“What I really don’t get is why Morelli would look for trouble when the rest of our kind is trying to win favor with humans,” said Gabe, Jaime’s brother. “I wouldn’t have thought all the PR work would pay off, but it is.”
When the radical, increasingly violent anti-shifter extremists had resorted to acts of terrorism that caused many human casualties, the groups had lost a lot of credibility. Even prejudiced humans were no longer so willing to listen to them; instead they seemed to be practicing the “live and let live” ethic. A lot of packs, prides, and other groups had pounced on that and had independently begun doing PR work for shifters, hoping to counter the negative stereotypes floating around about them. The last thing shifters needed was one of their kind attracting negative attention.
“Speaking of PR, your video now has over seventy million views, Trick.” Dante’s mouth twitched. “Bet you never saw that coming.”
Trick cast him a hard look. “It’s not my video.”
Dante grinned. “Well, you’re the star.”
When Trick had fought off a gang of human boys who were about to mug and possibly assault a human female, someone caught the incident on their cell phone. He’d become a YouTube sensation overnight, and he wasn’t pleased about it. He’d carried the terrified female—who’d clung to him like a barnacle—out of the alley, and the whole thing had been romanticized.
He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a good guy human girls should crush on. And he was damn sick of people asking him if he was the shifter savior on YouTube.
“You should be glad, Trick,” said Jaime, smoky-blue eyes dancing with mischief. “Other shifters are working hard to gain acceptance and popularity with humans by going on the radio and appearing on daytime talk shows. You accomplished that for our pack just by doing a good deed. Although I’m not so sure it would have had the same effect if you weren’t so hot.”
Each muscle in his powerful build tensing, Dante scowled at his mate. “You don’t get to call another guy ‘hot’ unless you want to get your ass spanked.”
“Maybe that’s why I did it, Popeye,” Jaime shot back with a saucy grin.
Their byplay made Trick’s chest clench and caused his wolf’s mood to sour. A deep loneliness had steadily crept up on Trick and his wolf as they’d watched their pack mates and allies find their true mates, one by one. Of the adult male wolves within his pack, only he and Dominic remained unmated. There was now a bitter edge to his wolf’s loneliness.
Dante and Jaime had known each other since they were children, when they’d all belonged to the Bjorn Pack. Trick had been a teenager when it split, and he’d left with some other wolves to form the Phoenix Pack. Jaime had remained behind, too young to make the decision to leave. It wasn’t until she’d transferred to the Phoenix Pack as an adult that she and Dante had realized they were true mates.
It wasn’t uncommon for mates to fail to immediately recognize one another. Several things could jam the frequency of a mating bond, including doubts, fears, and secrets. In other words, people often let their personal shit get in the way. They didn’t listen to their inner animals and sometimes even blinded themselves to the obvious out of fear.
Personally, Trick didn’t get it. What was so bad about having a mate? Nothing. Sure, your life would change in many ways, but you’d also be whole and happy in a way that you could never otherwise be.
Unlike some, Trick had no reservations about mating. He didn’t have any hang-ups about being bonded to someone, wasn’t fearful of commitment, and wouldn’t shy away from the sacrifices he’d have to make.
He’d always had a drive inside him to find his mate. He wasn’t sure if that was normal, but that need to hunt and claim her had always been there. Like an itch that needed scratching.
Since he didn’t have any hang-ups that could jam the frequency of the bond, Trick was positive that he’d recognize his mate on sight. Of course, the frequency might not be clear for her, and so he wouldn’t necessarily feel the tug of the mating bond straightaway, but that wouldn’t stop him from acting. He’d simply approach her, voice his belief, convince her that it was true, and then cleave himself to her. There was no reason for it to be complicated. Oh, sure, it was important for couples to get to know each other and build trust, but that could be done while they were mated as far as he was concerned.
From her position on the rug, Lydia cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “Um . . . if we’re finished talking about the trackers, there’s something I need to add.”
