Chapter 28

Charles

She was going to be the death of me. She wasn’t going to be happy until I pulled her into one of the parlors, threw her on the couch, and had her the way she so clearly wanted. All my plotting be damned. Days slipped by in a whirlwind of activity, and I could still taste her desire on my tongue. It made being in the same room with her hard. So, I kept myself immersed in tasks, channeling my restless energy into helping Grace clean up the pack's affairs and organizing the revitalization of Wolfe Medical. I kept out of enclosed rooms with just us as much as possible. I was grateful that she didn’t seem to want to be alone with me either.

As I delved into drafting announcements, coordinating with Lycan lawyers, and preparing the charges against Devin, the burden of responsibility weighed heavily on my shoulders. When I wasn’t working, I colored with Cecil or rumbled at Richard. I could feel the way they were both changing with the change in their diet, even if Grace didn’t seem to notice.

Even she was changing. More of her instincts were surfacing, playing hell on my self-control. If she looked at me like that again, baring her neck and practically oozing desire, I was going to lose it.

In the midst of the whirlwind, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. George's name flashed on the screen, and I answered, welcoming the brief distraction from the relentless tide of my thoughts.

"Charles," George's voice came through, brisk and efficient. "I've compiled the preliminary findings on Devin's financial misdeeds and his financial status. It's extensive, to say the least."

I listened carefully as George detailed the scope of Devin's embezzlement and manipulation in both the Lycan community and the werewolf world. It would be a ridiculously large scandal if word got out too much. He was probably banking on me covering it up for the sake of the relationship between lycans and werewolves, or he thought he was so clever that I would never find out.

“Tell me. I want a complete picture of his transactions, any hidden accounts, anything that could reveal his true intentions.”

“There are some irregularities, but I need more time to gather concrete evidence about it. However, there’s plenty out in the open, as we suspected. Alpha Wolfe might not even know about all of it…"

The more I heard, the clearer the image of the depths of Devin's betrayal became. My grip tightened on the phone, a surge of anger and frustration coursing through me.

“Pass it all to the lawyers. He’s going to get nailed to the fucking wall, and when I’m done with him, we’ll give him to the werewolves for taxidermy.”

George chuckled. “Of course, sir. Anything else?”

I hesitated and sank into my seat.

“Sir?”

"George," I said, my voice edged with steel. "I need you to pick up that project again.”

“I’ll switch over to the protected line.”

"Go ahead, George," I replied, my tone firm. "We can't afford any risks."

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing the ache between my eyebrows away. A few moments passed, and then I heard a click on the line, indicating the transfer to the protected channel. The sense of privacy and security settled over me, and I focused on the conversation at hand.

“With all due respect, sir—”

“I know,” I said. “But I have no choice.”

“It’s Alpha Wolfe, isn’t it?”

My lips twitched. “That obvious?”

“You’ve always had a type…You’re certain about this?”

“My instincts are telling me I don’t have a choice. It’s… It’s been too long.”

The past few days had brought me closer to Grace, our interactions laced with unspoken tension and an undeniable connection. But the specter of my unresolved mate situation hung over me, a constant reminder of the limits that fate had placed upon me. The desire I felt for Grace was a tempest I struggled to navigate, especially as the scent of her continued to haunt my senses.

“I’ll get in contact then and arrange it as soon as possible.”

I blew out. Planning to break my mating bond could be suicide, but I knew that it would keep Grace from wanting to be with me completely if I didn’t.

"Keep me updated, George," I said, my voice resolute.

"Understood, Charles," George responded, his tone respectful. "I'll have a comprehensive report for you as soon as possible."

“Thank you.”

“And Devin? Your plan if he ends up in jail?”

George's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications echoing in my mind. If Devin ended up in jail for his myriad crimes, how would I choose to respond?

“So long as Amy remains innocent, she will be cared for, but Devin will simply have to learn from his actions.”

“Understood.”

With the matters concerning Devin addressed, I shifted my attention to another pressing concern - the fate of Amy and the child she carried. George's expertise was invaluable, and I instructed him to

“Delve as far into Amy's past as you can. I want to be sure of her character…”

"Agreed," George responded. "And Charles, there's one more thing. I've begun an investigation into Devin's connection with Amy, his wife."

I leaned forward, my interest piqued. Amy had seemed completely innocent of misdoings. "Tell me what you've found so far."

"There’s nothing concrete just yet, but it’s possible that Devin and Amy's relationship may be more of a strategic alliance than a romantic partnership," George explained. "She comes from a small family with ties to certain influential lycan factions. There's speculation that their union was a way to consolidate power. They aren’t even mated formally yet in a lycan way, and they aren’t on the calendar."

That was suspicious.

My brows furrowed as I processed the information. It was a disturbing revelation, but it provided a glimpse into a path forward.

"Keep digging, George," I instructed. "We need to know the extent of their involvement and whether Amy was complicit in Devin's actions. Also, check for sure that they are, in fact, fated mates.”

George groaned. “Of course, sir.”

“Eat lunch and rest soon.”

He laughed. “Sure, after I get all of this done.”

As the conversation with George concluded, I left my office and headed toward the kitchen lunch. The scent of the outdoors greeted me as I stepped into the sunshine streaming through the large windows at the back of the house, and I encountered Grace and Cecil returning from their outdoor adventures.

Their laughter and the sound of splashing water echoed in the air. I watched them, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. They were soaked through and in athletic wear. Grace’s was a skin-tight black full-body suit, showing off every curve of her body.

“It must be warm out today,” I said.

Cecil giggled, and Grace shook her head. “There’s a temperature-controlled area back there.”

"You’re really testing my restraint, Grace," I quipped as they approached, a glint of playful mischief in my eyes.

Grace rolled her eyes, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. "Cecil wanted to play in the sprinklers, and I couldn't resist joining her."

Cecil, on the other hand, was all smiles, her wet clothes clinging to her as she giggled. I chuckled softly, ruffling her damp hair affectionately. "I can see that. How about we get you dried off and settled for a snack?"

Cecil nodded eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious. Grace shot me a grateful smile as we made our way to the kitchen.

"I'll get some dry clothes for you, sweetheart," Grace said to Cecil before disappearing upstairs.

Grace led her into the downstairs bathroom to change and brought her back wrapped in a towel. I helped her to the table. I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. The simplicity of this domestic scene felt like a glimpse into a life I had long yearned for.

With Cecil settled at the table, I turned my attention to Grace, who was looking a bit lost amidst the pots and pans in the kitchen. She searched the cabinets, frowning at what was in the cabinets and looking nervous.

"Need a hand?" I asked, leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

Grace looked up, her expression a mix of relief and slight embarrassment. "Actually, that would be great. I'm not much of a cook, and none of the groceries are… instant."

I chuckled softly, moving to stand beside her. "No worries. Cooking is a skill that can be learned."

She handed me a pan with a tentative smile. "I hope you don't mind helping out."

"Of course not," I replied, taking the pan from her. "Let's see what we've got here."

“How’d you learn?”

“Desperation,” I said, pulling out ingredients. “I—”

Her phone rang. She frowned and answered it.

“Hello?”

Her face went pale. “

“What is it?”

She looked at me. “There’s been a break-in at the company’s warehouse.”