29. Grey

29

GREY

I press my foot to the gas, accelerating around the final curve before the familiar turn-off comes into view. Stone pillars mark the address with an iron plate. The massive gate sits open and welcoming—something that would never happen if my father were here. But he's locked up in his Pine Hill fortress. With Lexi.

The drive out to the lake house used to be one of my favorites. Today, I'm too consumed by my own dark thoughts to appreciate it. In my rearview, I catch sight of a familiar SUV trailing me. Honestly, I'm surprised Elio has kept up. My father's keeping close tabs on me, and his loyal little dog hasn't disappointed.

Ignoring him, I flick my gaze back to the road in front of me and narrowly miss clipping the mailbox as I turn in a bit too fast and drive through the open gate. Thick trees obscure the house on my right, offering shade and privacy. Just ahead, a large, detached garage is bordered by evergreens lined with bright pink rhododendrons. I scowl as I remember how much Lexi loved the landscaping out here. This was the first place we found common ground. The place we agreed to work together.

Did she mean it? Or was she working for Franco even then?

My tires squeal as I come to a stop beside my mother's car. My phone buzzes, and I glance at the incoming call. Dutch. Again. If it's not him, its Mia.

They all want to know what we're going to do.

I have no fucking idea.

I'm out of moves.

Maybe that's why I'm here instead of back in the city, preparing for my wedding.

Leaving my phone in the car, I climb out and head for the front door. My mother meets me on the porch, dirty gardening gloves clutched in one hand. Her linen pants are a bit smudged with what looks like potting soil and her cheeks glow with a sun-kissed flush. She looks relaxed, though I suspect that has more to do with her husband being miles away than having her hands in the dirt.

"You made it." She smiles, pulling me into a hug.

I wrap my arms around her, clinging tighter than I have in years. By the time I release her and step back, her forehead is pinched with worry.

"Come in," she says. "We'll sit out back and have some lemonade."

I shake my head. My mother. Approaching life or death with lemonade. "Got anything stronger?" I ask as I follow her inside.

She leads the way through the living room and into the kitchen, where memories assault me. This place was my safe haven once. A refuge my mother would escape to when my father became too violent or mean. When I was young, she would bring me with her, and we'd spend weeks here swimming in the lake or playing board games. Then, I got old enough to be trained in the family business and my father put his foot down.

She stopped bringing me.

I started accompanying him instead—seeing what he was like with his pack. When she complained that I was becoming too much like him, he blew up. And I saw what he was like with her.

I'm glad she spends so much time here. That she's found somewhere that brings her a shred of peace. But I'm starting to wonder if it's too late for me. Maybe I'm just like my father, after all. A monster willing to destroy anyone who gets in his way. Destined for an empty marriage.

"Here." My mom sets a bottle of brandy on the counter.

My brows lift. "That's not exactly strong."

"Well, it's all I've got."

She grabs an empty glass and heads for the back door. I grab the brandy and follow her outside. There's a small table and chairs on the patio. A pitcher of lemonade and a half-full glass are already on it. My mother sits, gesturing to the empty chair across from her.

I sit and watch as she pours my cup half-full of lemonade. When she holds it out, I take it but don't bother with the brandy as I drain the contents. For a moment, we sit in silence. I listen to the birds and cicadas, hating how cheerful it sounds. Like nature can't be bothered with the fact that my entire world has shattered.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mom asks.

I bite back a refusal. Talking about it won't change anything, but I can't think of anything else to do. Hell, it's why I drove out here in the first place. So, I shove the words out as quickly as possible. Rip off the Band-Aid.

"Lexi's been spying on me for Franco."

My mother falters then sets her lemonade down. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She studies me. "I see. And you're angry."

Temper leaks out, making my words harsher than I intend. "Of course I'm angry. She betrayed me."

"Did she say why?"

I frown. "What?"

"When you asked her about it, did she say why she did it? Was she forced?"

"She's not a wolf who can be compelled." I don't bother to point out that I haven't actually spoken to Lexi about that particular detail. Haven't really spoken to her at all.

"She's a human in a world full of beasts, Grey. She can be threatened—or worse."

I scowl. "I would've protected her. She knows that."

She's silent for a moment, and I can't help feeling defensive at the way she's reacting to this. Like she's on Lexi's side.

"Ramsey admitted he's been doing the same thing," I tell her, needing a reaction that isn't empathy. "He says he's the one who sent those men to the estate last year." Her eyes flash with fear, there and gone quickly. "He almost got you killed."

"Did he say why he did it?" she asks.

"What does it matter?" I snap then take a deep breath. No part of me wants to take this out on her. "He put you in danger. Why didn't you tell me you'd been attacked?"

"Because it wasn't important by the time you came home."

"Your safety's always important to me," I say stubbornly.

"I know, and I love you for it." She softens. "You've always protected everyone else. What about you, darling?"

I glance at my empty lemonade glass, unsure if I can meet her gaze right now. My head swims with so many thoughts—and worries. "I don't know if I can do this," I admit.

"Do what?"

My voice is strained as I say the words I've done my best not to think about, "My wedding's in two days."

