62. Deacon

15 Years Later

Ashley waddles into my office, my espresso steaming in her hand. Her pregnant belly protrudes like a basketball under her shirt, and I smile. After I took over the pack, she stepped in to help me get all of the paperwork in order. She worked as my assistant before and after school for the next two years before officially filling the position when she graduated.

I liked having her close to me to ensure she was protected. Alpha females carry a high value in our society, and I wouldn't let the things I'd seen happen to the females in Miami happen to her.

When she asked me to go to a mating retreat five years ago, my initial response was an adamant no. Believing in The Fates has been a hard no for me ever since… I shake my head, bringing me back to the present so I don't fall back into the destructive hole that is memory lane.

Vincent continues his assessment of the new shipment from our Miami allies, and I nod at Ashley in thanks for the caffeine.

Deacon: I appreciate it, but get off your feet. You shouldn't be doing so much.

I send to her in a mind-link.

Ashley: I'm pregnant, not disabled. And I have two more months to go. You sound like Kellen. He's devolved into constant paranoia. I can't lift a finger at home, which is crazy because he wasn't like this when I was pregnant with Kara. Let me work here, or I"ll go crazy.

She finishes making me laugh, which startles Vincent, who isn't privy to our conversation. Clearing my throat, I turn my attention back to him.

"Will the shipment be ready for transport on Saturday for drop-off by Monday?" I ask, pretending I paid full attention to his rambling. Miami has been moving weapons from the coast up to New York on the East Coast and west through our territory to Seattle and LA.

After I arranged to have Frank move down to be our liaison with the Amato pack, we established a profitable trade arrangement. Weapons, drugs, girls—it didn't matter. We provided shipment across state lines through our cargo division, which took me all of eight months to acquire.

I made my first million dollars before turning twenty-five, and I'd secured alliances with at least one pack in each state to ensure we had passage wherever we needed.

"Tuesday at the earliest," he responds, giving me pause.

"Why can't we make the deadline we promised?" I asked, my tone less than friendly. I prided myself on being able to deliver.

He looks nervous before continuing, and I pull on our bond to see if he is telling me the truth. Anxiety floods his emotions, and I wait for his explanation.

"We could get there, but we'd have to go through Vegas…"

"No." I cut him off. "I'll call Dom and sweeten the deal. Tuesday." I say, not leaving any room for discussion.

I hadn't spoken to him since that day.

The day he walked out and took her with him.

He'd taken over the Vegas Pack three months after returning home. I'd heard rumors over the years about his pack, but I'd never allowed myself to seek any information about him or his business dealings. People assumed we hated each other, so most didn't discuss him with me.

"Anything else?" I ask, irritation slipping into my tone at the mere thought of him.

"Have you decided on the Fallon deal?" he asks tentatively.

The Fallon deal…. What a cluster fuck.

"Did they send over the final contracts?" I ask, knowing what a huge undertaking it will be. Mostly for us. But also knowing that taking this would elevate our pack to one of the top seated in the country.

"Early this morning, I think we have an opportunity here, Alpha," he responds, moving the red folder to the top of the pile on my desk.

"I'll look them over. Send a copy to Hendrix in legal to verify our risk level," I order before dismissing him.

I want nothing to do with Fallon. It"s a money grab at leading human trafficking coast to coast, with a focus on "specialty species." So, it is not just humans but vampires, witches, fae, other shifter breeds, and even our kind.

The black market contract was posted four days ago, and I intentionally ignored it. My Second Vincent and his Cousin Tony brought it to me yesterday, and the coalition of Alphas attempting to implement it reached out last night.

Everyone wants us for this.

And that's suspicious.

I'll delay it another day. They think we need this for clout, but we're doing just fine without it, and I, for one, don't want to be the number one target of every other supernatural creature in the country.

To protect my pack, we will politely decline.

Over the years, I've gotten into some dark shit that younger me wouldn't be proud of, but risking everyone in my pack is going too far. There's a reason no one else is jumping on this.

I spent the rest of the day working with Vinny on a protocol for training our new recruits—intake, processing, housing, training, assignments, everything. We finished just after eight, and I called down to see if Bernadette was still working so I could have one of her grilled cheese sandwiches.

