Page 4 of Coveted By the Alpha Pack

“Death being a negative is a learned behavior,” I murmur, trying to offer some solace to Grace. “Wolves, don’t look at death the same way. A piece of Elinor lives on in you and all of the children you give birth to. So, in a sense, she is never truly gone.” Leaning in, I press a gentle kiss to Grace’s shoulder, hoping my words offer her some measure of comfort amidst the sorrow.

My bond mates and I have been taking shifts every ten minutes, each of us sitting behind Grace, holding her close for comfort. Lorcan has been holding Elinor’s hand for nearly an hour now, his touch a source of solace for her. Ashina and Nina have shifted into their wolf forms, lying on either side of Elinor’s legs with their heads resting on her.

Now it’s my turn to sit on the opposite side of the bed from Grace, while Barrett holds her. According to Lorcan’s estimation, Elinor’s time should be almost up. We thought it safer to have Barrett with her than any of us.

Then, in an instant, Lorcan’s head whips to the right, his gaze fixed in the direction of Elinor’s face. I know without words that it’s over. Gently, he rests Elinor’s hand on her chest, then turns to Grace. “I’m sorry, lass,” he murmurs softly, his voice heavy with sorrow. “She’s gone.”

Grace’s face drains of color, then a slow flush rises in her cheeks, her eyes welling up with tears as she stares at Elinor. “Thank you, Lor,” she manages, her voice trembling with grief. Silent tears trace down her cheeks, a silent testament to the pain she’s enduring. It’s a learned behavior, a survival instinct from her past abuse, to cry silently, not wanting to draw attention to herself. I watch as she tends to her grandmother, her movements careful and deliberate. “Thank you, everyone, for being here with us,” she whispers softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Darlin’, whatever you need, please tell us,” I offer, reaching across the bed to gently still her hand.

But it’s when Conrad moves and stands in front of her that Grace finally breaks. She lunges at him, and the floodgates open. There’s a disturbance in the bond, a palpable wave of pain and grief that hits us all like a sucker punch, knocking the air out of me for a moment. Even Lorcan bristles at the sensation. It’s clear that the bond she shares with all wolves runs deep, far deeper than we had realized. Grace is far stronger than any of us had ever imagined.

My mom and Nicolai’s mom usher the visitors out after they have paid their respects. Grace is sitting on the floor with all three children huddled together, her gaze fixed on the bed where her grandmother lies. There’s a heaviness in the air, a palpable sense of grief and loss that weighs down on us all. Nicolai’s dad has called the coroner to come pronounce and take the body, adding another layer of somber reality to the room.

The crunching of tires in the driveway catches Grace’s attention, and all three children shift nervously. I can see that look in her eyes, a mixture of fear and rage, and I know this will not go well.

“Grace, the coroner is here to pronounce Elinor and take her body to the morgue,” I whisper, trying to break through her intense focus on the door.

“What’s going on? The air feels hostile,” Lorcan asks, his own unease evident as he moves from the bed with the help of his brother.

“Something has set Grace into attack mode,” I murmur to myself, feeling my wolf bristle under the surface. Not now, we need to be calm, I urge my wolf, hoping to quell the rising tension.

As the front door opens, Grace shifts and leaps up onto the bed, assuming a protective stance over her grandmother’s body. Her head is lowered, hackles raised, emitting a deep, almost demonic growl that sends shivers down my spine. Saliva drips from her bared canines as she fixates on the doorway.

“Jed, Agnes...” the coroner calls out, his voice barely audible over Grace’s fierce growling.

Moving around the bed, I reach out to intervene, but before I can act, Lorcan grips Grace firmly by her head and turns her face to him. “Settle, he’s a friend. He’ll take care of Elinor until you are ready to lay her to rest,” he says calmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

The fight drains out of Grace, and she obediently lays down at the foot of the bed, her breathing heavy with exertion and emotion. Her wolf looks from Lorcan and to the man coming through the door. I don’t know what’s going on in that head of hers. All I do know is her heightened emotions almost started a chain reaction.

Chapter 3

Grace

- Need a favor–Jelly Roll-

She’s gone…

Nicolai leads me out of the room, his comforting presence a lifeline in the chaos swirling inside me. His mother’s gesture of providing clothes for when I shift back brings a flicker of gratitude amidst the turmoil. As I re-entered the room, I find my guys deep in conversation with the coroner.

“I’m sorry for my poor reaction. It’s been a lot to process in the last twenty-four hours,” I murmur, my voice strained with exhaustion and emotion. The coroner nods sympathetically, unaware of the magnitude of events that have unfolded.

My mind races, trying to process the whirlwind of the past day. My new home was engulfed in flames, the sudden manifestation of mate number six, and now losing my last living adult relative weigh heavily on my shoulders. And then there’s the added pressure of appeasing the packs to ensure they don’t view my mates as hoarding power.

“It’s understandable, Luna,” the coroner reassures me. His words soothe my frayed nerves. Despite my inner conflict, part of me is grateful that my mates have kept him informed.

“What are your plans for your grandmother?” he inquires, his question plunging me into a sea of uncertainty.

Panic grips me, but when I glance at Griffin, his reassuring nod steadies my trembling resolve. “I would suggest laying her to rest where her mate is, in the cemetery on the north side of Wolf Creek,” Griffin suggests, his knowledge providing a semblance of stability in the chaos.

“That sounds perfect,” I reply, mustering a smile in an attempt to quell the storm raging within me.

“Is there a need for a viewing or do you want a traditional pack burial for her? Given her station, traditional would be the most respectful,” the coroner offers, his tone gentle yet practical.

“Let’s go traditional,” I decide, my voice wavering as I seek solace in Ethan’s waiting arms. I’ve reached my limit of strength, and in his embrace, I allow myself to surrender to the overwhelming tide of emotions crashing over me.

I watch in silence as my guys, faces somber with respect, assist the coroner in the delicate task of transferring my grandmother from the bed to the gurney. It feels surreal, like a scene from a movie, watching the strongest woman I’ve ever known being lifted onto that cold metal frame, knowing she’ll never return to me. My heart aches, and I feel a flush of emotion creeping up my cheeks, threatening to spill over into tears.

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