Page 130 of Villainous Fate

He should have demanded she be treated. She could have other children. There was only one Grace.

From what Ashley had accidentally told me over the years, she already had a child a few years ago, an heir for their pack. I never asked for updates about her or her life, but occasionally, they slipped out, and those days were the hardest to get through because they took away pieces of the hardened exterior I’d built up since they left.

That day, in a fit of rage, I’d killed an enforcer who fell asleep on duty. Then I’d flown off to Italy for six weeks, allowing myself to participate in the underground fights where I'd killed dozens more.

Most people assumed I was just violent and dark, like my father before me, but Ashley knew how hard those moments were, and she avoided telling me anything about Grace as a way to keep me from going off the deep end.

Once the plane is parked by the hanger, I descend the stairs and jump into the black Mercedes Ashley had set up for me. The driver had been switched with one of my enforcers, and our schedule had been left up to me.

Grace’s funeral pyre would take place tonight at the packhouse on the edge of town. I had a few hours before the event, but every part of me needed to see her before they gave her body to The Fates.

I hope they are happy with the mess they’ve made.

“Trust The Fates”

My ass.

I decide my own fate now. They don’t get to influence my future.

When we arrive, the packhouse is teeming with people setting up arrangements for the ceremony. I instruct my driver to wait at the car and walk myself to the front door. Not waiting for an invitation, I walk in the cool, crisp air of the March morning, which is in full contrast with the warmth of the house.

I stop the first person I can find.

“Where is she?” my voice was calm but not friendly.

“Who are you looking for?” the young beta enforcer asks, confusion evident as he carries a floral centerpiece toward the backyard.

“Your Luna,” I respond, making him stop in his tracks. His eyes drop to the floor a moment before meeting mine again, sadness in them.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but The Fates have taken her. She passed away last night.”

“Obviously,” I say, gesturing to the people setting up all over. “Where have they moved her body in preparation for the pyre?” I ask, raising an eyebrow to feign annoyance. After a moment, he appears to have a realization.

“Oh, you must be the guy the coroner’s office sent to finish the paperwork. They have her in the guest suite down that hallway; turn right; it's at the end on the left. Need me to take you there?” he asks, his eyes looking for a place to set down the arrangement.

“No need. I’ll find my way,” I say, lifting my hand to dismiss him as I turn and head that way before he can change his mind, ask for identification, or tell someone I’m here.

Exhaling, I intentionally calm my breathing in an attempt to slow my heart rate. My wolf sits anxiously beneath my skin, waiting. Knowing we are in enemy territory, one wrong move will be a fight to get out.

I hadn’t notified Marcus or his leadership of my arrival in his territory. Me showing up unannounced could be seen as a threat or an act of war.

I don’t care.

I need to see her.

One more time.

I need to see with my own eyes that The Fates were wrong. Her life wasn’t better with him. Mine wasn’t better without her. And now Marcus’s wasn’t better either.

They. Were. Wrong.

She would have been better off with me.

As I turn right at the first opening, I glance back to see no one following. A slight grin lifts on my face at the luck just as I nearly trip over something in front of me, causing me to sidestep and grab the wall to avoid falling on my face.

What the fuck?

Leaning against the wall, feet stretched out into the center of the hall, is a small red-headed boy, already dressed in formal clothes. His head hangs down, and his hands sit at the center of his lap, fingers picking at the cuticles in an oddly familiar way.

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