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61. Marcus

When Frank told me about Deacon's request, I was both grateful for a chance to talk to him and terrified of what he would say. As I walk up the steps of the packhouse, my mind is filled with scenario after scenario, each worse than the last.

I hadn't spoken with him since our last phone call, well, except for our argument in the diner parking lot.

That was more fists than words.

I approach the third floor, wondering where he'll be so that I can meet him. I start toward the Alpha's private office, my eyes looking up and catching the cameras on the roof.

I give them a wave as I progress to the last door, opening it to see Giovanni's secretary, Linda, packing up her desk. Standing behind her, leaning against a desk, is Deacon's younger sister, Ashley.

She's dressed in jeans and a deep green crewneck sweatshirt, and she wears her exhaustion on her makeup-free face. I notice the dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes as she examines me. She"s probably deciding if I'm friend or foe and wondering how she should treat me.

Are her tears for Luca or Giovanni? Her brother or her father?

Over the six months I'd been here, I had seen Ashley around from time to time, but she usually hung out with Grace on days I couldn't; still, I felt like from both Deacon's stories at the retreat and Grace's recaps of their time I knew a lot about her.

Fifteen years old, social butterfly, wants to be a photographer.

"Uh, I'm here to see Dea…the Alpha?" I say, unsure if I'm making a statement or asking a question and who I should say this to. Frank only told me Deacon wanted to see me before Grace and I leave later this afternoon.

The older woman stops, turning to show me the frown etched into her weathered skin. She looks like she tasted something sour and then continues throwing her items haphazardly into the box.

Out with the old, I guess.

"Hey Cap, he will be right with you. He's on a call with Alpha Amato. Have a seat. I will let him know you're here," Ashley says, her voice lacking her usual bubbly tone as she points to the couch on the opposite side. Her eyes dance as she sends the mind-link to her brother.

I couldn't imagine having my little sister in my head.

Juliet never shuts up. My mom used to say Juliet was the only person on Earth with her own therapist telling her to shut up.

Maybe it was that she ‘needed to be less verbose' but toe-mAY-toe, toe-mAH-toe.

I lower myself into the plush eggshell loveseat, prepared to wait him out while watching Linda make a show of putting every pen, staple, and post-it note she ever bought into her cardboard box. Ashley sits patiently, with a polite smile that reminds me of Grace when she's working. She is courteous but not inviting.

She looks older today. Crazy how losing someone can do that.

Losing two someones.

At the thought of Grace, my heart skips a little. I know it"s wrong, and I know I shouldn't, especially sitting in her ex-boyfriend's waiting room, but I miss her.

I went by her house the night before. She was frantic and terrified Giovanni would find a way to cheat and defeat Deacon. She'd found out from Ashley that he'd challenged the Alpha for the pack. She and I were both confused by his decisions.

Deacon never wanted the pack.

Deacon never wanted to lead.

Why was he fighting him?

The answer came later: it wasn't about power, revolution, or hatred. It was about control. That decision was something he could control. In a world where everything he believed had fallen apart, he was grasping at straws, and it hurt to know how much he was lost and hurting.

We'd agreed to show him our support despite knowing he wouldn't want us there. We needed him to know we still cared for and loved him. No matter where we ended up, he would always be a part of our story, and we both hoped that in time, The Fates would reveal their master plan that would make all of this pain have meaning.

My Alpha had given me only another twenty-four hours to get my affairs in order before I was supposed to report back to Vegas. Originally, Grace was going to stay in Reno to try to get him to understand, forgive us, or at least ease the pain, but after the conversation at the treehouse yesterday morning, she changed her mind.

"We should leave together. He doesn't need me reopening his wounds over and over. I've hurt him enough. He deserves time to heal."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't overjoyed at the prospect of having her by my side. She is the most important thing in my world now, and I'd do anything to make her happy. I only hoped that one day, she would get her best friend back.

He's important to her, and as much as my wolf wants to mark her with our bite and our scent so the world knows she belongs to us, I know part of her will always be his.

We all have a past that built the foundations of who we are. Deacon is a part of hers, and she wouldn't be the Grace I know without him.

"We can give him space, but we aren't giving up on him."

