by Lily Cahill
Tuco stumbled to a stop, blinking fast. Then he shifted too.
“Please, cousin,” Grace whispered.
Tuco’s chest was heaving, and he was marred with scratches and bite marks. His eyes softened for a moment, a look of regret, of pain in his face. But then he set his jaw.
“You’re no cousin of mine,” he spit. “You made your choice when you betrayed me. You’ll die like the rest.”
“Like Aunt Maria and Uncle Eduardo? Did you kill them too? Or did you send Carver to do it?”
Tuco’s mouth twisted into something ugly. “They were martyrs to a cause.”
Disgust curdled deep within Grace. It didn’t matter if it had been her cousin or Carver that had killed her aunt and uncle, he had robbed Grace and Mateo of family that loved them. He had robbed her of a future she’d looked forward to. How could anyone do such a thing and live with himself?
Grace struggled to breathe past the tightness in her throat. “I trusted you, Tuco, and you made me believe a bear had killed them.”
“Does it matter how it happened? Carver was right. Their death bound us together, gave us a reason to fight men like Carlos Alvarez who try to rule us, keep us down.”
Grace shook her head. “Don’t try to make it noble. You are nothing but a murderer.” She felt dizzy, and when she looked down at the pool of blood under her thigh, she nearly got sick. Grace let her head lean back against the wall. For the first time, she looked at Tuco and saw a stranger. The boy he’d been was gone, had probably been gone for a very long time.
“You talk about family, Tuco. But you don’t know what family really is. Family wants you to be happy, no matter what.” Grace leveled her gaze on her the man who was her cousin and braced herself for what was to come. “You’re just a monster.”
Tuco shifted in an instant, his jaw open and slavering. He ducked his head and let a low growl build deep in his chest. Then he attacked.
Grace clamped her eyes shut and saw Bret, the life they could have led. The music they could have made.
But then there was a piercing yelp, and Grace’s eyes popped back open.
A giant, silvery bear had lunged between Tuco and Grace. The massive body of Derek’s bear slammed into Grace’s legs as Tuco snapped at tore. There was blood, so much blood.
Grace shrieked, tried to push Tuco off Derek, but it was impossible. Blood lust had made him insane.
“Bret!” Grace screamed. She sobbed and screamed again.
There was a guttural roar, then Bret was charging past the few bears and wolves still fighting. He sank his claws deep into Tuco’s flank and tossed him into the air. The two shifters were a blur of color and movement, of growls and yelps. But Grace looked down at the beast dying in front of her.
Derek shifted back, blood leaking from the side of his mouth. Grace couldn’t see where he hurt, couldn’t see anything but blood. His hand reached out, and Grace grabbed it.
“I saved you,” he whispered, then closed his eyes and went limp.
Grace held on tight to his hand even as her brother rushed up to help her, even as Bret staggered back to her, bloodied but alive. Behind him, Tuco lay dead. No one was left fighting, the lodge had grown eerily still. The air reeked of blood and fear.
So much death, for what? For power? For perceived wrongs that had festered for generations? Grace held tight to Derek’s limp hand and sobbed. Bret’s arms were warm around her, lending her whatever strength he had left. She buried her face into his chest and let all the pain and fear come out, until she was empty inside. But the emptiness left room for other things, for gratitude and hope.
Through streaming eyes, Grace looked up at Bret.
“He saved me,” she whispered.
Chpater Twenty
Bret
THEY BURIED THEIR DEAD, EVEN Tuco and the other dead wolves. Three had survived, and they would face the conclave of the Southern Clans for their part in Tuco’s rebellion.
Bret stood at the small, smooth stone marking the head of Derek’s grave. He still couldn’t comprehend why he had died. He understood that Derek had been paying a debt, he understood Derek’s sacrifice. But why? Why the fight, why had Tuco grown so twisted with hate for other people?