Trick frowned. Her anxiety was almost palpable. She was a submissive wolf who was usually laid-back and easy to be around. At that moment, though, she was strung up tight. “What’s wrong?”
She licked her lips and then opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“What is it?” asked Trey.
Her mate, Cam, gently nudged her, and Lydia inhaled deeply. “You’re probably going to be mad,” she warned the Alphas.
Taryn gave her a gentle smile. “Lydia, tell us what’s wrong.”
“I won’t lose my shit,” Trey promised. “Whatever it is can’t be that bad. Now tell us.”
Lydia’s shoulders lost a little of their stiffness. “Those of you who once belonged to my childhood pack will remember that my older brother died when I was young.”
“Damn, I’m sorry,” said Taryn. “I didn’t even know you had a brother.” Unlike most of the Phoenix Pack, Taryn hadn’t been part of the Bjorn Pack.
Lydia licked her lips. “He, um . . . he shot himself. He killed his mate, and then he shot himself.”
Taryn’s mouth fell open. “Oh my God. Wait, I think I once heard something about a wolf who turned on his mate before ending his own life.”
“Many packs got wind of the story.”
Trick had been just a kid at the time, but he hadn’t forgotten that night. Hadn’t forgotten the sadness, shock, and grief that had weighed heavily on the pack. After all, it wasn’t often that mates turned on each other like that.
“Christopher wasn’t a bad person,” Lydia insisted. “He worshipped the ground Caroline, his mate, walked on. They argued, sure, and he had a temper, but . . . it was just so out of character for him to harm her. There was no way to work out exactly what happened that night. There was only one witness—their daughter, my niece. She was only three at the time.”
Jaime smiled weakly. “She was my favorite playmate.”
Trick remembered little Francesca well. She’d been the youngest of the pups, so they’d all been very protective of her. She’d been bright and full of life, and he’d teased her often by tugging on her curls and chasing her around.
Even though she’d been tiny and delicate looking, no one had thought of her as weak. She was born prematurely and had gone through such a complicated birth that the pack healer hadn’t expected her to live more than forty-eight hours. But she’d pulled through and instantly earned a reputation as a fighter.
“Three?” Taryn echoed. She shoved a hand through her hair, pinning back the different shades of blonde. “Jesus, she must have been terrified.”
“She was the prettiest, sweetest kid you’ve ever known,” said Lydia, nostalgia in her voice. “I was only eight years older than Francesca. We were very close. Her mom was beautiful—tall and slender with blonde spiral curls. Francesca was a mini version of her, only she had Christopher’s blue eyes and dimples.”
Trick drummed his fingers on his thigh. “She’s a sculptor now, right?”
Lydia’s eyes snapped to him. “Right. How did you know that?”
He shrugged. “I looked her up a few times. I was curious about how she turned out. Her work’s good.” Very good. And very dark.
Sighing, Lydia rubbed at her nape. “I don’t know how much she saw that night, or if she even really understood what happened. I didn’t get a chance to find out.”
Taryn’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Her maternal family is human. They were devastated by their da
ughter’s death—blamed my brother, my family, the pack. They wanted to take Francesca, and they did. The pack would have fought to keep her, but she seemed so traumatized. Mom thought that being away from the territory for a little while would be good for her, but what Mom hadn’t counted on was that the humans would refuse to allow us to even visit her. They wanted all shifters out of her life, regardless of the fact that Francesca was half shifter herself.”
“Bastards,” muttered Riley.
“Mom appealed to the human courts for access to her, but her grandparents are mega-rich and they hired an attorney that ran circles around ours. We lost the case and were cut out of Francesca’s life. Once I was old enough, I started to watch over her from afar. I had Rhett check on her and keep me updated. I passed on that information to Mom, who was heartbroken about being parted from her grandchild. We just wanted to be sure that Francesca was happy, healthy, and safe.”
“Is she?” asked Makenna.