She sighs. "I understand. I felt the same way once."

I look up, surprised. "You did?"

"Of course. Just because your father's my mate doesn't mean I ever had any illusions about what kind of man he is."

"I guess I just thought he wasn't always like this."

"He's definitely grown worse over time," she agrees. "But his character's always been the same. His first love will always be himself. And his lack of care for those around him as he pursues what he wants was evident to me even then."

"Why did you marry him then? If you knew who he was?"

"Protection," she says simply. "For you."

My brows lift. "You didn't have me until after you were married."

"No, but I knew my future children were at risk."

I shake my head, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You know my father worked for GV Industries," she says, and I nod. My grandfather died before I was born, and she rarely talks about him, but I know this much. "His position gave him access to some of Franco's more trusted advisors. During a meeting, he overheard a conversation about how Franco was developing a new drug that would make our wolves more powerful than anything we'd seen before. The executives said the researchers needed test subjects and when none volunteered, Franco began ordering citizens to participate."

My attention sharpens, and I sit up straighter. "What kind of research?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know details except that he only wanted women of childbearing age. Specifically, women who intended to become pregnant. And only those who were loyal to the Giovanni leadership."

"In other words, Diavolo pack members were excluded."

She nods. "Soon after, my father received a phone call from Franco himself ordering him to bring his daughter into some clinic to see if I was a viable candidate. By then, I'd already met your father and realized he was my mate. He wasn't the love of my life but…"

"Marrying him would make you a Diavolo," I realize. "And exempt from testing."

"I did everything I could for you long before you were ever in the picture." She smiles and reaches across the table for my hand, squeezing. "And I don't regret a single thing."

"I appreciate you telling me all of this, Mom. But this isn't the same thing. Lexi's not exactly saving me from a terrible fate."

My mother cocks her head. "Isn't she?" I scowl, refusing to answer that, and she adds, "Without her, you might not have decided to stick around and fight for your own future instead of running away to help others with their wars." My brows lift. How does my mom know so much about my time away? "Seems to me like you're saving each other."

"Does she deserve to be saved?" Even as I ask the question, I can feel the hypocrisy.

Didn't I also scheme with Franco once? And no one forced me. I did it willingly. No matter what Lexi agreed to do, that night, she refused to tell Dom our plans, and he broke her arm. Maybe that was her way of trying to tell me where she stands.

She chose me, and it cost her.

My mother chose my father, and it cost her too.

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face as my thoughts scatter and reassemble. When I open my eyes, my mother's studying me with a pointed look. "Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?"

Instead of answering her, I hear myself ask the question that's scarier than any of the ones that came before it. "What if she doesn't want to marry me?"

"Ask her."

"I can't. Dad's locked her up at the estate until the wedding. He won't let me see or talk to her."

She glances toward the side of the house. "Is that why Elio followed you all the way out here?"

"Maybe," I hedge. "Among other reasons."

Her gaze sharpens, and I resist the urge to fidget under her scrutiny. "You feel different," she says quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Your wolf calls to me."

Shit.

I knew the alpha in me was growing stronger, but I didn't realize others could sense it yet. Not like this. That means I'm dangerously close to outing myself even without using the hex blade to form the pack.

Still, I don't bother to deny what she's implying. "Marrying Lexi means staying to deal with everything," I say instead.

She nods, understanding what I don't want to say out loud. That it means facing off with my father—and only one of us walking away. She leans forward, her expression vulnerable and earnest. With watery eyes, she whispers, "I'm proud of you."

My throat tightens. "Thanks, Mom."

We share a moment of silence that's full of years' worth of unspoken alliances. All the times she wanted to protect me. All the moments I wished I could save her. Then she blinks and sits back, her expression clearing.

"Look, I can't tell you what to do about Lexi, but I think some things you have to take on faith," she says. "What does your heart tell you?"

I exhale. "That Lexi's it for me. No matter what."

"Then that's all you need to know."

"Mom, there are a million factors here. Dad?—"

"Trust fate, sweetie. It brought her to you. It won't let you down."

I shake my head. At this point, I'm not sure fate deserves that kind of trust considering everything else it's dealt me. Or her. But I don't have the heart to argue with her. "Thanks, Mom. I appreciate this."

"Of course. Now get going. You have a wedding to prepare for."

I manage an almost-smile as she hugs me goodbye and shoos me out the door again. Elio watches me from inside his SUV. Just to piss him off, I smile at him and wave, all the while imagining him driving straight off a cliff on the way home.

Maybe fate can start there.

My phone's already buzzing when I open my car door and climb inside. With renewed determination, I pick it up and answer it. "Hey, Dutch. What's up?"

"Dude, where the fuck have you been?" Dutch's tone is more urgent and exasperated than I expect—even for ghosting him all day.

"Is that him?" Mia's voice in the background is nearly a shriek. "Put him on speaker."

"What the hell's going on?" I demand.

"We've been trying to call you." There's a shuffling, and when Dutch speaks again, his voice echoes, letting me know I'm on speaker now. "It's Ramsey."

My good mood vanishes. "What about him?"

Mia snarls, "He escaped."