Bret didn’t know if he’d ever truly understand it, but he had to learn from it. Silently, Grace joined him at Derek’s grave and slipped her small hand in his. She had washed off the blood, thrown away her ruined clothes, but Bret knew the bandages were hiding under her simple, borrowed dress. She’d needed stitches to repair the four deep puncture marks from Tuco’s teeth. Just the thought of him hurting her made Bret quiver with anger all over again. But he had to push it aside, breathe through it.
With Grace at his side, Bret vowed to never let his own insecurities overcome him again, to never become twisted with hate like Tuco had become. Because the terrifying thing was, Bret had been close. His heart had grown black and hard as he struggled with his secret and faced his brothers—happy and in love—daily.
Bret squeezed Grace’s hand and faced her, his love, his mate. They had both been through so much misery, and only when they found each other had they discovered a way out. Together, they would find their peace.
“They’re waiting for you,” Grace said.
The battle against Tuco and his gang of wolves had torn apart the lodge house less than twenty-four hours ago, but Drew still had to be installed as clan chieftain. The ceremony would take place in a wooded glade by the river, with only a single representative from each territory and his family present.
Bret pushed Grace’s dark hair away from her forehead and pressed a gentle kiss there. “Come on then.”
Grace frowned and looked somewhere over Bret’s shoulder. “I’m not sure … maybe Mateo and I should wait here.”
Bret tugged Grace close and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re family, Grace. You belong at my side, you and Mateo both.”
Grace looked down at her borrowed clothes and picked at a string hanging from the hem of her simple black cotton dress.
“I need you with me, Grace. Please?”
Grace sighed and peered up at Bret, then after a long moment she pressed her lips together and nodded.
He offered his arm, and they walked through the quiet forest toward the glade. A few yards away, Mateo trailed behind them. There were only ten people standing together in the glade, sunlight slanting through the tall pines and turning the world golden. They all turned to see Bret, Grace, and Mateo.
Drew walked over first, his arm around Nina. “It’s good to see you, brother.”
Bret cracked a half-smile. “I didn’t have anything better to do.”
Nina quirked an eyebrow, but laughed. She held out a hand to Grace and introduced herself. Grace was quiet, but she smiled and introduced Mateo as well.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Nina said.
Over the small crowd, Chase raised his eyebrows in their direction. “Are we going to do this, or what?”
Drew sighed, but he put a large hand on Bret’s shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes. “We’ve all missed you. When you’re ready, I want to hear what happened.”
Bret held Drew’s gaze. His heart swelled in his chest. Despite everything he’d done to his family, the hurt he’d caused, they were happy to see him, willing to give him another chance. Bret nearly buckled under the weight of gratitude.
“I’d like to tell you everything. Now let’s go make you chieftain.”
With Nina at his side, Drew walked to the front of the small group and faced the three representatives of the North American conclaves. Each said their part, bestowing a blessing upon Drew for peace and prosperity. Finally, it was Nina’s turn.
“My mate,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Our bond is our faith, our love is our daily devotion. Honor the men and women of the Western Clans in the same way you honor our marriage—faithfully, daily.”
Uncle Mac stepped forward then, the regent who’d ruled in place of the Hart brothers for
nearly a decade since Errol Hart had been deposed. His hair had gone nearly completely gray since the last Bret had seen him, and there were deep lines etched around his mouth. But his eyes were still bright and sharp, and his smile wide and genuine. He handed over the scepter of the Western Clans, a piece of carved heartwood set with a chunk of raw gold, and stood back.
“Rule in peace, rule in faith, rule in love. Drew Hart, the elected chieftain of the Western Clans.”
Goose bumps rippled down Bret’s skin and he held tight to Grace. This felt like the end of one dark night of his life and the beginning of a new dawn. The sun shined down on them, warmed their shoulders, and Bret smiled.
They feasted into the night, singing the old songs and dancing around the massive bonfire in the middle of the clearing. Bret raised his voice along with Chase, Jax, and Drew, and it felt so right. So absolutely right.
