made aware of who he was and what he had done. Rowen had submitted his official report the day after Dalton was sent packing, explaining how his scent matched the one at the crime scene of the photographer. Leading Rowen to believe he was responsible for the human’s death as well as the stalking incidents against Marcus and Amelia.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, interlocked his fingers behind his head, then leaned down to rest his elbows on the desk. He was tired; his eyes burned and his heart ached.

“You know what you need?” Jackson said, standing in the doorway. Marcus rotated his head up to look at Jackson, but did not respond. “You need some of Momma Birdie’s pie.” A soft smile took over Jackson’s otherwise chiseled features.

Marcus leaned back, ballooned his cheeks before blowing a sigh through his lips. Releasing his hands, he ran them down his face as if trying to wipe the suggestion away.

“When was the last time you saw your mom?” Jackson prodded as he made his way to sit across from Marcus.

“I dunno, a few months ago I guess,” Marcus answered, which earned him condescending clicks from Jackson as he shook his head.

“Shame, shame. You need to visit her more often,” Jackson scolded, leaning back in his chair.

Marcus had earned a spot on Jackson’s shit list this month. With not only chasing away their receptionist, twice, but also for seeming to want to shove his mate away. However, being the true friend he was, Jackson would not let Marcus completely run himself ragged. If anyone could talk some sense into this stubborn Alpha, it would be Momma Birdie.

Jackson suddenly stood up. Knowing that Marcus would not make the decision himself, he reached the desk and turned the computer monitor off.

“Hey!” Marcus complained, and quickly reached to turn the device back on, which just as quickly earned his hand a slap from Jackson.

“No, sir.” Jackson grabbed Marcus’ suit jacket from the back of the chair, then puffed out his chest. “As co-owner of this company and Beta of this pack, I am calling for the Alpha to step down for a few days, as I see him unfit for his duties.” His voice was stern and commanding.

Marcus stared at his friend, slack-jawed, stunned by the sudden demand for dominance. “Are you… excusing me from the company, Jax?” He slowly stood up.

“I am calling for the Alpha to take a mental health break, for the pack’s and his own good.” Jackson did not falter as he stared down the Alpha. “Go pay your momma a visit.” His voice was a little softer with the last sentence, as he held out Marcus’ jacket to him trying to peacefully coax his friend along. But he was also prepared to duke this out with Marcus if it came down to it. Jackson had never taken this much of a step over the hierarchy line, and was not sure how Marcus would take the challenge to his position.

Marcus narrowed his eyes at Jackson, straightened his shoulders, and elongated his spine to full height. This was what Jackson was hoping to avoid, and his wolf was right under the surface, prepared to jump in and help. Jackson tensed, ready for the lunge. Instead, Marcus’ shoulders slumped and his face seemed to fall. He knew Jackson was right. Grabbing his jacket and keys, he moved to the door, stopping briefly to place a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Jax. Thank you for always putting up with me.” His voice was solemn.

“Hey, that’s what brothers are for.” Jackson smiled and patted Marcus on the back, then gave him a little shove towards the door. “Now go. Recharge. We’ll see you when you get back.”

It wasn’t long before Marcus sat behind the steering wheel of his SUV. Seemingly on autopilot as he navigated traffic, he was heading towards the outskirts of the city limits where numerous members of the pack lived.

A quiet neighborhood with a cul de sac.

Slowly, he drove towards one of the driveways before pulling in and parking behind an older car. The sounds of kids laughing and giggling caught his attention as he stepped from the vehicle. A handful of children skipped from the front door; they ranged in size and colors, but the oldest could not have been more than eight, holding a bag of goodies of some sort. A quick sniff of the air and the smell of cookies and other baked goods filled the air.

“Thank you, Nana Birdie!” The tallest waved back into the house before taking off after the smaller ones. Then a woman appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on the colorful apron tied around her waist. She was a short and stout, with raven-colored hair to match his own, and hazel gray eyes. She did not appear to be any more than 30 years old. If Marcus and her stood side by side, people would think brother and sister instead of mother and son—a benefit of being a werewolf, they aged slower than humans.

Their eyes met, and she gave a soft smile. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” She placed her hands on her hips.

“Hey, Momma,” Marcus said sheepishly as he slowly approached the steps to the front porch.

“Well don’t just stand there, come give a hug.” She held out her arms. He quickly skipped up the steps and embraced her. Then she held him at arm's length. “Here, let me get a look at ya.” She grabbed his chin and tilted his face all around, then worked her sight down his form. “You don’t look all that great, kiddo. Come on, I just finished putting lunch together when the pups came bounding in for their afternoon snack.” She waved for him to follow her into the house.

Not much had changed since the days when he lived here. Family pictures littered the walls, along with knick-knacks from vacations long past. He paused at a large photo of a man who looked just like him, only with brown curls styled on top of his head. The same green eyes stared back at him. I hope I’m making you proud, Dad, Marcus thought to himself before turning away and sliding into one of the chairs surrounding a kitchen table.

Birdie set a plate homemade lasagna in front of him before sitting herself. “So, tell me what’s been going on.” She ushered him to speak.

“Momma, I know you keep tabs on all of us. You probably know more than me by now.” Marcus shook his fork at her.

“Yes, yes, but I do enjoy hearing it from you.” She smiled before shoving a forkful of the saucy noodles into her mouth.

Marcus smiled, then shook his head and started talking about all the things that had happened since the last time he saw her. She added a comment here or there.

Then he told her about Amelia, and what had occurred between the two of them as well as what he had done to her.

By the time he was done, the plates were empty.

Birdie gently placed her fork on her plate before she eyed her son hard. “Marcus James Wolfe,” she half growled at him, “I oughta knock you upside your head with my wooden spoon. Factory reset your ass. I know I raised you better than that.” Her eyes were narrowed at him.

He immediately slunk back in his chair, much like a scolded child would.

“If that girl is your mate, you should start acting like it, regardless of her species. Which from what you said, she doesn’t care much anyway.” Her tone was still reprimanding. “If you let her go, there will always be a hole in your heart you can’t fill.” She touched her chest, as her eyes landed on the picture of her late husband.

“I know, I know. But—” Marcus went to explain himself, but was interrupted.

“No, obviously you don’t know. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here trying to make yourself feel better and convince me your decisions were stupid.”

“But what if she had been working with Dalton? I smelled his wolf on her too, prior to the fight,” he interjected.

“From what it sounds like to mem you’re overthinking things once again. You said she had been out with a friend. Well, what if that friend was working with Dalton, hmm?” Birdie’s hands were moving as she spoke. “You said the scent was not that strong on her anyway. Her friend could have given her a hug. You know how tracking works, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marcus mumbled as he bowed his head.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” she chided him, knowing he knew not to mumble at the kitchen table.

He spoke louder. “I said yes, ma’am.”

“Much better.” She stood up and gathered their plates. “Now, I suggest you hang out here and think about what you’ve done to that poor girl, and how to make it right,” Birdie added as she placed the items in the dishwasher. “Maybe go weed the garden with me to atone for your crimes.”

She gave a wicked smile as she turned back to him, which earned her an exasperated groan from Marcus.

“Come on, let's get those hands dirty.” His mom was practically dragging him out the French doors off the kitchen that led to the backyard garden. She did not care that he was wearing a designer suit, or fancy work shoes; knowing his mom she would not let him change either.

So, there they were working side by side with different chores while he mulled over everything his mom had said to him.