17. Ethan

Chapter 17

Ethan

-I don’t wanna stop- Ozzy Osborne-

As I watch Grace rise, her transformation into the woman I always knew she could be is nothing short of breathtaking. Emotions swirl within me as I witness her strength, and I can sense the calmness of her inner wolf, mirroring the tranquility within myself. The bond she forged with Lorcan, choosing him as her sixth, seems to have brought us both a sense of peace and stability.

I watch Grace, as I often do. I’m so fucking proud of her. Her defiance against Nicolai fills me with pride, and I can feel a warm bloom of affection for her in my heart. Her prioritization of Ambrose’s needs over her own desires speaks volumes about her character.

As Grace exits the room, she taps my elbow, silently beckoning me to follow her, and I comply without hesitation. We navigate through several twists and turns until we arrive at her garden. Standing amidst the rose bushes, Grace pauses by the slab at the center, inviting me to join her. She hops up onto the slab and she swings her legs.

“Before you say anything,” Grace interrupts, lifting her hand to forestall any words from me. “We owe Ambrose so much. I can see the pain in his eyes when he sees us together. He longs for his mate, just as I do for all of you.”

Drawing closer to her, I step between her parted legs, feeling the warmth of her presence enveloping me. “I know,” I murmur softly, gazing deeply into her eyes. “It pains me to see him suffer. Do you believe you can find her?” I inquire, my fingers gently threading through her hair as I await her response.

“Let me show you what I saw.” I can feel the determination pulsing through my veins as I absorb every word she speaks. The image of her trapped wolf, confined in a zoo, ignites a fiery resolve within me. I can almost see the bars casting shadows across her fur, the curious gazes of onlookers, and the wild longing in her eyes.

Her gaze meets mine, and I sense the weight of her certainty. Still, I can’t help but tilt my head, studying her closely, searching for any hint of doubt. “Are you sure?” My voice is soft, tinged with concern.

Her response is unwavering, filled with a mixture of anguish and conviction. “Positive,” she affirms, her words laced with a sorrow that pierces my heart. “I saw it all through her eyes. The confinement, the struggle. She’s slipping away, consumed by the beast within.”

I reach out, gently cupping her cheek, desperate to offer comfort in the face of such despair. “How long?” My voice cracks with emotion, betraying the ache in my soul.

“Months, maybe a year,” she murmurs, her eyes closing as if to shield herself from the pain of reality. I can feel the weight of her sadness pressing down on us both, threatening to suffocate our hope.

But amidst the darkness, there’s a flicker of light. “Does she know we’re coming?” I press, my lips brushing against her forehead in a tender gesture of reassurance. “That we’ll do everything in our power to bring her back to us, to her mate?”

Her response is a fragile whisper, a tear tracing a path down her cheek. “Yes,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. “I told her. I begged her to hold on, to fight for her humanity. And I shared memories of Ambrose, of us together.” Each word is a testament to the depth of her love, to the lengths she’s willing to go to save her.

I nod, my mind whirring with thoughts as I listen to my mate, Grace. Her words carry weight, and I find myself mentally mapping out our next moves. The shadows of our remaining foes loom large in my mind, unseen but ever-present, a constant source of concern.

Grace’s touch breaks through my calculations as her fingers glide over my head, grazing the stubble there. I feel a faint tickle, a sensation that brings a small smile to my lips despite the seriousness of our conversation. Her eyes gleam with a hint of mischief, a spark that ignites something within me.

“I have an idea.” Her feral grin sends a shiver down my spine, but I can’t tear my gaze away from her. She studies me intently, her gaze piercing as she seeks to unravel my thoughts. I tilt my head, watching her with equal intensity.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, curiosity lacing my words.

“I think it’s time you grow your hair out. As twins, you can trick our prey into striking.” Her response is unexpected, yet it carries a dangerous allure. The wicked glimmer in her eyes grows stronger as she speaks, and I can sense the strategist in her emerging. The realization sends a chill through me, mingled with a strange sense of admiration and fear.

“They fear you, Wolfie,” she says, her voice low and calculated. “If they believe you’re absent, occupied elsewhere, they’ll come for me. And that’s when you strike.”

Her words hang in the air, laden with implications. I understand the plan she’s proposing, the deception we could enact as identical twins. But beneath it all, I sense the primal instincts at play, the ruthless logic of survival that Grace embodies.

The calculating look in her eyes mirrors my own fears, reminding me of the depths of her cunning. At that moment, she’s not just my mate; she’s a luna, a general plotting her next move on the battlefield of our lives. And as much as it scares me, I can’t deny the thrill that comes with knowing she’s on my side.

“So you believe that if Griffin and I look completely identical, they will come out and attack?” I tilt my head, studying my mate’s expression, searching for any hint of doubt or concern.

“We know you’re feared.” Grace’s voice is soft, but there’s a determination underlying her words as she moves closer, her eyes locking onto mine. She presses her lips to mine in a brief, reassuring kiss. Her touch sends a shiver down my spine, grounding me in the intensity of the moment. “Why not hide as the brother that is the politician?”

Her words hang in the air, laden with strategy and pragmatism. I can feel the gears turning in my mind, running through scenarios and possibilities. The weight of the decision settles on my shoulders, each option weighed against the potential risks and rewards.