But it also felt … like something from his past. He and his brothers had put all of their energy into Wild Harts, but they were changed men now. Bret realized quite suddenly that Wild Harts was over.
Maybe not forever, but now for. His band was done.
Now what? His future stretched before him, a hundred possibilities, each more enticing than the last. All he knew was, Grace would be there at his side. They would experience the future together.
Bret grabbed Grace around her waist and spun her in a circle, nearly delirious with hope for their lives. The dipped and danced around the fire, eyes on each other, smiling wide. They were spinning so madly, Bret didn’t even notice as they bumped into a small group of people.
“Oh, sorry,” he said absently, then he noticed the looks on their face.
Worry. Doubt. It was Drew and a representative from the conclaves of the Western, Southern, and Eastern clans.
“What is it?” Fear seized at his heart. He’d thought this was over. But was it not? Was there new danger?
The Alvarez representative looked between Bret and Grace. “Peace is a fragile thing,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “We may have put down this rebellion, but that doesn’t mean the war is over. Not when …,” his dark gaze trailed back to Grace.
Grace clutched at Bret’s hand and looked down at her feet. “You mean when there are Espinosas still out there.”
The woman from the Eastern Clans and Mac, the newly elected representative of the Western Clans, shared a look.
“My dear, we don’t mean to say,” the woman started.
Drew spoke over everyone. “As I was discussing with Mr. Alvarez, there could be an effort made to give the Espinosas access to their ancestral lands.”
At that, the Alvarez man tightened his features. “The neutral zone is there for the protection of both of our territories, Drew.”
Bret stared down at Grace. Maybe the future wasn’t quite as easy as he hoped it would be, but she remained a constant. She was the reason he had a future to believe in. She was the love of his life, his soulmate.
“Or,” Bret said, raising his voice. He turned to Grace and raised their joined hands to his lips. There was question in her eyes, both more than that, there was love.
Bret smiled at Grace, then turned back to the others. “What better way to promise peace between our territories than joining an Espinosa and a Hart in marriage.”
Grace gasped, her fingers going tight in his hand.
Across the small group, Bret noticed Drew smile and nod in approval. He didn’t need his brother’s approval to seal his life with Grace, but it felt good to get it.
“Grace Lopez,” Bret said, facing his love. “Before you, I could only see the day in front of me. And that day was twisted with darkness, with hate that was tearing me apart from the inside out. But from the moment I met you, my world grew. My heart healed, and for the first time in months, I could see a future worth fighting for. I love you, Grace. Heart and soul, I love you. Marry me. Please, make your future with me.”
Grace leapt into his arms, pressing kisses everywhere she could. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pushed her forehead to his. “Yes,” she said between tears. “Yes, Bret. A million times over, yes.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Grace
GRACE STOOD IN THE SHADOWS at the top of the landing, nerves bubbling through her.
For the past week, she and Mateo had been staying in the old Hart house in the middle of their expansive ranch. It was a lovely old home, one that made her ache with memories of her farmhouse in Texas. A place she could never return to.
Despite the good news of their engagement, the man representing the Alvarez clan had come to Grace the day before he left and repeated the vow from Carlos Alvarez. If she or her brother ever returned to the Southern Territories, they’d be brought before the conclave for their part in Tuco’s rebellion. Maybe that would change in a few years as the memory of Tuco’s actions faded, but it felt pretty permanent right now.
Down below, the sounds of men and women drifted up the stairs. They laughed and joked as they sat in the enormous kitchen and dining room. Grace had memorized all their names: Drew and Nina, Jax and Tiff, Chase and Emily, but knowing names and knowing people were two entirely different things.
It didn’t help matters that Bret had disappeared on some secret errand two days ago with a devious wink in his eyes and a smile on his lips.
Grace felt a presence behind her and glanced back to see Mateo coming out of his temporary room.
