43. Marcus

I'm furious as I turn my back to answer the phone. Not at her, but at the fact that she was standing there thinking that if I saw this side of her, I would what? Judge her and think less of her?

Grace is the strongest person I know.

She has been walking around this town telling everyone her dad is sick and then paying his bills, buying their groceries, and covering for the parents who should be letting her be the kid.

Part of me is thankful that I have two parents who have always been front and center in my life, so I didn't have to be the strong one. Grace has never had that, and deep inside me, it pisses me off.

I pick up the receiver with more force than I intend to and hand it to her.

"Hello?" she says, her voice small and full of tears.

"Tails? What"s wrong?" I hear Deacon say from his end.

"Oh, nothing, D. I'm just so happy to hear your voice," she lies, her voice clearing and filling with the happiness I always hear when she talks about him. Her eyes flash to me in a warning that has me holding up my hands in surrender.

I won't tell him.

"God, it's so fucking nice to hear yours. I've missed you," he says, causing me to flinch at his profanity, and for a moment, I feel like I should step outside while she talks with him.

"Well, tell us everything. What do they have you doing?" she says, pulling me into the conversation before I can run from it.

"Us? Oh, hey, Cap! You taking good care of my girl?" he says, his tone light.

"Course I am. However, she doesn't make it easy," I say, earning a slap from her.

"I would expect nothing less. I've been working ten-hour shifts weekly and meeting with dignitaries during my off time. It's a whole other world out here. Man, Tails, you would love the beaches. I ran right along the ocean this morning, and I could just picture you sitting under an umbrella, reading a book with your toes in the sand. Now, if we could figure out removing the alligators or crocodiles, this may be a place we could call home,"

Deacon spent ten minutes bouncing between Grace and me with information and questions. I told him about the traps and got some insight I will bring to Frank when I return to the packhouse.

By the end of the call, Grace was back in good spirits, and we set up a time for another call two weeks later before I excused myself to the front porch while they said their goodbyes.

Sitting down on the front steps, I take in the March weather. It had started to warm up in the afternoons, and most of the snow had melted, save for some of the deeper woods where the sun hadn't been able to warm the ground. Flowers were teasing a bloom, and rainfall was expected in the future.

In a short amount of time, Reno has started to feel like home. I've made friends with several pack members who live near me, opting to spend more of my time down in the main living area with them than I had in my first weeks here. Grace has been a breath of fresh air, baking me treats I haven't had since childhood and always finding a way to help me find new books to read.

I've gotten to talk to my parents and my Alpha with updates on how things are going, and I've stayed up to date on Deacon through the meetings here and his correspondence with Grace.

Despite what he tells her, Deacon hasn't been having an easy time in Florida. {Ralph} Amato runs the Miami pack like the Mafia. They make money off illegal deals around the city and dabble in antiquated practices like forced matings and breeding programs for new wolves. Nothing is off the table for them. Human trafficking, arms trafficking, drugs, murder, kidnapping, you name it, for the right price, they can deliver.

So far, Deacon has only been an errand boy on most of these accounts, but knowing the type of business they conduct, they will want his hands dirty before long, if only to have blackmail on him to use later.

I wish I was there with him.

It wouldn"t be a good placement for me; illegal activity isn't something I would want to be involved with, but at least he would know someone was looking out for him and making sure he didn't give them too much ammunition that they could hold over him, or more likely Luca when he takes over in the future.

The front door closing behind me pulls me from my thoughts just as Grace's coffee and cinnamon scent wafts my way. She's standing there, not approaching me, and the fact that I know she is wrestling with what to say makes me angry again.

Why does she think she can't talk to me?

"Look, Marcus…" she begins, her voice small. When I turn to look at her over my shoulder, I see her playing with her hands nervously, and it hurts me to know she's uncomfortable around me.

"Let"s go for a run," I offer, changing the subject and not allowing her to finish her thought. I stand and pull at the back of my shirt to remove it. My feet start heading for the treeline before I even wait for a response. She needs a change of scenery and time to let the shame she has no reason to feel work itself out of her system.

Once deep enough, I remove the rest of my clothes and stash them behind a tree before shifting. The rush of senses has always been my favorite part of my wolf. The ability to hear, see, smell, and taste to a level humans couldn't imagine is thrilling. My wolf sniffs around the area while I listen to Grace preparing to shift.

A sharp nip at my hind leg tells me she's ready, just as her reddish wolf darts between two trees. She's lightning fast, and my wolf enjoys the punishing pace she sets. Ducking under a fallen trunk and dodging a boulder, we fall into a rhythm as we run. When we reach the small stream behind her property, she stops, takes a moment to drink, and lays down to catch her breath.

Both of our wolves are panting, and the strain on my muscles feels exhilarating. Grace and I have run our wolves together a handful of times over the weeks I've been here. She's shown me areas I haven't seen on my patrols and kept me from crossing into parts of the woods that certain pack members have claimed for their own.

Once we've caught our breath, I growl at her, instigating a challenge before I turn and leap over the stream, heading away from her as quickly as I can. I know she will be able to keep up not only because of her smaller stature but also because of her knowledge of this area.

