Page 129 of Villainous Fate

How could she be gone, and I had no idea?

My eyes squeeze shut as I struggle to pull air into my lungs, each breath feeling like acid burning my insides as the reality of a world without her settles deep into my soul. Every hardened and broken piece aches with an old wound that never truly healed. The scars that simply covered the agony like a weak scab being pulled loose, allowing the crimson blood to flow freely.

She was supposed to have a whole life.

The Fates were supposed to give her the life she dreamed of.

She can’t be…

She said they had a plan…

What the FUCK IS THIS THEN?

HUH? FATES? HOW FUCKING COULD YOU!

I scream inside my mind, knowing the imaginary beings aren’t listening. They aren’t real.

She died for a lie.

She believed with everything that she was… and it was a lie.

I could’ve protected her.

She would’ve been safe if she had chosen me, but they spun lies in their makeshift webs, trapping her like prey in their twisted plans.

Without saying another word to my sister or her chosen mate, I give up control, shift to my wolf, and run from the house.

The sad feeling of deja vu rolls through me as I remember the last words she said to me after I ran myself to exhaustion the day I found out the truth.

“No. This isn’t it for us. Deacon, you’re my best friend. I need you, too.”

My best friend… My only love…dead.

Chapter 63

Deacon

Lessthaneighthourslater, the wheels of my private jet touch down at McCarren Airport. I ran my legs until my pain focused solely on them before I shifted, made arrangements, and packed for my trip down to see my buddy, Marcus, so he could explain exactly what the fuck was going on.

Howhecould have let this happen.

I’d finished an entire bottle of 1928 Macallan Anniversary Malt while in the air, and it had numbed some of the anger, but nothing took away any of the unending void that had filled with harrowing agony.

I’d put on my favorite suit, black Armani, with a red silk tie I’d bought in Italy while being fitted. I’d grabbed it solely because it matched the hue of her hair. It taunted me while I stood, chalk lines being dashed onto its fabric. I’d never worn it. I couldn’t. Seeing it hanging in my closet alone tormented me every time I got dressed.

I welcomed the pain. It lit the fire to my anger and allowed me to lead a pack I never wanted in a city I didn’t want to be in, with memories I didn’t want to relive.

Today, I wore the tie like a suit of armor, fortifying my strength. It was a visual symbol of the love I’ve carried for her, silently from afar.

No one had ever replaced Grace’s place in my life. Even after several meetings where the pack hinted at my need for a Luna and heirs, I’d never betrayed the words I said to her.

She was it for me.

And now she's dead.

Because of him.

My jaw clenches every time I think of his role in her death. Kellen informed me that Grace had been sick for a while but hadn’t been treated due to a pregnancy. She was hoping to start chemotherapy after the baby was born, but her body gave out before she could, and she died in childbirth.

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