I remember saying to her before we discussed moving her dad down at the end of the summer, giving him a place in our pack, and putting him on my council.

A fresh start for us all.

"Cap?" a hand lightly touches my shoulder, causing me to jump. "You can head in there now. He's ready," Ashley says, turning back to the desk.

Shaking my head, I realize Linda took her box and left while I swam in my memories of the last two days. Ashley now sits behind the desk, a large monthly calendar on the desk that she begins adding things to.

Releasing a breath along with my nerves, I steel my spine, preparing myself for whatever he was going to throw at me.

When I enter, the brightness of the room surprises me. Large windows adorn the walls, their curtains fully open to let in the morning light. The rains from the day before are a distant memory. Deacon sits behind his father"s old desk. Most of the items have been removed from the top and now sit in a box off to the side.

He holds a fountain pen in his hand, signing official-looking documents.

"Have a seat, Stone," he says, his voice calm and neutral. His mask is firmly in place, and an air of purpose emanates from him as he organizes the pages.

For a moment, I'm not sure if my legs will cooperate, but eventually, I get them to move one in front of the other and plant myself across from him, my foot crossing over onto my knee to seem more relaxed.

Cool as a cucumber over here.

"Apologies for summoning you when you have packing to do, but I wanted to take advantage of your presence in my territory to iron out a treaty. I'm aware you aren't in charge of Vegas yet, but I know that you will be. According to the information I was briefed earlier this morning, your Alpha has been bedridden for the last month. His pancreatic cancer has advanced. Now, I know he had his heart set on his son, but you and I know he won't step up," Deacon says, his tone professional, cordial, detached.

"As you are the likely alternative, I'd like to set some firm boundaries to keep our packs working together for the good of us all."

My mind reels. The Deacon Marlo sitting in front of me feels like the body-snatched version. No snark. No sass. No real emotion whatsoever.

I'm speechless, unsure how to proceed.

"You want to sign a treaty?" I ask, my mind incapable of wrapping itself around this being a standard alliance meeting when, less than thirty-six hours ago, he punched me in the face.

"I thought that part was clear. I know this pack has set up plans in the past to take over the state, but as you and I have a more… complicated history, I'd like to ensure that we coexist. Independently," he says, using his hands to show the separation.

It takes me a full minute to comprehend the conversation.

"Oh, okay. Sure. I don't see why that would be a problem. I've never had any intention of moving into Northern Nevada Pack territory…" I start, and he cuts me off.

"Reno Pack. Our name has changed to the Reno Pack," he corrects.

"I hadn't heard there was a change; I'm sorry. But I never had any plans even before everything happened," I say, trying to reassure him that I am not now, nor have I ever been.

"Well, as we have seen, plans change, so I'd like the legal pieces in place. This way, any breach of contract would keep me from losing anything else," he responds. His face gives away no emotion despite his words cutting me deep.

I never wanted to hurt you. I never would have taken her, despite my growing feelings. I would have longed for her for a lifetime before I chose to hurt you. You're my best friend.

All the words I want to say bounce around in my mind, but none sneak out. Deacon Marlo, who sits in front of me, isn't my best friend—not anymore. I took the trust he placed in me and destroyed it, even though I didn't want to. Even though it hurts me to see him sitting there without any shred of friendship, it still happened. It's still my fault.

Reaching my hand out, I signal for him to pass over the documents, not intending to read them seriously. I would give him everything he is asking for. I would give everything up to fix this break—well, everything except Grace.

And that's the only thing he wants —the only thing he's ever wanted.

"Do you need these completed today, or can I review them and send them back?" I ask, hoping he will say today because it would mean spending more time with him.

"Take your time. Send them back before the end of the month," he answers, pushing back his chair to stand. His hand lifts in a professional manner as if to shake mine, almost dismissively.

I place my palm in his and gently squeeze, not trying to appear aggressive but hoping he reads the gesture as an apology.

"Take good care of her. Anything happens, falls on you," he says, leveling his eyes on mine before releasing it.

As I turn to leave the office I hear him speak one more time, just slowly enough for me to pick up the Italian.

"Va tutto bene, niente va bene."

Grace would later tell me its meaning.

Everything is fine, but nothing is alright.

If that didn't describe this whole mess, I didn't know what did.

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