2. Ethan

Chapter 2

Ethan

-Black Sheep- Dorothy

I’m watching Grace navigate through the overwhelming weight of her grandmother’s mortality. It shatters my heart into a million fractured pieces. We didn’t have a lot time with our own grandparents. They departed from this world before we even stepped fully into our teenage years. And now, here she is, my precious mate in her mid-twenties, confronted with the impending loss of her last living adult relative.

Even my wolf, usually so vocal and opinionated, remains eerily silent in the face of Grace’s pain. She needs us to be calm and strong. He murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft, as if recognizing the gravity of the situation.

Reaching out, I gently rest my hand on her thigh, offering what little comfort I can muster in the face of such profound sorrow. She forces a smile in my direction. I can see the shadows lingering behind her eyes, masking the true depth of her anguish. My heart clenches at the sight of her pain, wishing desperately that I could shoulder some of the burden for her.

“If there’s anything any of us can do, please tell us,” I urge, my voice thick with emotion. Grace nods slowly, her movements weighted with a heaviness that threatens to suffocate us all. I glance at Barrett through the rearview mirror, and his solemn nod mirrors my sense of helplessness.

We’re all at a loss, unsure of how to navigate the turbulent waters of human grief. For us, death is a natural part of life, something to be accepted and honored with celebration. But for humans, it’s a wound that cuts deep, leaving behind a gaping chasm of loss and longing. As we journey through this storm of emotions with Grace. I can only hope that our presence offers her even a sliver of solace in the darkness.

As we park the car, I can’t help but notice Grace’s bottom lip quivering as she stares at the door ahead. My heart aches at the sight of her pain, and I wish I could take away whatever anguish she’s feeling. Nicolai emerges and makes his way to the driver’s side. He opens the door, and Grace’s gaze flickers down to Deacon before she passes him back to me. Her expression is a mix of resignation and sadness, before stepping out of the car.

I gently strap little man back into his chest carrier, feeling his small weight against me. His presence is a comforting anchor amidst the swirling emotions. He looks up at me with trusting eyes before laying his head down on my chest and drifting off to sleep.

Barrett, Conrad, and I trail behind Nicolai and Grace, each step heavy with unspoken concern. Suddenly, a voice breaks through the somber atmosphere.

“Hey Ethan, wait up,” Shamus calls from behind me, his tone filled with urgency and determination as he assists his brother out of the car. I had completely forgotten he was there, lost in the moment's intensity.

“Yeah, man. Let’s go,” I reply, my voice strained with emotion. “I can’t stand being this far from her right now.” Every fiber of my being feels tense, my wolf bristling just beneath the surface, restless and anxious as we wait for Shamus and Lorcan to catch up. The need to be close to Grace, to protect her, to reassure her, consumes me, driving me forward with an almost primal instinct.

Shamus and Lorcan finally catch up, and I rush into the house, heart pounding with a mixture of relief and dread. Grace is there, her figure hunched over the bed where her grandmother lies, holding her close. Tears glisten in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

The sound of Nicolai’s voice filters in from the other room, filled with frustration and anger as he argues with the hospice company over the phone. Griffin strides in, taking charge as he wrestles the phone from Nicolai, his voice rising in fury.

“What’s wrong?” I ask Barrett, my voice trembling with worry as I take in the scene unfolding before me.

Barrett’s lower lip quivers as he looks up at me, his eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. “Elinor is in pain, and they didn’t leave the medicine for her,” he explains, his words heavy with despair. “Grace is trying to use her Luna power, but it’s not enough.”

My heart aches at the thought of Elinor suffering, and I glance back at Lorcan, my old friend, searching for a glimmer of hope. As Conrad envelops Barrett in his arms, I turn to Lorcan, desperation clear in my tone. “Are you able to soothe someone in pain?” I implore, my voice barely above a whisper, pleading for a solution.

Meeting Lorcan’s gaze, I see the faint flicker of his wolf behind his milky-white eyes, a spark of determination igniting within him. “Aye, I can,” he responds, his voice steady and resolute. “Bring me to the lass.”

With a sense of urgency, I guide Lorcan to the bedside, where Grace lays, her eyes alight with hope as she watches him approach. “Grace, Lor can help Elinor,” I announce, my voice filled with a newfound sense of hope.

Grace’s reaction is immediate, as if a bolt of lightning has struck her. She sits up straighter, her movements fueled by a newfound energy. “You can?” she asks, her voice tinged with both relief and disbelief, reaching out to take Lorcan’s hands, drawing him closer to the bed.

“Aye, I can, lass. I can take away her pain. She’ll rest easy in my care,” Lorcan says, his voice surprisingly gentle, far softer than one would expect from a man of his size. He settles with his hip against Elinor’s leg and reaches out for her hand. Grace lifts Elinor’s hand and delicately places it in his. Lorcan enfolds it with his own, his large hand engulfing hers completely. As his touch connects with Elinor, her moans cease, and she draws in a deep, peaceful breath. Happy tears cascade down Grace’s cheeks as she watches her grandmother finally find relief.

“Thank you...” Grace manages to whisper, overwhelmed with gratitude. She rises to her feet, then moves to hug Lorcan tightly around his neck. Her emotions overflow as she buries her face in his hair, clinging to him with all her strength. Lorcan leans into the embrace, his head resting against hers as they share a moment of solace.

“She doesn’t have long, lass. I’m very sorry,” Lorcan murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with sorrow.

“How long?” Grace’s voice trembles as she returns to sit beside her grandmother, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what’s to come.

“Less than an hour, lass,” Lorcan replies gently, his words carrying the weight of inevitability. Grace nods, her eyes filling with tears once more, and she watches as Elinor closes her eyes. Grace begins to hum, trying to share her gift of soothing with her grandmother in her last moments.

