Chapter 48

Charles

A blizzard had come to Mooncrest. It couldn’t have come at a better time. I glanced over at the little cookie trophy Cecil, and I had won. Usually, it would make me smile, but it wasn’t doing the usual work of lifting my mood.

I was pissed. Margaret seemed sure that I had nothing to worry about, but I couldn’t shake the feeling.

She’s not that stupid, Margaret said.

While I didn’t know exactly what she was getting at, I knew enough to know that the draw of the familiar, the unencumbered, and everything else that Jackson represented would be appealing to any woman fresh out of a divorce and unsteady, especially with the promise that felt ready to break at any moment between us. I sat at the desk in the corner of the office Grace had given me and tried to focus on the things on my desk, but my thoughts repeatedly drifted to the situation unfolding in the pack house.

My lycan instincts churned restlessly, a gnawing sense of unease growing stronger with every passing minute. Jackson’s presence was driving me to the brink of frustration. It was part territory and part wariness.

My instincts were screaming warning every time I thought about him. I couldn't shake the overwhelming territorial instincts that were stirring within me.

The sound of the wind and sleet pattering against the windows gave me something else to focus on as I raked a hand through my hair, my thoughts consumed by the delicate balance I was attempting to maintain.

So far, I had no logical, concrete reason to be jealous or concerned. Grace had made her feelings for me abundantly clear, and yet, the primal part of me was demanding attention. It wanted to stake a claim, to make it known that Grace was mine, even though she technically wasn’t.

My honor was going to be the death of me.

My focus was abruptly interrupted by the scent of Grace wafting through the room, a mixture of warmth and comfort that simultaneously soothed and agitated me. I leaned back in my chair, my jaw clenched as I grappled with my emotions. The lycan within me longed to be near her, to be the one to provide her with comfort and protection. But I couldn't ignore the reality that Jackson was around, and keeping our relationship under wraps, personal and professional, was still paramount.

As the minutes stretched on, my unease continued to grow. I saw Jackson casually touching her over and over again, getting his scent all over her. The borderline derision he had for me was nothing compared to the way he was clearly trying to stake a claim on Grace.

It was barbaric and irritating, but it revealed a lot.

Mentally, he was practically barely in his twenties. Grace wasn’t the young woman who had married an even younger man on a flight of fancy any longer. Maybe that’s what Margaret meant.

The rational part of me understood that I needed to trust Grace and get a grip on my feelings about her relationship with Jackson. The rest of me wanted to grab her, fully soak her in my scent, then tell Jackson I’d rip his throat out if he touched her again.

I took a deep breath, and I pushed back from the desk and rose to my feet. I needed some fresh air. Maybe I’d go play with Cecil or growl with Richard a bit. Anything to keep me from thinking about this any further. As I stepped out of the office and into the living area, I caught a glimpse of Jackson and Grace engaged in conversation. My gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, my instincts prickling at the sight. My footsteps were light as I drifted into the kitchen.

Eason was there. He had a frying pan in one hand and looked at me with wide eyes.

“You’re going to scare the living daylights out of me one day.”

My lips twitched. “Sorry.”

I went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, listening to Jackson and Grace talking and the sound of Eason cooking.

“What are you making?” I asked.

“It’s not pasta,” he said off-handedly. “Something I picked up from a guy I used to date.”

“Worth eating?”

“Me or the food?”

I snickered. “Depends. Why’d you break up?”

“He wasn’t worth the time it took to get undressed.”

I nodded, taking a drink. “Sad. Werewolf?”

He huffed. “How’d you know?”

“There’s no lycan I know not worth getting undressed for.”

He laughed. “And you know all of them?”

“I’ve met at least… ninety percent of them,” I said. “They’re assholes, sure, but they’ll at least show you a good time.”

He chuckled. “Got much experience with that?”

“I’ve played accidental wingman for George enough and heard enough, the poor sod.”

He snickered. “Is it that bad?”

“He needs at least three drinks before he’s relaxed enough to flirt alone, and I’m a good friend, so I don’t let him drink alone.”

“Nervous?”

