Page 7 of Coveted By the Alpha Pack

Nicolai’s nod is hesitant, his admission a weighty acknowledgment of his fears and vulnerabilities. I can sense the gravity of his confession, knowing it must have taken a lot for him to voice his concerns.

“There, it’s settled then,” Grace declares, her gaze shifting from Nicolai to the rest of us, a sense of finality in her tone. “Next order of business?” she prompts, her eyes now fixed expectantly on Barrett.

Barrett, with a knowing look on his face, directs his attention to Conrad. “Conrad, is there anything you would like to share with the family?” His expression speaks volumes, revealing that he’s already privy to something significant.

Clearing his throat, Conrad rises from his seat, adjusting his suit jacket with nervous fingers before meeting each of our gazes. “Grace is going to marry Barrett and me in a pack ceremony. I mean, Barrett and I are getting married,” he admits, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks as he steals a glance at Barrett, who returns the look with equal fervor.

Deep down, I’ve always sensed Conrad’s preference for men over women, with Grace being the notable exception. “As long as it’s what the two of you want, then I am happy for you both,” I offer sincerely, though the memory of our father’s reaction to such news still lingers. While I miss our father dearly. I find solace in knowing that my brother can finally embrace his authentic self, even if it defies our father’s expectations.

“Good, then it’s settled. Once we kill off my ex-baby daddy, we’ll plan for a fall wedding,” Grace announces, her gaze drifting wistfully toward Barrett and Conrad, a hint of determination in her voice.

I double blink, surprised by Grace’s nonchalant acceptance of violence. Since when did she become so comfortable with the idea of killing? Furrowing my brow, I study her closely, wondering if some imposter has replaced my mate. It’s not until Ethan nudges my shoulder that I tear my gaze away from Grace.

“She was on the phone with Ambrose about it. Apparently, he convinced her it’s in our nature to kill or be killed. I owe him a beer,” Ethan murmurs under his breath, his words a revelation amidst the distraction of Grace and Barrett engrossed in something on Barrett’s phone.

“Can we please get this back on track?” I interject. The tension in the room is palpable as I refill my rocks glass, the liquid sloshing softly against the ice. My gaze sweeps around the room, lingering on each member of my family, searching for any sign of agreement or dissent.

Ethan steps forward, a determined look in his eyes as he reaches for the decanter to refill his glass. “I’d like to bring something up,” he says, his voice steady despite the weight of the conversation.

“The floor is yours,” I reply, gesturing with a sweeping motion, silently urging him to speak his mind.

He takes a deep breath before addressing the issue at hand. “Okay, so we still have the issue of the psycho ex floating around,” Ethan begins, and my brows furrow in concern, unsure of where he’s going with this. “As much as you don’t like being crowded or escorted everywhere, darlin’, it’s becoming a necessity. Too many lives and several packs’ stability are at stake.” His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I glance over at Nicolai, whose expression mirrors my shock and apprehension.

“I may not be the head alpha of the family,” Ethan continues, his voice unwavering, “but as one of the alphas, I think we need to look at beefing up security and training specific betas for tasks related to Grace and the children’s safety.” He crosses his arms over his chest, a challenge in his stance, as if daring me to argue with him.

“My father trained elite warriors specifically for our safety when I was younger. I’m sure I can ask my father for his guidance,” he offers, his voice steady despite the weight of his proposal. Nicolai’s words hang in the air, heavy with implications and promises of protection. As he stands, his gaze shifts between Ethan and me, a flicker of resolve burning in his eyes. His glance then shifts to Grace, seeking her approval or perhaps reassurance.

Grace, however, seems caught in a moment of hesitation, her expression resembling that of a deer frozen in the headlights. I can feel her gaze passing through me, lost in her own thoughts and concerns.

“I understand where everyone is coming from,” she finally speaks, her voice carrying a mixture of resolve and vulnerability as she steps into the center of the room. Barrett hands her Deacon, and she cradles him close, her movements fluid as she breast feeds him. There’s a quiet strength in her actions, a determination that resonates within the room.

“I don’t like strangers near us,” Grace admits, her voice soft yet firm as she leans down to place a gentle kiss on Deacon’s temple, her love and protectiveness for our family clear in every gesture. “We will do what we must do to protect the family.”

Grace’s determination is palpable, filling the room with a sense of purpose. I can’t help but be impressed by how far she’s come, from the uncertain woman I first met, to this fierce guardian of our family. In her, I see a strength that inspires me, a resolve that I know will see us through whatever challenges lie ahead.

“With everyone’s permission, I’ll get the ball rolling with the training. Then, as a family, we can pick who we are comfortable having close to our inner circle,” Nicolai declares, his phone poised in front of him, ready to make the necessary calls.

I glance down at Deacon, feeling a surge of protectiveness wash over me, then lift my gaze back to the group. “Do it,” I agree, my voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside me. A ping from my phone interrupts the moment, signaling a text message. With a heavy sigh, I read the message aloud. “They’re ready for us to go to the burial.”

My eyes drift down to Deacon again, and I feel the weight of grief threatening to overwhelm Grace. Barrett is the first to react, moving swiftly to scoop Grace up and gently take Deacon from her arms. His kiss on Deacon’s head is a silent reassurance.

He then moves over to Ethan, extending his hand in a silent request. Ethan complies, removing the front carrier from himself and adjusting it for Barrett to wear. It’s a familiar ritual, one that Barrett knows all too well. He understands that in this moment, Grace needs her creator more than anything else. With Deacon safely secured in the carrier, I feel a pang of confusion about why they didn’t entrust me with my son.

Conrad senses my bewilderment and pulls me aside, his expression serious. “She’s going to need us, her first alphas, to get through this,” he explains quietly, his words sinking in as I watch Barrett, Nicolai, and Ethan lead Grace out of the house. This is going to be the longest afternoon in history.

Chapter 5

Grace

-Don’t fear the Reaper- Pierce-

I’ve not visited the cemetery in years, and as we step onto the grounds, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. The air is heavy with the scent of earth and freshly cut grass, mingling with the faint aroma of flowers left as offerings. The rolling hills stretch out before us, adorned with headstones of various shapes and sizes, marking the final resting places of countless souls. It’s a solemn sight, yet somehow serene in its own way.

We make our way through the graveyard; the gravel crunching beneath our feet with each step. The headstones seem to multiply, stretching as far as the eye can see, a testament to the passage of time and the memories etched in stone.

As we venture towards the back, the atmosphere changes subtly. Here, the graves are older, the markers weathered with age, bearing the names of families that have been in the area for centuries. An old stone wall, worn smooth by time, encloses the oldest part of the cemetery, adding a sense of history and reverence to the scene.

In the far back, nestled under the protective embrace of a towering weeping willow tree, stands the grave of my ancestors. It’s a sacred place, steeped in tradition and legacy. My great-great-grandfather planted that tree when our family first arrived in Wolf Creek, and its graceful branches sway gently in the breeze, casting dappled shadows over the hallowed ground.

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