Chapter 60

Grace

As the days passed, it was becoming clearer that my role as alpha went beyond just making decisions; it required me to be a compassionate leader who could bridge the divides that had formed. I knew I couldn't do it alone, and I leaned on Eason and Charles for support and guidance.

With each day, I felt like I was actually fixing more things than ever. It was a slow and often painful process, but I was determined to do right by my pack. Mooncrest had suffered so much, but it was time for us to come together and rebuild what had been broken for far too long.

I wished that was all that was all that was on my mind. I caught sight of Charles in the kitchen and set my jaw. The frustration was simmering beneath the surface and muted by everything I still needed to do. He had been pulling away from me, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. It seemed like every time I tried to have a meaningful conversation with him, he would deflect or avoid the topic altogether.

Tonight, I wasn't going to let it slide.

"Charles," I began, my voice tinged with frustration, "we need to talk. "

He met my gaze evenly. "I can see you're upset."

"That's all you have to say."

"No. I also don't think right now is the best time."

"Then, when?" I asked, my voice rough with anger and confusion. "You've been avoiding me, pulling away, and it's driving me crazy."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted. "Grace, I don't think either of us are in a place to have that conversation right now."

My jaw dropped. My stomach turned. I didn't want to admit it, but a part of me knew he was right. We had so much on our plate already, and whatever was troubling Charles needed his full attention. And I was as much of a mess emotionally about Charles, about the slow progress in the lab, about the shifts in Mooncrest as ever.

I set my jaw and turned to leave the kitchen before I said something I regretted, and I heard him let out a shuddering breath as I left.

Maybe it wasn't just me barely holding back and suffering for it.

The next morning, Charles was washing dishes and dressed to leave before Cecil had even finished her breakfast. He didn't come back until I was already asleep, though he had called Kelly and paid her for the evening. The next day, Eason seemed mostly okay and agreed to stay home with Cecil and Richard for the day. I noted that he didn't have his laptop with him, and the dark circles had started to lighten. Over the next few days, Charles's continued absence weighed on me, creating a growing sense of frustration and uncertainty. He had been coming and going more frequently, his explanations vague and elusive. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. That he was going to leave for good.

Was he?

I winced at how weak of a thought that felt. Until the drug was on the market, did I really have to worry? No. Was I going to worry about what happened after that until it happened? Yes.

"You look like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop," Eason said, eating cereal at the table. Cecil was asleep upstairs. It was practically noon.

"I am," I said.

"With Charles?"

I nodded, and he scoffed. "What’s so funny?”

“You. Already pining, and he isn’t gone.” Eason nodded toward the kitchen. “That man made you breakfast, washes the laundry, and is helping you build a medical empire. He’s not going anywhere. Stop freaking out.”

“He won’t talk to me.”

“Have you considered that he can’t talk to you about Lycan King business?”

I huffed.

“At least not until you’re the queen?”

I flushed and was about to say something when Jackson came strolling in. Eason rolled his eyes.

“Cereal, solid choice for… lunch? Hung over?”

“Not even close,” Eason said, taking his bowl and leaving. “Think about what I said, Grace. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He went into the kitchen as Jackson took his spot with a sigh. I smiled at Jackson.

“How are you?” I asked. “I know this isn’t exactly what you thought you’d be getting into. Maybe you could work somewhere else until we get to phase two? It wouldn’t be a violation of contract.”

He waved his hand. “I’m fine. I’m spending some time with my family. Don’t worry about it.”

I nodded, grateful for his understanding, yet the unease within me persisted. The recent turmoil within the pack and the strain in my partnership with Charles had left me on edge.

Jackson, perhaps sensing my disquiet, decided to speak his mind.

"Grace," he began, his tone measured, "I've been thinking about your recent actions, especially that speech you made outside Wolfe Medical."

I frowned. "What about it?"

Jackson sighed, his expression serious. "Grace, you know I've always supported you, but I can't help but feel that you're in over your head with all this politics stuff."

His words hit me like a cold gust of wind. I stared at him, disbelief and hurt creeping into my eyes.

"What are you trying to say, Jackson?"

He leaned forward, his gaze never wavering. "I'm saying that maybe it's time for you to consider a different approach. You're a scientist, Grace, not a politician. Leave the pack leadership to a werewolf who understands our ways, who can handle the complexities of our society."

His words stung, and I felt anger rising within me. "You think I can't handle it? You think I should just step aside?"

“Yeah.” I was struck. “It’s obvious that you don’t know what’s best for the pack. You had a whole mob protesting you, and based on what my parents have been saying… Maybe if you got married again—to a werewolf who knew what he was doing, things would be different. Better for the pack."

The implication infuriated me. "Married? You think me getting married is going to fix things?”

“To the right werewolf. Someone who knows what they’re doing like I said.” Jackson held up his hands defensively. "You’re not really made for running a pack."

As Jackson's words lingered in the air, a wave of frustration and déjà vu washed over me. I had heard most of these sentiments before from Devin. My brain felt hazy.

My defenses flared, and I sneered at Jackson.

"I'm doing what I believe is right for our pack, Jackson. I don't need advice on my decisions from you or your parents."

With that, I abruptly left the room, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Grace, wait—“

I hustled away from him. My feet led me as the anger continued to rise, and the sting of betrayal welled up. I heard him following me, but I lost him quickly. My skin felt tight like I was going to shift, though I hadn’t since I was a teenager. I needed an outlet for the turmoil swirling within me. I found myself walking into a room with no decorations. The floor was covered in mats. There was dust lingering, but I didn’t care. There was a single punching bag hanging from the ceiling.

That would do.

Without a second thought, I approached the bag, my fists clenched, and I began to strike it with controlled force. Each punch was a release I hadn’t realized I needed until now. The rhythmic thuds filled the room, and I felt a strange sense of empowerment.

How dare Jackson say that to me? As if his parents knew anything about how difficult it was to run a pack, to run a company like Wolfe Medical. They hadn’t been able to keep any of their businesses afloat for more than a few months at a time!

And Jackson, who had only just gotten back from assisting on recipe changes, thinking he had any room to critique what I was doing, unwilling to even look at all the progress I had made?

I growled, punching harder. The burn in my shoulders grew. I smelled dust and old air, but I felt better.

It felt like I was pummeling something that had to go, a block in my mind and heart that I didn’t know how else to get around other than to beat the crap out of this punching—

My nose tingled. I drew back and sneezed, stumbling into the bag as it swung and knocked me off my feet. I landed in a heap on the cushioned floor and looked up at the bag. I didn’t recognize the brand, and as I looked around, I realized that I had been wrong.

There was no way that Charles had set this room up. It was still covered in dust.

This had to be my mother’s room.

I smiled, wondering if she had come down here to pummel the bag after that address or after listening to stupid people tell her what she couldn’t do. My phone rang with an alarm, telling me it was time to get to the lab, so I stood, blew the dust away from me, and left.

“Grace—“

I walked past him. I grabbed my coat and walked out to the main road to catch the bus to Wolfe Medical without a word.