Chapter 79

Grace

Charles came back closer to dawn and crawled into bed with me, but I was still irritated. He was gone when I woke up, leaving me a note that he was off plotting evil plans and he'd be back the next day. He also left me the number to Eason's hospital room. I called him while eating the breakfast Charles left, but he was still asleep. George answered and said that it might be a week before he would be coming home.

And that only made me more irritated. Work felt like I was wading through an ocean of needles, even with Charles calling in for our meetings and to check on me.

At least my living room had been practically restored to its normal state. Kelly had gone home, and I was a bit worried that she wouldn't come back ever, given the circumstances.

When I got home, the smell of takeout filled the house. My irritation only deepened. I recognized the smell. It was from Jackson's favorite place. Had he ordered enough to feed just himself? I had no idea, but I didn't care.

I walked into the kitchen and saw the bar covered in take-out containers. It seemed like he had, and while I was grateful to just be able to serve myself and eat, I couldn't help but be disappointed.

I was spoiled by Charles' cooking. Margaret sat at the table, eating what looked like Charles' cooking as I sat with a plate of takeout.

"Laziness is the number one killer," she said as she took a bite.

"Is that Wild Hog?"

"Yes."

I pouted. "That's the last of it, isn't it?"

"Early bird."

I sighed and ate.

The next day was a bit better since I got Eason on the phone, but when I got home, I was surprised to find Kelly there. She smiled up at me.

"Jackson called and asked me to look after Cecil," she said, and she paused. "Is... Eason okay?"

I nodded. "He should be."

She nodded and said nothing else. Then, I found Jackson in the kitchen, standing at the microwave.

"Think we could have dinner together tonight?" He asked.

I wanted to sigh again, this time in resignation. It was a thoughtful gesture on the surface. I wanted to believe that Jackson was trying to make amends, but that was my heart.

My instincts were far more cautious.

I agreed as he pulled his plate out of the microwave, leaving me to my own devices. I searched the fridge and could have cried when I found the last bit of Wild Hog and all the side. I didn't even glance at the takeout that was left over as I filled my plate. Once it was hot, I headed into the dining room. My senses were on full alert as soon as I saw the candles on the table. The soft, flickering glow cast a warm ambiance over the room.

I turned on the lights, ruining the intimate atmosphere. Jackson looked taken aback as I walked and took the seat across from him.

"Thank you for picking up dinner for the house yesterday," I said.

He smiled. "You're welcome."

We began to eat. The conversation started off slowly, a bit stilted as if we were both trying to find common ground. I couldn't help but compare this to the easy conversations I had with Charles, where words seemed to flow effortlessly between us. Maybe he was going to apologize for real and that why he seemed so stiff.

"How's research coming along? Seraphina said she might make it to the next meeting." I smiled and chuckled. "If the winds allow it."

"A bit unprofessional, isn't it?" He asked. "Just flitting in and out."

"She's always forthcoming with her schedule. She hadn't planned to be here long, but she's offering more of her time."

Jackson dragged his fork through the sauce on his plate. "Well, when I'm caught up, I'm sure she won't be needed as much."

He smiled. "My area of expertise and all."

I nodded. "Are you stuck? I know we pulled research from a lot of places."

"Have you thought about what I said?"

I frowned, trying to think back to the meetings, trying to remember what he might have mentioned.

"Uhm, which part?"

"You getting out of politics."

I blinked, and any bit of hope shattered. Nope. No apology. Not a single drop of remorse or even shame. I tilted my head.

"Why would I give that another thought?"

He flushed. "Well, you were in that dress the other night. I mean, you don't go out in something like that without planning to pick someone up."

Yeah. The man I already had who made delicious food, did laundry, loved my kids, and supported me. Still, maybe, just maybe, he was trying to be friendly. Supportive?

"Though it would have been nice if you dressed up a bit for dinner here."

I blinked at him. Did he think this was a date?

I almost laughed.

"Jackson," I began, my voice soft but firm. "Never in my life have I dressed up to have dinner at home with a friend or a colleague."

He shook his head. He looked disappointed but didn't back off. Instead, he leaned in closer, his gaze locked onto mine.

"Grace, you've always been like this. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Jackson, I really--"

"We've known each other for so long. There's a connection between us, something deeper, and if you just gave it a chance, it would be more."

I set my jaw and put down my fork, though I was still hungry. My patience was wearing thin, and his persistence was beginning to grate on my nerves. I could feel my muscles tensing, ready to leap across the table or something.

"Jackson--"

An alert blared from my phone, startling both of us. I quickly checked the message, and my irritation turned to concern. It was a States-wide alert.

"Emergency Alert: Please turn on the nearest television to the Werewolf States Emergency Channel." My heart raced as I read the message aloud to Jackson. We exchanged a worried look. This wasn't a common occurrence, and it was clear that something serious was happening. My irritation with him momentarily.

I leaped from the table and hurried towards the living room. I fumbled for the remote and turned to the news. What we saw on the screen left me feeling deeply disturbed.

The news coverage was dominated by scenes of violence and chaos. The news anchor was disheveled as a building burned behind her. She looked scared and pale, like someone was pointing a gun at her.

"I-I'm reporting live from the scene of the latest Blood Moon attack on Viper City."

My heart lurched. Viper wasn't that far from here, but the name of the organization chilled me. Blood Moon was an anti-lycan terrorist group known for their vicious attacks on any city or town with known lycan ties and no defenses. The images were haunting — burning buildings, injured people being rushed to ambulances, and terrified families fleeing for safety. I caught a glimpse of a Lycan Enforcer truck riding to the scene.

Then, the news report jerked as someone off-scene shot her. Blood bloomed in her cream blouse.

"Help me..." she gasped.

I covered my mouth as the woman collapsed, but the camera remained. Streaks of light cut through the air. The camera cut off, and another reporter came online.

"Viper City police are scrambling to get the situation under control, but we've gotten word that Lycan Enforcer units have arrived on the scene with medical help." The woman was pale. "I... can only hope they have arrived in time to save as many people as they can."

I couldn't help but feel a knot in my stomach as I watched the footage and the follow-up coverage. Blood Moon had been in the news more frequently years ago. It had been years since they'd attacked, but it seemed like their hatred was as palpable as ever.

As the news anchor continued to report on the unfolding crisis, I couldn't shake a sense of unease about Jackson. I remembered a time when he had mentioned being drawn to such extremist views during his younger years.

I turned to look at him, noting how enthralled he seemed.

"Jackson," I said cautiously.

"Yeah?" He asked absently, still staring at the screen as an Enforcer was hit in the chest with a bullet that blew him back several feet.

"You... Why are you looking like that?"

He turned, shaking himself and frowning, though there was something in his eyes that only made me more nervous.

"Like what?"

I swallowed. "Isn't... Blood Moon, that group you talked about in college?"

"Oh, yeah, but," he wrinkled his nose. "Everyone knows they're crazy. I was a stupid kid."

While he had assured me that he had distanced himself from those beliefs, the memories still lingered. My heart wanted to believe him.

My instincts said to watch him closely.