“Are you hiding?” he chided.
Grace grimaced at him.
“So that’s a yes. Come on. I like them.”
Grace laughed. “That’s just because Tiff keeps making you cookies. How that woman manages a newborn and your cookie demands, I have no idea.”
Mateo slung his arm around his sister. “Gracie, come downstairs. They like you, I promise.”
“You don’t know that. Our family attacked them.”
Mateo grew still. “Family is what you make it. My family is you, and hopefully those people downstairs. Don’t forget, they know a little something about coming through adversity too.”
Grace peered at her little brother. “When’d you get so grown up and smart?”
“I had a good example.”
Grace dropped her chin and sniffed. Mateo squeezed her shoulder and tugged her toward the lip of the stairs.
“I smell fresh cookies,” he said.
Reluctantly, Grace followed him down the stairs and into the large, airy kitchen. Grace tacked a smile onto her face to hide her nerves and hovered near the edge of the far counter. She twisted her hands in front of her, just to give them something to do.
Nina sat on a stool at the big island, one hand on her growing belly. Next to her, Emily was typing on her laptop while simultaneously chatting, and Tiff was plating up cookies—chocolate chip, by the look of them. Jax, cradling his newborn son, Devon, was walking back and forth between the kitchen and then into the dining room and around the massive farm table.
Grace watched him on another pass through the kitchen. Jax swiped two chocolate chip cookies and walked them over to where she and Mateo stood.
“Who says you can’t have cookies for breakfast?” he said with a grin, handing them over.
The cookie was still warm, and Grace could feel chocolate smear against her fingertips. Mateo, she noticed with a twinge of embarrassment, had already shoved the entire cookie into his mouth.
Jax nudged Mateo on the shoulder. “You keep this up, kid, Tiff is going to start making whole casseroles for you.” He nuzzled his newborn’s forehead and smiled. “Though anything that gives me an excuse to get in some Devon cuddle time is cool with me.”
Grace just watched this, this family. She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes and had to look down. For the first time in a very, very long while, Grace felt that she and Mateo had a home. It maybe wasn’t the physical house, but it was these people who loved each other more than anything. She felt it like a string tugging behind her heart and stretching to Mateo and Bret to
each and every one of them. With them in the world, she truly had a home.
Still looking down, Grace heard a click of a laptop shutting then a chair scraping back. “I’m headed into town to shop,” Emily said. “Grace, you want to join me? We could find you a dress for the wedding.”
“Oh!” She looked up and met Emily’s hopeful face. “Yeah, yeah that would be nice. I guess I should stop borrowing your clothes and buy some things of my own.”
Emily waved her hand. “Sisters share things all the time. Don’t worry about it.”
Grace felt color rush into her cheeks at the word “sister.” She glanced at Mateo, her eyebrows raised. “Do you mind?”
Mateo only looked too happy for Grace to finally be opening up. He practically shoved her out the door. The two women ambled out to the car, and Emily drove them into town.
Slowly, Grace felt her nerves wash away, her walls crumble. One of her favorite old songs by Carole King came on the radio, and Grace turned it up and sang her heart out.
Bret returned home the next day, the wink in his eye still gleaming and his smile devious as ever. He scooped Grace up in a hug and didn’t let go of her until her brother started making gagging noises.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Two surprises, actually.”
Grace laughed. “More than a surprise engagement?”
Bret cocked his chin. “Make that three surprises.”
The first one, it turned out, was a thin gold band that he slipped on her finger. There wedding was in just two days, but he said he still wanted her to feel “engaged.”
The second took a bit longer to discover. The old Hart ranch was set into wide open rolling hills, with acres upon acres of grazing land for the sheep and horses. Bret drove them from the hills into the mountains, until the road narrowed and the trees soared overhead. Finally, he pulled off the road and into a little drive that ended in a large clearing. In the middle of it sat a white farmhouse, with an old barn behind it.