To this day, it"s still my favorite, and it is the only thing I allow myself to drift down memory lane with.

Everything else is tainted.

Walking back to my room, I review my schedule for tomorrow. I"m meeting with Frank about transferring four betas from Miami to Reno for a special transport later this month. I"m also having a phone call with Massimo because we're increasing our imports from the Spanish coast, and the Celenti pack is going to facilitate our international expansion.

Pain. Overwhelming has me hunching over, nearly kneeling on the floor. I focus on the source, trying to identify where it's coming from, pulling each string until I reach it.

Ashley.

Oh no, the baby!

Deacon: Doc, we need you NOW! At Kellen's.

I'm moving before I can think twice, my feet pushing me out of the pack house, my wolf assuming control and shifting when I clear the door. Turning into the woods and running at full speed until I get to her home on the edge of the territory, I shift back, stopping only long enough to throw on a pair of shorts on the porch before charging into her house without knocking.

"ASHLEY!" I shout, storming the stairs two at a time. "ASHLEY!"

Deacon: You better answer me right fucking now, or I will walk into your bedroom and kill the man sleeping next to you for hurting you.

I send through the mind link as I clear the top step.

Ashley: Don't…

Her voice is small in my mind, sad even.

At the end of the hallway, the door opens, and Kellen stands there, his face grim. My three-year-old niece is cuddled up in his arms, half asleep.

"The doctor is on his way," I say, eyes scanning him.

Why isn't he freaking out?

"You can call him off. She's fine—physically, anyway," Kellen says, his voice calm as his eyes drop.

"What does that mean?" I say, needing him to talk faster, and instead of waiting, I walk around him to find my sister sitting in her four-poster king-size bed, sobbing with her whole body.

Deacon: Ash? What's going on, Piccolo Lupo?

I send softly through a mind-link. Pulling her pain into me through our bond, taking it from her, filling the holes inside me with it as I walk slowly to the end of the bed, my heart rate finally slowing down.

"She didn't make it. She wouldn't let them fix her, and they couldn't… save her," she says, not making sense, tears flowing unabashedly down her cheeks.

"Who? Who didn't make it? Who couldn't they save?" I ask, thinking through our pack members and wondering if I'd missed something in my brief today.

Had we lost someone?

She inhales, gathering herself before her water-rimmed eyes meet mine. Pain floats in them like a storm at sea before she says the one name I thought couldn't hurt anymore—the only name that ever could.

"Grace… She didn't… They lost her on the table… too much blood, the cancer had progressed too far,"

"What are you saying?" I ask, not comprehending the words tumbling from her.

"Grace is dead."

The wall I'd spent years fortifying, brick by brick, layer by layer, shatters under the pressure of a single word. My lungs stop taking in air. My heart stops beating. My world collapses, breaking beneath my feet as my legs give way, and I fall to my knees, my hands hitting the floor just before my forehead.

No.

No.

NO.

NOOOOOOOOO.

She can't be.

I would have felt it.

I would know if she wasn't in this world anymore.

How could she be gone, and I had no idea?

My eyes squeeze shut as I struggle to pull air into my lungs, each breath feeling like acid burning my insides as the reality of a world without her settles deep into my soul. Every hardened and broken piece aches with an old wound that never truly healed. The scars that simply covered the agony like a weak scab being pulled loose, allowing the crimson blood to flow freely.

She was supposed to have a whole life.

The Fates were supposed to give her the life she dreamed of.

She can't be…

She said they had a plan…

What the FUCK IS THIS THEN?

HUH? FATES? HOW FUCKING COULD YOU!

I scream inside my mind, knowing the imaginary beings aren't listening. They aren't real.

She died for a lie.

She believed with everything that she was… and it was a lie.

I could've protected her.

She would've been safe if she had chosen me, but they spun lies in their makeshift webs, trapping her like prey in their twisted plans.

Without saying another word to my sister or her chosen mate, I give up control, shift to my wolf, and run from the house.

The sad feeling of deja vu rolls through me as I remember the last words she said to me after I ran myself to exhaustion the day I found out the truth.

"No. This isn't it for us. Deacon, you're my best friend. I need you, too."

My best friend… My only love…dead.