“It seems so,” replied Lydia. “The Newmans gave her a good life. So many times I thought about contacting her, but I was worried that she wouldn’t want to hear from us. I mean, my brother did kill her mother. It was enough for us to know that she was okay. But Mom isn’t going to last long.”
Though Lydia’s mother, Iris, was a proud woman who liked to look after herself, she’d agreed to transfer to their pack so that Lydia could help care for her. Having recently lost her mate, Iris was weakening fast—many shifters died after losing their mate. Trick suspected that Iris had agreed to move here mostly so she could spend what time she had left with her daughter.
“She’d like to see Francesca just once before she passes on,” Lydia added.
“You’ve contacted Francesca already,” Marcus guessed.
“I sent her an e-mail earlier today, asking if she’d agree to visit. It was an impulsive decision. I’m sorry I didn’t run it by you first,” Lydia told the Alphas. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting her to answer. But she did.”
“And?” prodded Taryn.
“Well, it was weird.”
Trick frowned. “Weird how?”
Lydia bit her lip. “She doesn’t seem to have a clue who I am.”
CHAPTER TWO
Tao opened and closed his mouth a few times. “How can she not know who you are?”
“I don’t know.” Lydia lifted a shaky hand to her face. “I wasn’t mysterious in the e-mail; I was clear about who I was.”
Riley leaned forward, but Tao pulled her back against him. “Read me the e-mail you sent her,” she said to Lydia, digging her elbow into Tao’s ribs—he only grunted.
Lydia’s thumbs tapped at the screen of her cell phone a few times.
“‘Dear Francesca,
I doubt you’ll remember me well, if at all. But you knew me very well as a child, before you left the pack and went to live with your grandparents. Your father, Christopher, was my older brother. Given what happened all those years ago, I can understand if you don’t wish to have anything to do with the paternal side of your family. But we would very much like to see you. My mother, your grandmother, has been given mere weeks to live. She loves you very much—we both do. If you could find it in your heart to see her just one time, it would mean everything to her. I hope to hear from you soon.
Best wishes,
Your Aunt Lydia’”
“And her response?” asked Trey.
“‘I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong Francesca Newman. Good luck with finding who you’re looking for.’”
Dante narrowed his eyes. “Is it possible that you have the wrong person?”
“No way.” Lydia shook her head, adamant. “I’m sure this is her. I’ve been following her life for a long time. I’ve seen pictures of her online—she still looks like Caroline.”
Trick scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “If she doesn’t know who you are, I’d say her grandparents have fed her bullshit about her past.”
“Crap.” Lydia raked a hand through her hair. “Now I don’t know what to do. If she doesn’t know about me, if they’ve fed her a different story, my contacting her will upset her life. I don’t want that. Maybe I should agree that I got the wrong person.” She looked at Cam for advice, but he shrugged.
“This has to be your decision, sweetheart,” Cam told her.
“I don’t think that backtracking will work,” said Trick. “There are enough facts in that e-mail to make her wonder. Her mother’s dead, she lives with her grandparents, she doesn’t have her father in her life. She’s not going to ignore all that. She’ll look into it, talk to her grandparents about it.”
“Trick’s right,” said Marcus, rubbing at the dark stubble on his jaw. “There’s little point in going back now. But if you want to drop this, that’s your decision. We’ll respect it.”
Jaime nodded. “I can understand that you’re reluctant to upset her, Lydia, but she has every right to know the truth. I’m mad as hell that they lied to her all this time.”
Lydia swallowed. “But the truth is pretty harsh, isn’t it?”
“She still has a right to know,” Grace firmly stated. “And I’d like to see her again. She wasn’t in my life for long, but I see her as one of us.”
“She is ours,” said Dominic. “Iris only stayed with the Bjorn Pack because she wanted to be near Christopher’s grave. But I think that if she’d had custody of Francesca, she’d have joined our pack for her sake. Francesca would have been a Phoenix Pack wolf. She was taken from us, and she’s been without a pack for long enough.”
