Chapter 22 Father-Daughter Bonding (Ember's POV)
I stood up from the table, needing to move, needing air. The silver card burned in my pocket like it was made of actual fire.
"Em, wait." Trey caught my arm as I headed for the exit.
I stopped but didn't turn around. "I need space right now."
"Not until we talk about this." He moved in front of me, blocking my path. "You can't seriously be considering Grimm's offer."
"I'm not." The words came out automatic, defensive.
"You said you didn't know if refusing was the right choice."
"Because I don't!" My voice rose, and several students looked over. I lowered it, leaning closer. "Trey, your pack is going to exile you. My father is a hunter who might try to kill me. Grimm's the only one offering me something that doesn't end in tragedy."
"He's offering you a different tragedy." Trey's jaw was tight. "You felt something when he touched you. I saw your face. What was it?"
The question made me hesitate. Because I had felt something. That pull of power recognizing power, my wolf responding to his in ways that had nothing to do with mate bonds or attraction.
It had felt dangerous. Wrong. But also intoxicating in a way I didn't want to examine too closely.
"Nothing," I lied. "Just my wolf reacting to an Alpha's dominance display."
"Bullshit." But he didn't push further. "Look, I know things are bad right now. I know you feel trapped. But running to Grimm Ashworth isn't the answer. He's dangerous, Em. More dangerous than my pack or your father or any of this."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've heard the stories." He glanced around, making sure no one was listening. "Grimm doesn't build packs. He builds cults. Wolves so loyal to him they'd die on command. That's not freedom, that's a different kind of cage."
I wanted to argue, to point out that at least it was a cage I'd be choosing. But the rogues blocking his path earlier flashed through my mind. The way they'd moved in perfect synchronization, like extensions of Grimm's will rather than independent wolves.
"Fine." I pulled away from him. "I'm not going to Grimm. Happy?"
"Not until you throw away that card."
"It's just a card, Trey."
"It's an invitation to betray everything we're building together." His voice cracked slightly. "Please, Em. Get rid of it."
I reached into my pocket, feeling the smooth silver surface. Part of me wanted to tear it up right here, prove my loyalty to Trey and what we had.
But another part—the part that had felt Grimm's power and recognized it as something kindred—wanted to keep it. Just in case.
"I'll think about it." I moved past him toward the exit. "Right now, I need to go. I'm supposed to meet my father in twenty minutes."
"Em..."
"I'll text you later."
I left before he could argue further, practically running across campus to the parking lot where Trey's car was parked. He caught up with me halfway there, keys already in hand.
"I'm driving you," he said, not making it a question.
"Trey..."
"I'm driving you." His tone left no room for argument. "You're shaken up from Grimm, you're running late, and you're about to spend time with a father who might be a threat. I'm not letting you do that alone."
"He won't hurt me. He doesn't even know what I am."
"Yet." Trey unlocked the car. "Get in. I'll drop you off and wait nearby. Just in case."
I wanted to argue, but the truth was I felt steadier with him there. Even if everything else was falling apart, at least I had this.
The drive to town took fifteen minutes. Trey's hands were tight on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched in that way that meant he was thinking too hard about something.
"What?" I finally asked.
"Nothing."
"You're a terrible liar."
He glanced at me, then back at the road. "That thing Grimm said about your children being gods. Did it... did it appeal to you?"
The question caught me off guard. "What?"
"The idea of having powerful children. Of raising them to be something more than pawns in someone else's game." He swallowed hard. "Is that something you want?"
"I don't know what I want." I touched my stomach unconsciously. "I'm barely eighteen. I shouldn't be thinking about children at all, let alone children who might unite or destroy the supernatural world."
"But you are thinking about it."
"Only because everyone keeps forcing me to." I looked out the window at the passing trees. "The dreams, the prophecy, Grimm's offer, it's all about these hypothetical children I might be carrying. No one's asking what I want."
"I'm asking."
I turned to look at him. "What?"
"I'm asking what you want, Em. Not what the prophecy says. Not what the packs demand. What do you want for your life?"
The question was so simple, so genuine, that I felt tears prick my eyes. "I want to finish high school. Play volleyball. Go to college. Figure out who I am before I have to be someone's mother or someone's weapon."
"Then that's what we'll do." He reached over, taking my hand. "Somehow, we'll figure out how to give you that."
"You can't promise that."
"Watch me."
