38. Grace

Luca"s news that Deacon had won the final trial has had me floating on cloud nine for the last two days. I knew he could do it. He spent his last few days before leaving, worrying about getting through each piece of the retreat. The internship is more like what he has been doing here for the last year, so he knew that part would be fine.

We both wondered if Giovanni would be twisted enough to target him while in the trials.

Thank The Fates, he didn't.

I've had to keep myself busy by taking extra shifts and studying in the library to avoid getting bogged down in a what-if game.

What if he dies?

What if he is hurt in a way he can't heal?

What if I lose him?

The quiet and alone time has been enough to make me lose it.

Thankfully, school is back in full swing, and I've been able to distract myself with classwork since returning.

I miss him.

The places he fills in my soul are empty in a way that no Elvis song or cologne smell can replace. Part of my heart is missing, and until he returns, I don't think I'll be able to feel whole. Even escaping into my book has become problematic because every love interest bears his face, every passionate kiss is the ghost of his lips on mine, and every happily ever after feels like a sad song playing on repeat until I can hold him again.

Walking to work today makes me wonder when I will get his call. Hearing his voice over the line would make me feel better. I haven't even sent another letter because I worried it wouldn't get to him before he left, and he hasn't given me the new address yet.

Luca mentioned that Stone would join our pack for his internship later this week, so maybe he will come with Deacon's message. I know they formed a friendship over the last few weeks. Deacon even gave him a nickname, his way of attaching himself. I got Tails because of the braids I plaited every day. Marcus got Captain after Captain America because, from the sounds of it, he's got a big heart for doing the right thing.

I'm happy that Deacon found someone to lean on when he couldn't have me. I've always known Deacon has some darkness in him. Whether his father put it there or The Fates did it to allow him to be strong enough to survive the life they handed him. He did an excellent job pushing that part of him away, but I've always known it"s there.

Part of me loves him more because of it. He has the propensity to be just like our Alpha but chooses not to be every day. He decides to love music, to run under the moonlight, and to love me.

My eyes see it as I approach the diner, ready to start working my night shift. Greg's stupid truck sits parked just outside the front door.

Dang it.

Here, I thought punching someone in the face would be enough for them to take a hint, but he comes back repeatedly. Pete has had to throw him out a half-dozen times since Deacon left.

Gathering any patience I can muster, I pull open the door, plastering a smile on my face.

The diner is almost full of early dinner patrons having their meals before the long week ahead. I take a minute to greet several of our regulars, intentionally avoiding Greg and his flunkies, before ducking behind the counter to head to the back and drop off my stuff in my locker.

Throwing on my apron, I glance at the small mirror and quickly tie my hair out of my face for the shift. I haven't had the heart to braid it since he left. As if I'm protesting until he returns, I leave it down, allowing the waves to fly free. For work, it's been mostly pulled off my face to keep from getting any of the copper strands in the food.

Slamming the door shut on the locker more enthusiastically than I intended, I shake my tense muscles. Tonight's shift is the last I have before three days off. Well, that is, if I don't pick up any to keep me from staring at the walls at home or crying in the treehouse.

I'll ask Pete if he can schedule me again tomorrow. Mondays are usually busy after the pack meeting lets out, so it would be a perfect distraction.

I grab a couple of plates and head into the main dining area, avoiding the left side of the restaurant as I greet Sadie, a senior from my school and fellow packmate.

Working with Sadie is always difficult because she enjoys flirting far more than working, so I end up grabbing extra tables to ensure everyone gets served. The only positive is that she has Greg in her section, so at least I can avoid his attention tonight.

Moving around the room, I drop off the plates, fill drinks, and take orders until I fall into my rhythm. Keeping everyone's orders organized, I move out as quickly as possible. After an hour, I find myself cleaning a table in Sadie's section when the door chimes.

"Have a seat anywhere you'd like. I'll be right with you," I holler over my shoulder, not bothering to look at the new guests as I fight with a particularly sticky cushion that I'm guessing is syrup.

Righting myself, I stack the used dishes into a pile and scoop them up before heading to the kitchen in the back. On my way, a hand reaches out, stopping my progress. I freeze, knowing precisely who has placed their hand across my waist before moving to look around the pile in my arms.

"Something I can help you with, Belsom?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral in a room full of humans and wolves alike.

"Actually, Splotches, I think you need a break. Why don't you have a seat here for a few minutes? I believe everyone has what they need for now," he smiles at me, no trace of humor in his request despite its absurdity. He pats his lap in invitation and holds my gaze.

I step back, hoping to break his contact with me before responding. He grips tighter, preventing my retreat, at least without me making a scene, and I can't have our other customers see an argument break out.

"As…tempting as that offer is, I have work to do. Please take your hand off me so I can return these to the kitchen. I have a job to do," I say, my voice holding steady despite my wolf clawing at my control.

"Come on, Sadie has time to spend with us. How come you never do?" he asks, doubling down by adding a second hand to the string of my apron and tugging to move me closer to him as he stands. I lock my legs and lean as far away from him as I can, about to refuse another time, when Greg"s eyes move from my face to look over my shoulder just as another voice pipes up.

Please be Pete.

"I believe the lady asked you to remove your hand," a deep voice says, reverberating down my back.

Oh no.

The last thing I need is a human getting mixed up in this and Greg killing him for getting involved.