Cutting to my right, I jump a ground bush before splitting two tree trunks and circling a large rock outcropping. After several more turns and changes, I stop beneath a large oak tree, sinking to listen for her. Her paws sound not too far away, and I hear her stop to sniff around before taking off again. As her footfalls get louder, I tuck myself farther beneath the coverage of the low branches.

She's found my trail, and a moment later, I see her fur pop across the area in front of my hiding place. She continues past me and scents the air before jogging away.

As quietly as I can, I crawl out of the hiding place just to have her land directly on my back, knocking me to my side. Before she can gain the advantage and clamp her teeth on my throat, my paws push her over, tumbling us both out of the area we were in and through a bush on the ground. When our rolling stops, I have her pinned beneath me. I hover over her throat, waiting for her submission.

Marcus: Do you yield?

I ask before realizing she"s stopped fighting me, and her attention is locked on something off to my right. Releasing her, I spin, expecting a threat. A low growl rumbles out as my eyes scan every approaching path.

It's then that I see what she"s looking at, and my guard drops as I take in the giant treehouse with a rope ladder and bridge. It appears to be made well, and none of the rope or wood planks have broken down.

It is freaking incredible.

I shift, standing to my full height and turning to talk to Grace.

"This place is awesome! Did you know this was here?" I ask as I move toward the rope ladder, hoping to climb.

"Don't!" she shouts, and the uncharacteristic tone of her voice has me freezing in place. Before I can even ask, the wind shifts, and I catch a scent I know.

Deacon.

"We shouldn't be here," she says quietly, closer behind me.

"This is Deacon's place? Where he stays instead of the packhouse?" I ask, already knowing the answer because I have inquired a few times about where his room was, and no one would answer me.

"It's our place. He built it so we could have a place to be together—away from his sister, my dad, and, well, the rest of the pack, too, I guess. Luca helped him," she trails off.

"They did a great job. I've seen Luca's designs, he's really talented. I'm sorry for taking us over here. We can head back now if you want," I respond, turning away from the beautifully made structure. My goal for this run was to get Grace into a better mood, and here I am, making it worse.

She stares at the treehouse, lost in memories to the point I don't think she's heard me. A smile pulls at one side of her mouth before she speaks again.

"A year ago, we came up here after I got off work, and one of the bridge planks had rotted. Seeing D dangling from the bridge and trying to swing to the other side made me laugh until my side hurt. He ended up falling before he ever got there, swearing the whole way down," she says before falling into a spot-on impression of him. "Tails, don't you even think about crossing! Get down here! Use the ladder." She laughs and finishes the story.

"I took it as a challenge. He was so mad. I don't think he took a single breath until I reached the other side." Her smile is full by the time she stops. She finally looks over at me.

"We should go," she says, turning and shifting back into her wolf.

She leads us back to our clothes, and we both take a minute to get ready before she speaks again.

"I'm sorry I overreacted. It's been hard to go there since he left. I tried a few times while y'all were at the retreat, but everything smells like him. Everything reminds me he isn't here, so I just stopped going." She shrugs at the end of the explanation, and I don't understand the guilt I hear in her voice.

"He wouldn't want you to be unhappy. Even if that means staying away for a little while until he gets back. I'm sure he would understand," I say, meaning every word.

Deacon talked about Grace all the time when we were at the trials. He never mentioned a treehouse, and now that I see her reaction, I understand why.

It's their special place.

And I overstepped by trying to explore it.

"I know he would, but I hate feeling weak. He's always the strong one. I'm the one whose life is a mess," she says, defeated. I wait to see if she will continue. When she doesn't, I speak again.

"Deacon never mentioned anything about your family while we were there. Is the situation with your dad new?" I ask tentatively, not wanting her to go on the defensive.

"Yes and no," she sighs, exhaustion entering her tone. "He used to try. He'd look for work and hold a job for a while. He got laid off at the end of summer, and something just snapped. He hasn't been the same. He sleeps constantly, barely runs his wolf, and just lets the bills pile up. I thought my mom leaving would have been the thing to push him over the edge, but he held on even after that." She gets the faraway look in her eyes again before continuing.

"I know he is hurting, but he's still in there, you know? I still see my dad, and I just want him back. So, I pay what I can to keep us from losing the house or the electricity, and I wait. I wait for him to remember who he is: a Beta wolf who used to run a pack as the Second and a father to a daughter who's still here. He's supposed to be taking care of me and himself. Not that I need it now. Deacon and I have been planning to leave for a long time," she says before catching herself.

Her eyes fly to mine, and her jaw slams shut.

"He told me," I say, trying to alleviate her growing concern over spilling their secret. "And I know it isn't common knowledge. Luca keeps talking about the changes that will happen once Deacon comes back. I haven't said anything, and I won't. I promise you," I say, sincerity filling my tone.

I would never do anything to hurt either one of them.

"Thank you," she says, her voice low.

"It's what friends do, and as far as your dad," I say, nodding back toward the house. "He's just lost his way. Maybe he needs something to remind him of the man and the wolf he used to be. It sounds like he just needs a chance to matter again," I offer, hoping it will make her feel better.

When I leave to head back for my shift with the Bravo team, my brain is spinning on how I can lighten her stress. I only have two more weeks until we are supposed to go to California for her birthday trip from Deacon. I know she will struggle to leave if it means missing more shifts at work, and her dad is still like this.

Operation ‘Help Grace and her Dad' is in full effect, and I think I know where to start.