“High-strung,” I said. “He’s…”

I glanced at him. “He’s in need of someone who doesn’t give a damn about who he is.”

My phone started to ring in my office. I hummed. “Hold that thought.”

I headed back to my office and grabbed my phone.

"Charles Blackwood speaking," I said, my tone steady.

The man on the other end wasted no time. "Your Majesty. I am Chief Asher of the Stormclaw Clan."

Asher's name sent a jolt of recognition through me. The Stormclaw Pack was one of the most powerful and influential packs in the lycan world, known for their territorial dominance and fierce loyalty to lycan traditions. It was rare for the chief of such a pack to contact me directly.

"Chief Asher, to what do I owe this unexpected call?"

"I have detained Devin and Amy," Asher stated bluntly, his words leaving me momentarily stunned. "They are within my territory, and I will await instructions for their trial. I will relinquish them to an Enforcer Unit of your choosing if you’d like, or I will deliver them for the trial myself."

My mind raced as I processed the implications of his words. Devin and Amy, in Asher's custody? It was a bold move and one that raised many questions. I carefully chose my next words.

"May I ask why you've taken this action, Chief Asher?"

Asher's response was measured. "If you are concerned for their safety, or the safety of their unborn child, you needn’t worry. They are being treated with fairness. Amy is being cared for properly… likely better than she had been before in just Devin’s care.”

"I appreciate your assurance, Chief Asher. But I must ask, why? You aren’t known to take such actions.”

There was a brief pause before Asher spoke again, his voice lowered.

"Devin has been allowed to go from Clan to Clan unchecked because he has chosen Clans of the Elders to travel through. He may be despicable, but he understands the current political climate well. The fact that he thought he would be able to go through my territory unchecked is insulting, to say the least. Much like your father, you've earned the respect of many through your actions. Your compassion, your strength, and your willingness to uphold the balance—these traits are valued by those of us more interested in our continued prosperity than foolish power games.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“If you are not aware, the Elders are plotting against you once again."

The mention of the elders sent a pulse of fury through me.

“I assume they are always plotting against me. If you have information on the specifics, I’ll need to switch over to a secure line.”

“It is a good stance to have.” Asher's voice held a note of approval. “And that would be best.”

With a sense of caution, I switched over to a secure line, ensuring that our conversation would remain private and protected from prying ears. My curiosity was piqued, my instincts on high alert as I settled in to listen to what Chief Asher had to say.

"At your leisure, Chief Asher," I began, my tone measured.

“Before I speak of such things. What do you intend to do about Grace?”

The question hit me like a thunderbolt. Grace.

"Alpha Wolfe?" I repeated a mix of surprise and confusion in my voice. "What is that you mean do about her?”

Asher's response was measured, his voice holding an air of authority. "Some matters are best left for another time. What I wish to know is what your intentions are regarding Grace."

I hesitated, my mind racing. Why was Chief Asher so concerned about Grace? What connection did he have to her that prompted this level of interest? I needed to proceed with caution to choose my words carefully.

"My intentions are to ensure her safety and well-being," I replied, my voice firm. "Grace is under my protection, along with her children. I will do what is necessary to ensure they are cared for."

There was a silence on the other end of the line, a pregnant pause that felt heavy with unspoken thoughts. Then, Asher's voice returned, but this time, it carried a note of surprise, even shock.

"Her children?" he echoed, his voice laced with an intensity I couldn't decipher.

"Yes," I confirmed, my curiosity growing by the second. "Cecil and Richard. They are under my protection as well."

“Two boys?” He asked. “How old are they?”

I hesitated. “Cecil is a girl. She’s four. Richard isn’t twelve months yet.”

The silence that followed was loaded with implications. Asher's initial reaction spoke volumes. He Knew Grace personally. He hadn’t known about the children, but their existence had shaken him.

"Chief Asher," I pressed. "What is your connection to Grace?"

There was a pause as if Asher was deliberating his response. When he spoke again, his voice was heavy. "Those are questions for another time. For now, if you wish to check on the state of your adopted son and his mate, you can call me directly.”

The call ended, leaving me with more questions than answers.