Chapter Fourteen

The room was softly illuminated by gentle morning light that filtered through the small gaps where the closed curtains met, casting a warm glow on the peaceful bedroom. Samantha lay beside Trubel, her eyes fixed on the slumbering figure next to her. She couldn't help but smile as she watched the rise and fall of Trubel's chest.

The soft rays of sunshine danced upon Trubel's sleeping form, illuminating her features with a gentle radiance. Samantha's heart fluttered a bit as she took in the sight, marveling at the beauty that rested before her.

Her gaze lingered on Trubel's peaceful face, admiring the delicate curve of her cheek. It was moments like these that Samantha cherished—the stolen tranquility of early mornings, where time seemed to stand still, and the world faded away.

But as Samantha continued to observe, a playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Trubel's slumbering state revealed a different side—one that spoke of vulnerability and the unguarded nature of sleep. The contrast between Samantha's romantic ideals and the reality of Trubel's sleep habits made her chuckle softly. Trubel lay sprawled across the bed, her limbs splayed out in disarray. The sheets were haphazardly tossed aside, forgotten in the warmth of the night. Samantha couldn't help but find amusement in Trubel's lack of grace, her mouth slightly agape as a soft snore escaped her lips. Clearly, she'd never had to share a bed with another person before.

A mischievous twinkle danced in Samantha's eyes as she admired the unfiltered authenticity of her new partner. Trubel's uninhibited display brought with it a sense of endearing charm, a reminder that they were two very different individuals navigating the complexities of love and life. It made her want to embrace both the extraordinary and the ordinary moments they shared all the more.

Samantha gently reached out, her fingers brushing against Trubel's cheek, her touch a tender caress. She leaned in, placing a delicate kiss upon Trubel's forehead, silently expressing her affection.

As the morning sunlight continued to trickle into the room, Samantha snuggled closer to Trubel, savoring the peaceful intimacy of the moment. They may come from different worlds, with their own struggles and battles to face, but in the softness of the morning light, she took comfort knowing they could rely on each other.

Suddenly, cries of a baby echoed through the house, causing Trubel to startle. Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked in confusion. Still half-asleep, she mumbled in a drowsy tone, "Huh, whazzat?"

Samantha chuckled softly at Trubel's sleepy response, knowing exactly what had woken her. They listened as, in the next room, the sound of footsteps echoed, followed by Monroe's gentle voice soothing the baby.

Trubel's senses slowly awakened, and she reminded herself that Monroe and Rosalee were still staying with Samantha for their safety. She glanced at Samantha, a sleepy smile playing at her lips. Samantha couldn't help but laugh softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You were startled by the baby," she teased, her voice laced with affection.

Trubel rubbed her eyes, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. "Yeah, I guess I'm not used to waking up to crying babies," she admitted, her voice still groggy. The cries began to fade as Monroe expertly tended to their little one.

Samantha reached out, intertwining her fingers with Trubel's. "It takes some getting used to."

Trubel's eyebrows raised as she realized there was a prospect of the downstairs kitchen awaiting her. She half-whispered and half-shouted, "Breakfast!"

As she moved to roll out of bed, Samantha grabbed her arm, forcing her to pause. "Hang on, hang on. I wanted to talk to you about last night. You got in so late I didn't get to hear what happened. I assume it wasn't terrible, or else you would have woken me?" Samantha inquired.

Trubel turned and collapsed back onto the bed, facing Samantha. She shrugged, "It wasn't great. We had three casualties. They only had one."

Samantha rolled onto her back and covered her eyes with her palms in exasperation. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to face Trubel. "I don't like all this death. I had to hire mercenaries. It never occurred to me that when I took on this role in the Wesen Council, that the word 'mercenaries' would ever leave my lips, let alone that I'd be budgeting their payments. I've been against the death penalty as long as I can remember. Not because I think killers don't deserve it, but because one false conviction is one too many. Taking matters into my own hands, deciding who lives and who dies? It's tearing me up inside, like I can feel my soul being eaten away."

Trubel, in her usual matter-of-fact way, replied, "Good."

Samantha was on the verge of being offended, as though Trubel was wishing her ill will, but then Trubel continued cutting off the argument Samantha was already forming in her mind, "People who find it easy shouldn't be in charge. You'll question it every time, whether it's right or wrong. You'll take your time, deliberate, and only use it as a last resort. The moment you start getting used to it is when you should begin to worry."

Reluctantly, Samantha asked a personal and potentially sensitive question, "Are you used to it?"

Trubel pondered for a moment, then half-shrugged. "Kinda. Ever since Wesen began realizing I was a Grimm, they've been trying to kill me. But I didn't understand why, I didn't know what a Grimm is or what Wesen are. I've had to defend myself so many times..." Her voice trailed off. After a few blinks, she continued as if nothing had happened, "I think it's better to say that I'm prepared for it."

Samantha couldn't overlook that the subject matter cut deeper than Trubel was letting on. She felt terrible for unintentionally prying into Trubel's past, as if she had accidentally glimpsed the pages of someone's diary.

