Chapter 7: Grant's Confession

Grant's perspective:

I roll to a stop in front of Bram's wing of The Den. Bram sits in the rocker on his front porch, toying with his phone, pretending not to notice that I drove up.

From the bottom step of the porch to the highest arch, every inch, even the tinted windows, of Bram's wing, is as black as his coat. I've never understood why he wanted it this way. It's hideous. But there's a darkness in him I've honestly never understood. Even though he has treked the world chasing adrenaline highs with me, he has chosen to be the one behind the camera and never in front of it. And anytime we are in public, he hangs back and keeps to himself. He hides from the world.

Hanging out the window, I slap the door of the Jeep. "Bram!" his eyes shift from his phone. "Yorkie says one of the beacons on the perimeter is down. I need you to come with me and see what’s up.”

With little more than a grumble of complaint, Bram stands from his chair on the front porch of his suite, his light colored clothing moving like an inverted shadow against his pitch background. Moving with no more impetus than a snake after eating a belly full, he slithers down the concrete walkway, around the front of the Jeep, then climbs into the passenger seat and leans it back, putting both hands behind his head. "What are you waiting for? Let's go."

I shift into drive and speed off down the main drag headed for the border, about two miles north. Once we reach the end of the main road, we pull off onto the dirt track that leads along the border for a few miles until we reach the base of the northernmost ridge. I put the gearshift in park and turn off the car. "It's the one on top of the hill, near the waterfall bordering Vin's land."

Bram gives a half-a**ed nod and rolls out of the passenger door.

We ascend the hill about five hundred feet to its peak. The beacon is about a hundred feet in front of us, near the edge of the cliff that faces the falls that run off Vin's property into the base of the section of the Tanana that runs through our land. The red flash from the top of the beacon tells me that we have the right one.

I bend down and open the fuse box. Bram has walked past the beacon and now stands at the edge of the cliff, peering at the falls as they cascade down the rocks. "D*mn it. The same fuse keeps blowing. I can't figure out why. We just need to buy a new beacon." Bram keeps his back to me. The little prick’s ignoring me.

Ever since we were kids, if he didn’t get his way, he would ghost me. It’s annoying really, but he’s like a little brother to me, so I deal with it. How could I not? If it weren’t for my dad, he wouldn’t be an orphan. If it weren't for my dad, we wouldn’t be rogues.

We were born into the Tananak pack in the Tanana Valley, a small territory in the Yukon-Tanana uplands that is but a part of our home now, what we call The Territory–10,000 acres that I bought for us after making my first billion. Though we live well now, our childhood was not a happy one. I still remember watching my father, Kal, the Alpha of the Tananak, go pyscho. I don't know what drove him mad. My mom would never tell me. It just sort of happened.

I woke up to the sound of howls, screams, and the thud of flesh against flesh. I ran to the window and looked down on the meeting place in the center of our compound. Dad was fighting his brother, Abram, Bram's father. No, not fighting. Dad was killing his brother. I watched as my dad sank his teeth into his own brother's throat and ripped it out. Bram's mom, Sarai, jumped on his back, sinking her claws. With a single motion, he threw her from his back and tore her torso wide open. Blood and organs rushed out of her body. In lust for more blood, Dad went house to house and murdered every member of our pack, adults and pups alike, flooding the valley with shifter blood.

Mom ran into my room with Bram in her arms and snatched me from my frozen position at the window, watching my dad slaughter everyone. Mom took me and Bram, threw us in the truck and sped to the airfield. Luckily, my grandfather and namesake, Grant Wells, had made a living as a pilot and taught my mom to fly. She stole a plane and took us to northern California.

We lived in the woods for a long time with nothing to wear and nothing to eat except what we killed, until I was almost a teenager, nine years later. For Bram and me, Mom was our home, our church, and our teacher. She was our whole world. Finally, Mom felt it was safe to move into town and take on new identities, setting us free on the world of humans, a whole other wildness to conquer.

"I guess we'll have to just get a new beacon," I repeat.

Bram breaks his silence. "She can't stay."

I finish replacing the fuse before I respond. "You don't understand. She has to."

Bram whips around. "You don't even know why she left, why she's here."

"It doesn't matter." I stand to my feet and dust off my hands. "It doesn't matter why she left. I have to protect her."

"Don't give me that sh*t. We can't afford a war with Vin. You can beat him, but we can't beat the whole pack. He has more than one pack on his side. You know this. If he finds out she’s here, Vin will come for us."

"Whether Emily showed up or not, Vin will come for us sooner or later. Don't pretend like you don't already know it."

"She's lying to you. She's not telling you everything."

I turn my back to Bram and pace. He's right. She’s holding something back from me. She still hasn’t told me why she ran. I’m not stupid. I know she ran because of her brother, but what exactly he did to make her run and why she can’t accept the fact that we’re fated mates, she won’t say yet.

I get that her brother is a d*ck and that he is dangerous. I get that she probably doesn’t trust Alphas because of him. But she came to my territory. She came to me for refuge. Whatever made her do that must be serious. I need to gain her trust. I have to gain her trust. But whether she tells me the truth or not, I have no choice but to protect her.

I turn back to Bram and reluctantly admit why I can't let her go. "It's fate."

"F*ck you. Her? Fate? Since when did you care about that sh*t?"

"It's true. I know you can see it."

"I don't give a sh*t if it's fate or not, I don't want to die for this b*tch."

I rush Bram, lift him by the collar, and slam him to the ground. "Shut your f*cking mouth. I will end you right here and now." In rage, I can feel my body starting to shift. I tilt my head back and howl.

Bram's eyes are wide with fear. He throws his hands up. "Woah-woah-woah. Calm down."

"I can't help that you never found your fated mate. Don't blame that on me and don't you dare take that out on her!"

Speaking softly, Bram tries his hand at an apology. "Sorry. I'm sorry. It's not about that, I swear. I never found my mate, but I love Kayla. She is better than fate to me."

My heart rate settles. I release my grip on Bram and stand to my feet. Reaching down a hand of friendship, I apologize. "I shouldn't have... Forgive me."

Bram grabs my hand and rises to his feet. "It's okay," he stammers and brushes himself off. "I just want what's best for the pack. That's all."

Although I admire the statement, something in his countenance and a tinge in his voice doesn’t bode well. Is he just trying to tell me what I want to hear? I shake the thought away. This is my best friend, my brother, my Beta. Even if he is trying to say what I want to hear instead of what may be at the root of his words, it’s only to comfort me. Bram’s never been sentimental, but he’s always had my back. Although he may not care for Emily, that doesn’t mean he’d betray me.