“Yeah,” agreed Marcus. “It’s time she reconnected with us.”
Lydia stroked her throat. “She may wish she’d never found out the truth.”
“You should send her another e-mail tomorrow that makes things a little clearer, Lydia,” Dante advised. “But don’t tell her too much. You want to make her curious enough to meet you.”
“If she’s strong, she’ll face it and deal with it.” Lips pursed, Trick shrugged. “Guess this will show us just how strong she is.”
After pulling up outside her grandparents’ home the next day, Frankie switched off the ignition. The white three-story building was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. Stylish. Classy. Elegant. But when she was growing up, it had also felt constricting at times. When she was inside that house, certain things were expected of her—even as a child. Extreme politeness. Complete composure. Absolute obedience.
She’d failed on all counts.
Not purposely or spitefully. But because there was a wildness in her that wouldn’t allow for that sort of control. Her wolf had always bucked against her grandparents’ strictness—not in defiance, but out of her protectiveness toward Frankie.
She walked between the white columns and dashed up the steps. The housekeeper, Edna, opened the door and smiled. “Hello, Frankie.”
It was a very informal greeting for a housekeeper, but Edna had been good to Frankie over the years, encouraging and supporting her when her grandparents didn’t. Usually Frankie would talk with her a little. Today she was too anxious to speak to her grandparents.
With only an absentminded greeting for Edna, Frankie headed inside. The house was as classy on the inside as it was on the outside. Bright and spacious, with chandeliers, antiques, and crown moldings. There was plenty of artistic decor throughout, but not even one of her sculptures—it was a statement that her grandparents didn’t approve of her chosen profession.
Her grandparents loved her, but they’d never understood her. Never understood that there hadn’t really been a choice for her. Sculpting wasn’t something she did to pass the time or amuse herself. There was a drive inside her to create, to shut out the world while she disappeared into her own. It made her feel alive. Maybe they didn’t understand because, though they were both ambitious, neither of them had a “passion.”
She didn’t expect them to understand. She just wished they’d accept it.
Her heels clicked along the marble floor as she headed down the wid
e hallway. She found her grandparents in the cool, airy sitting room. Geoffrey stood in front of the high window, talking on his cell phone, while Marcia sat on the upholstered sofa, sipping what was probably iced tea.
Marcia’s mouth curled. “Francesca, this is a surprise. I’m glad you’re here. Selma White will be coming for dinner tonight with her son. I hope you’ll join us.” She rose, clearly expecting Frankie to cross the room and kiss her cheek. But Frankie couldn’t seem to move. She felt rooted to the spot as she stared at them, looking at them through new eyes. Could they really have lied to her all these years? Why?
Ending his call, Geoffrey turned to her. He smiled automatically at the sight of her, but that smile faltered as he took her in. “Is something wrong?”
Frankie balled her hands into fists. “Do I have an Aunt Lydia?”
There was a boom of silence, and her grandparents exchanged a brief look.
“You told me that my father was Dustin Turner, that he was a lone wolf and he didn’t tell you what pack he came from—that all you knew was that the pack wanted nothing to do with him or me.” She forced herself to take a few steps forward. “Was that story a lie?”
Geoffrey rested a hand on the back of an armchair. “Francesca—”
“Was it a lie?”
Marcia calmly took another sip of her drink. A top neurosurgeon, Marcia Newman was extremely intelligent, and always cool and composed no matter the situation. Sometimes she was a little too cool. Unfeeling, even. “Just why would you ask that?”
“Just why won’t you answer?”
Geoffrey sighed. “You have an Aunt Lydia, yes.”
Frankie’s stomach plummeted. “Was my father’s name really Dustin Turner?”
Geoffrey hesitated. “No.”
A shaky breath left her lungs. She felt cold all over as several emotions rattled her. Confusion. Shock. Hurt. Betrayal. Her wolf curled her upper lip, eyeing them both with distrust. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me about her? Why give me a false name? Why all the lies?”
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