Feeling helpless, I move to sit behind Grace and wrap my arms around her, holding her tight. Our son, Deacon, nestled between us, coos softly in harmony with his mother’s humming, a poignant reminder of the cycle of life.

Griffin and Nicolai reenter the room, their solemn expressions mirroring the weight of the situation. Slowly, everyone gathers around Elinor, taking seats on the bed and placing comforting hands on her. It’s a ritual deeply ingrained in our pack’s traditions–honoring the memory and service of our elders by sitting with them until they pass away.

As my mom and Nicolai’s parents join us, standing close by, the sense of community grows stronger. Eventually, the alphas from neighboring packs arrive, bearing trays of food as offerings and bottles of water for us, a gesture of love and support.

Grace’s eyes flutter open at the sound of the commotion, and I lean in close to her, speaking softly into her ear. “They’ve come to celebrate Elinor’s life and thank her for being the pond’s guardian for the last forty years.”

Ambrose, one of our closest allies, offers his unwavering support. “Anything you need, Luna, you tell us and it will happen,” he assures us, his arrival a comforting presence during our grief.

Turning my attention to our daughters, Ashina, and Nina, I manage a smile despite the heaviness in my heart. “Ashina, Nina, I need you to go with Uncle Ambrose. The alphas have brought some wonderful food for the family to celebrate your great-grandma’s life.” They reach out, taking Ambrose’s hands, and obediently follow him into the kitchen.

“They’re taking it so well...” Grace’s voice wavers as she sniffles, and Barrett is quick to offer her a tissue. Grace accepts it gratefully, blotting her eyes and blowing her nose before resting a hand on her grandmother once more.

“Death being a negative is a learned behavior,” I murmur, trying to offer some solace to Grace. “Wolves, don’t look at death the same way. A piece of Elinor lives on in you and all of the children you give birth to. So, in a sense, she is never truly gone.” Leaning in, I press a gentle kiss to Grace’s shoulder, hoping my words offer her some measure of comfort amidst the sorrow.

My bond mates and I have been taking shifts every ten minutes, each of us sitting behind Grace, holding her close for comfort. Lorcan has been holding Elinor’s hand for nearly an hour now, his touch a source of solace for her. Ashina and Nina have shifted into their wolf forms, lying on either side of Elinor’s legs with their heads resting on her.

Now it’s my turn to sit on the opposite side of the bed from Grace, while Barrett holds her. According to Lorcan’s estimation, Elinor’s time should be almost up. We thought it safer to have Barrett with her than any of us.

Then, in an instant, Lorcan’s head whips to the right, his gaze fixed in the direction of Elinor’s face. I know without words that it’s over. Gently, he rests Elinor’s hand on her chest, then turns to Grace. “I’m sorry, lass,” he murmurs softly, his voice heavy with sorrow. “She’s gone.”

Grace’s face drains of color, then a slow flush rises in her cheeks, her eyes welling up with tears as she stares at Elinor. “Thank you, Lor,” she manages, her voice trembling with grief. Silent tears trace down her cheeks, a silent testament to the pain she’s enduring. It’s a learned behavior, a survival instinct from her past abuse, to cry silently, not wanting to draw attention to herself. I watch as she tends to her grandmother, her movements careful and deliberate. “Thank you, everyone, for being here with us,” she whispers softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Darlin’, whatever you need, please tell us,” I offer, reaching across the bed to gently still her hand.

But it’s when Conrad moves and stands in front of her that Grace finally breaks. She lunges at him, and the floodgates open. There’s a disturbance in the bond, a palpable wave of pain and grief that hits us all like a sucker punch, knocking the air out of me for a moment. Even Lorcan bristles at the sensation. It’s clear that the bond she shares with all wolves runs deep, far deeper than we had realized. Grace is far stronger than any of us had ever imagined.

My mom and Nicolai’s mom usher the visitors out after they have paid their respects. Grace is sitting on the floor with all three children huddled together, her gaze fixed on the bed where her grandmother lies. There’s a heaviness in the air, a palpable sense of grief and loss that weighs down on us all. Nicolai’s dad has called the coroner to come pronounce and take the body, adding another layer of somber reality to the room.

The crunching of tires in the driveway catches Grace’s attention, and all three children shift nervously. I can see that look in her eyes, a mixture of fear and rage, and I know this will not go well.

“Grace, the coroner is here to pronounce Elinor and take her body to the morgue,” I whisper, trying to break through her intense focus on the door.

“What’s going on? The air feels hostile,” Lorcan asks, his own unease evident as he moves from the bed with the help of his brother.

“Something has set Grace into attack mode,” I murmur to myself, feeling my wolf bristle under the surface. Not now, we need to be calm, I urge my wolf, hoping to quell the rising tension.

As the front door opens, Grace shifts and leaps up onto the bed, assuming a protective stance over her grandmother’s body. Her head is lowered, hackles raised, emitting a deep, almost demonic growl that sends shivers down my spine. Saliva drips from her bared canines as she fixates on the doorway.

“Jed, Agnes...” the coroner calls out, his voice barely audible over Grace’s fierce growling.

Moving around the bed, I reach out to intervene, but before I can act, Lorcan grips Grace firmly by her head and turns her face to him. “Settle, he’s a friend. He’ll take care of Elinor until you are ready to lay her to rest,” he says calmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

The fight drains out of Grace, and she obediently lays down at the foot of the bed, her breathing heavy with exertion and emotion. Her wolf looks from Lorcan and to the man coming through the door. I don’t know what’s going on in that head of hers. All I do know is her heightened emotions almost started a chain reaction.