We pulled up outside the diner where Marcus had suggested we meet. It was a small place, the kind of local establishment that had probably looked the same for forty years.
"He's already inside." Trey nodded toward the window where I could see my father sitting in a booth, checking his watch nervously.
"Okay." I took a breath, steeling myself. "Wish me luck."
"Em." Trey caught my hand before I could get out. "Be careful. I know he's your father, but until we know more about what he's doing here..."
"I know." I squeezed his hand. "I'll be careful."
I walked into the diner, and Marcus's face lit up the moment he saw me. He stood, awkward and eager, like he wasn't sure if he should hug me or shake my hand.
I made the choice for him, stepping into a quick hug. He smelled different today—less like hunter weapons, more like he'd made an effort to scrub off the telltale scents.
"Hi," I said, sliding into the booth across from him.
"Hi." His smile was so genuine it made my chest hurt. "I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure if you would."
"I almost didn't." Honesty seemed like the best policy. "This is all still really strange."
"I know." He flagged down the waitress, ordering coffee for both of us without asking. "But I'm hoping we can make it less strange. Get to know each other. Make up for lost time."
The next hour passed easier than I expected. Marcus asked about school, my friends, my interests. I told him about volleyball, carefully edited versions of my relationships with Sage and Trey. He talked about his travels, the places he'd been, always carefully avoiding details about what he'd been doing there.
We were both lying by omission. Dancing around the truth that sat between us like a third person at the table.
"This boy." Marcus's tone shifted slightly. "Trey. You mentioned him a few times now."
Heat crept up my neck. "He's my boyfriend. Sort of."
"Sort of?"
"It's complicated." I took a sip of coffee to buy time. "His family doesn't approve of me. There's a lot of... politics involved."
"What kind of politics makes a family disapprove of someone like you?" His expression darkened. "You're smart, talented, beautiful. Any family would be lucky to have you dating their son."
"It's not about me being good enough." I struggled for an explanation that wouldn't reveal too much. "It's about expectations. His family has plans for his future that don't include me."
"Sounds like his family needs to reconsider their plans." Marcus leaned forward. "Does he treat you well? This Trey?"
"Yes." The answer came without hesitation. "He's protective. Maybe too protective sometimes. But he's good to me."
"Good." Marcus sat back, studying me. "Because if he ever isn't, you tell me. Father's prerogative to intimidate boyfriends who don't treat their daughters right."
I laughed despite myself. "I'll keep that in mind."
We talked about lighter things after that. My grandmother, memories of my mother that Marcus shared carefully, like each one cost him something. By the time we paid the check and left the diner, I felt more connected to him than I had that first meeting.
Maybe this could work. Maybe we could build a relationship despite all the secrets between us.
"I'll walk you back to campus." Marcus offered his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman.
"It's pretty far."
"I could use the exercise." His smile was warm. "Besides, it's getting dark. I'd feel better knowing you got back safe."
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sunset painting everything in shades of orange and gold. Other people passed us on the sidewalk—couples, families, normal people living normal lives.
"Ember." Marcus's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "I want you to know that whatever happens, whatever you're dealing with at that school, you can come to me. I'll protect you from anything."
The promise made my throat tight. "Thank you."
"I mean it. Anything at all. Anyone who threatens you..."
A growl cut through the evening air.
Marcus shoved me behind him in one smooth motion, his hand going to his jacket. Three figures emerged from an alley ahead, moving with that predatory grace I'd learned to recognize.
Werewolves. Three of them. Males, probably early twenties.
And all three wore silver bracelets on their right wrists.
Grimm's rogues.
"You don't want to do this." Marcus pulled something from his jacket. A blade, silver and wickedly sharp. "Walk away now."
The wolves laughed. "Old man thinks he can protect her. That's cute."
They moved fast. Faster than any human could track.
But Marcus moved faster.
He caught the first wolf mid-lunge, driving the silver blade up under his ribs with lethal precision. The wolf's scream cut off as Marcus twisted, pulling the blade free and spinning to face the second attacker.
The second wolf got his claws extended before Marcus's blade found his throat. Blood sprayed, hot and dark, and the wolf collapsed.
Two dead in less than five seconds.
Marcus stood there, blade dripping blood, two corpses at his feet. Then he turned to face me, and saw my expression.
Horror. Shock. Recognition of what he was, what he'd done.
"Honey." His voice cracked slightly. "I can explain..."