“It seems like a solid idea.” I nod slowly, the image forming in my mind’s eye of Griffin with a fresh haircut, his features blending seamlessly with mine. “Maybe we can get Griffin to get a haircut so that it’s faster for my hair to meet in the middle.”

I watch Grace closely, waiting for her reaction to my suggestion. Her eyes narrow slightly as she considers the practicality of the plan, her mind undoubtedly already working out the logistics.

Grace’s eyes gleam with determination as she fixes her gaze on me, her intensity palpable in the air. The garden suddenly feels charged with anticipation, as if we’re standing on the precipice of something significant. And then, as if on cue, my identical twin, Griffin, strides into the room, his presence commanding attention.

“What are you two plotting?” Griffin’s voice cuts through the tension, his tone rough, hinting at the seriousness of the situation. He wastes no time in assessing the situation. His eyes darting between Grace and me, searching for any hint of deception.

“It’s a ruse,” Grace responds, her words deliberate as she shifts her focus from me to Griffin, her eyes unwavering in their intensity.

“We trick our enemies into thinking that Ethan has left us for whatever he needs to do. He’ll ride out on his bike like usual. Conrad will pick him up somewhere outside of town. We will bring the bike home late at night.” Grace looks between the two of us and I see a crack in Griffin’s armor. As Grace lays out the plan, I watch Griffin closely, noting the subtle crack in his stoic facade. His eyes betray a hint of curiosity mixed with a touch of apprehension, a testament to the gravity of our scheme.

“And the haircut?” Griffin’s question hangs in the air, his gaze moving between the two of us, probing for answers.

“Ethan is growing his hair out,” Grace explains, her voice steady as she outlines the finer details of our plan. “We’ll take you to get your hair cut so that the new image makes it easier for you two to match. It’ll take about two months for it to be nearly impossible to tell you apart.”

I nod in agreement, acknowledging the logic behind Grace’s calculations. The plan is solid, meticulously crafted to deceive even the most discerning eyes.

“It seems to be a solid plan,” I affirm, my resolve firm as I reach for a skullcap, pulling it over my head to maintain the illusion. “When do we put it in motion?”

“It’s already is in motion. We need to hunt the hunters and then save Ambrose’s mate before she’s lost to her wolf.” The urgency grips us all like a vice as Grace’s words hang heavy in the air, each syllable echoing with the weight of impending loss. It’s as though time itself is a predator, relentless and unforgiving, stalking its prey with silent determination. The garden is crackling with tension, as if the very roses are pulsing with the urgency of our mission.

Griffin’s expression is a canvas of emotions, shock, and concern painting his features with bold strokes. His eyes widen, reflecting the tumult of thoughts swirling within him, mirroring the gravity of Grace’s revelation. With each step he takes, the floor seems to creak beneath his weight, a subtle echo of the burden he now carries.

“His mate is going to be lost to her wolf?” His voice trembles with a mixture of disbelief and dread, as if grappling with the enormity of the task ahead. Yet, there’s a steely determination in his gaze as he moves further into the room, his resolve hardening with each passing moment.

Grace’s posture is one of unwavering determination, her spine rigid as she meets Griffin’s gaze head-on. She embodies the essence of leadership, her words cutting through the tension like a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. In her presence, I see the embodiment of strength and purpose, the very essence of the Luna we’ve long awaited.

Her hand reaches out, fingers curling around Griffin’s face with a fierce intensity, as if channeling her unwavering resolve directly into him. In that moment, their connection transcends mere touch, becoming a conduit for something deeper, something primal. I can almost taste the electric charge that courses between them, a silent exchange of visions and emotions that binds them together in purpose.

“You know I found her. We maybe have a year at most before she is lost to her wolf. With as much as Ambrose has done for us.” Grace sits up ramrod straight as she faces Griffin. The Luna I have waited for is standing before us. “I will not fail him.” As Grace shares her visions with Griffin, I feel the weight of their significance settle over us like a shroud. It’s as though the future unfolds before us, revealing glimpses of both hope and despair in equal measure. And in that shared moment of revelation, I sense a shift within Griffin, a subtle transformation as he comes face to face with the reality of what lies ahead.

The air hangs heavy with the weight of our collective resolve, each of us poised on the precipice of a journey fraught with peril and uncertainty. But during it all, there’s a glimmer of hope, a flicker of determination that refuses to be extinguished.

I step closer to her, the warmth of her cheeks under my fingertips sending a shiver down my spine. The softness of her skin contrasts with the strength I know she carries within. As I lean in, our breaths mingle, and I press a tender kiss to the tip of her nose, feeling the flutter of her eyelashes against my cheek.

“This is what I cherish about you,” I whisper, my voice filled with an admiring fondness. “Your heart, always in the right place.”

Leaving her side, I stride purposefully out of the room, the weight of impending danger heavy in the air. My wolf stirs within me, a restless presence pacing beneath my skin, attuned to every rustle and whisper of the world around us.

The threat looms large: an elder and a rogue alpha both on the hunt for my mate. Though I should say “our” mate, for we are bound by more than just affection. Yet, in this moment, selfishness takes hold, my focus narrowing to protect what’s mine.

Ambrose will arrive soon, drawn by Grace’s gentle call through the pack tether. Grace... her name a reflection of her essence. She moves with the elegance of a dancer, her gentleness a soothing balm amid chaos.