"Not sure it's any of your business. Now get out of here," Greg instructs, turning his eyes from the brave man behind me to my face. "Plus, Splotches here likes to play hard to get. The chase is her favorite part," he continues, causing my skin to flush crimson with embarrassment.

"That may be true, but you will remove your hands all the same," the voice says. As the command dances over my skin, my fingers release the plates, and everything begins to happen in slow motion. It takes my brain a moment to catch up with the situation as all the dishes I once held come tumbling to the linoleum floor with an ear-splitting crash. The noise that follows is loud enough to grab every customer"s attention and bring all other conversations to a screeching halt.

It"s only then that I notice that Greg has released his hold on me, and no one at the table has anything in their hands.

An Alpha.

Fear slips in, making me wonder who stands behind me as the restaurant remains frozen in a silent standoff. I don't recognize the voice or catch the Marlo signature Italian lilt from Luca or Giovanni.

My body catches up with the scene, and I drop to the floor to collect the shattered dishes while spouting apologies to the guests in the area.

"I am so sorry. I can be incredibly clumsy. Let me get that for you," I sputter off, grabbing shards of plates and cups from the floor. I avoid looking anyone in the eye until I hear the table of Greg's followers giggling at my mess.

My eyes flash up and lock on Sadie sitting in the booth laughing.

Thank you so much for working.

The fury I feel snaps a bit of my restraint, and my eyes shift, allowing my wolf to snarl at her. For one blissful moment, I imagine hurling one of the shards at her perfectly painted face.

"What's going on out here?" Pete's booming voice shouts across the space, causing me to jump again. I almost feel a hand at the small of my back, but just as I think it"s there, it"s gone again.

"Sadie, get up and get to work. You, gentlemen, need to leave. Now," he orders, pointing his finger at the door while looking at Greg and his friends.

I resume my clean-up, locking my focus on the floor as they all file out to prevent a bigger scene and give my wolf time to calm down so I can regain control of my eyes.

"You too, gotta go," Pete adds, and I hear the man behind me move.

I"m exhausted when I have the floor cleaned up and the tables cleared. The energy it took to contain my wolf and the additional stress from Pete yelling at both Sadie and me to stay out of the drama at work only added to the million thoughts bouncing around in my mind.

Why can't Greg just leave me alone?

That's the first of them, a question I have had for two years. Ever since Deacon and I began dating. I wasn't friends with Greg even before the shift in our relationship, so why does it feel like he feels betrayed somehow?

Three hours later, I clock out, dragging myself toward the exit with thoughts of a hot shower and sleep on my mind. My school didn't start until nine since I elected not to have a first period with my work schedule this year.

Exiting the front door into the chilly January evening, I focus on my classes tomorrow. I've got Calculus, Government, Library aid, and English Composition. I'm pretty sure I have a paper due, but I can throw it together before the end of the day.

A throat clearing to my left makes me jump out of my skin and shout.

"Ahhhhh!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. I thought clearing my throat would be less jarring than just speaking or touching your shoulder," the voice says, causing me to turn to face him.

Standing off to my right, ten feet away with his hands in the air, is a guy about my age. His dirty blonde hair is disheveled and looks almost beachy, while his crystal blue eyes are opened wide, giving him a completely innocent expression. Despite being well over six feet tall and built like a Greek God, something about him is so unbelievably non-threatening.

My breathing calms, and my heart rate slows as I process what my eyes see. He waits patiently, allowing me to assess him without commenting and keeping his hands clearly visible.

"You're the Alpha from the diner," I state, not asking a question.

He nods, letting me come to my conclusions.

"Why did you intervene? Challenging the Second's son in a territory that isn't your own is the farthest thing from a smart decision, especially over a waitress at a diner," I ask, skeptical of his motives.

"That was Belsom's son? Well, shit. I mean, shoot," he corrects himself, "apologies. My mom would kill me if she heard me talking to a lady like that," he finishes, throwing a hand through his golden locks, a blush hitting his cheeks that causes mine to flame.

A lady? Who talks like that?

"Who are you?" I ask, letting my curiosity get the better of me.

"I'm Marcus, Marcus Stone," he says, and all the pieces fall into place.

"Marcus!" I nearly shout, the sound echoing off the dark pavement forcing me to cover my mouth. My eyes scan the area, expecting to see people looking our way, but the area is empty, save for the two of us.

"Luca told me you would be doing your internship here, but I didn't think you arrived until later in the week," I say before stepping closer to him.

"Does that mean Deacon is in Miami? Did he make it out of there safely? How long until he will be able to call? Oh my goodness, how terrified I have been since he sent the last letter the day y'all entered the final trial. How did y'all do it? I can't imagine all of the things they had y'all go through just to.."

He cuts me off.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. One thing at a time, there, Spitfire," he says, chuckling, his hands motioning for me to slow down while a smile forms on his face. I can see exactly why Deacon calls him Captain.

Raising an eyebrow, I wait for him to answer my questions, but he just stares at me with a goofy grin before responding.

"You're exactly as he described you, except for the braids, of course, but his impression was spot on," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes before he continues. "Anyway, he gave me this letter to give to you when I arrived. I didn't read it, but he said his new address would be there if you had a letter to get to him before his next one arrives."

A lump forms in my throat at the mention of him, at the sight of his handwriting on the letter I now hold in my hand, and without any warning, I burst into tears.