Awkwardness that Samantha seemed to be the only one feeling filled the air, and she unintentionally Woged. Her nose took on a more beak-like appearance, feathers spread along her face and neck. Her eyes, larger in her Woged state with a clear orange hue, stared at Trubel. Samantha was upset with herself for allowing her emotions to overpower her and for revealing her emotional state through her Woge.

Trubel, however, didn't seem to acknowledge that anything was wrong. She simply looked into Samantha's owl eyes and said, "I've seen a lot of Woges from a lot of different Wesen, and yours is very beautiful."

Samantha had been concentrating on removing her Woge, but the effort waned as unexpected flattery washed over her. "It doesn't bother you?" she asked.

Trubel didn't understand the question as intended, nor grasp why it was being asked. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of it, and answered as best she could, "Why would you being you bother me? I like you."

Samantha blinked her owl eyes a few times. Even though she knew Trubel liked her, it still felt incredibly nice to hear it. Grasping Trubel's hand in her own, she said, "I like you too."

Silence lingered for a fleeting moment before Trubel's stomach made itself known with an audible growl.

Samantha giggled at the noise, and her Woged appearance retracted. She lifted an eyebrow at Trubel and said, "Okay, breakfast time."

 ***

When Nick arrived at the precinct, Hank was already there at his desk, diligently working on his computer with a pencil held between his teeth. Occasionally, he would remove the pencil to scribble a line on a paper in front of him, then return it to his mouth. Rather than disturb Hank, who seemed to be catching up on uploading his case files to the police database, Nick decided to get himself a coffee and wander around until he found Wu. He spotted Wu leaning over the shoulder of a corporal, assisting with something on their computer.

Approaching Wu, Nick wasted no time in asking about the unexpected package. Wu held up a finger and replied, "I have it locked in my desk. Do you want it now?"

"Yeah, if it's not too much trouble," Nick replied.

Wu retrieved a set of keys from his pocket and walked over to his desk. He unlocked the largest, bottommost drawer and pulled out the package, handed it to Nick but didn't immediately relinquish his hold. Wu asked, "You have no idea why you received this? Do you want to have the package checked out for any potential danger?"

Nick examined the package. It was wrapped in brown paper and secured with twine. He pondered Wu's question for a few seconds. As a detective for the Portland PD and a Grimm, he had become a target for certain individuals. The knowledge of his Grimm abilities and the existence of Wesen isn't widespread among the general public and there was a chance that the contents of the package could be something dangerous in a Grimm or Wesen-related way. Even if not dangerous, if it was Grimm or Wesen related it could cause people to ask questions he didn't want to answer. Nick shook his head. He replied, "No, I'll just open it very carefully. If it survived international shipping, it can't be anything too dangerous."

Wu raised an eyebrow and responded in his typical dry tone, "Well, you never know." Releasing his grip on the package, he changed the subject, "Any news about what to do next after last night's events?"

"I haven't had much time for follow-up yet. I can't put out an APB on the vehicle we encountered since we couldn't get the plates, and I'm not sure it's safe to involve other officers just yet," Nick explained.

Wu nodded, understanding the situation. "Well, try to keep me in the loop, huh? I woke up with an odd sensation this morning."

Curious, Nick raised an eyebrow and half-jokingly asked, "Do I even want to know?"

Lowering his voice, Wu shared, "The other me? I think he wants another shot at them. I think he's pissed." Wu was referring to the neanderthal-like personality that occasionally took over when he became overly stimulated.

Surprised by this revelation, Nick nodded. "I'll let you know when I find out more." With that, he walked over to his desk, placed the package down.

Hank observed Nick's actions and couldn't contain his curiosity. "What's that?"

Nick started rummaging through his drawers, searching for scissors or a knife. He replied, "Not sure yet. Do you have a knife or something?"

Hank reached into his pocket, retrieved a small pocket knife, and handed it to Nick. Nick closed the drawer he was searching through, took the knife, unfolded it, and deftly cut through the twine and brown paper wrapping. As he did so, an envelope slipped out and fell to the ground. Hank picked it up and handed it to Nick, who returned the knife to his partner.

Examining the envelope, Nick found nothing out of the ordinary. It appeared to be a regular business envelope containing what seemed to be ordinary paper. Setting the envelope aside for a moment, Nick shifted his attention back to the contents of the package itself. He turned it over in his hands, confirming that it was an old fire-resistant document box. However, it was locked, and he couldn't immediately spot an obvious way to open it. He wondered if the key might be inside the envelope, but as he held it, he didn't feel anything resembling a key.

"Well, it's a locked box with no key," Nick remarked, voicing his frustration.

Hank pointed at the envelope and suggested, "If the key isn't in there, maybe it will mention where to find it?"

Nick explained his hesitation, "I have no idea who sent this to me, and I don't want to put anyone else at risk by opening the envelope or the box here. Removing the paper wrapping was as far as I was willing to go."

Hank furrowed his brow, trying to comprehend the situation. "So, where were you planning to open it then?"

Realizing the safer alternative, Nick responded, "Well, now that I know it's a locked box, I'll give Monroe a call. He has that lockpick set. Maybe it's best to open it at the trailer?"

Hank rubbed his chin, contemplating the options. Although he was eager to know what was inside, caution prevailed as he agreed, "No, you're right. Opening it at the trailer would be better."

Nick reached for his phone and dialed Monroe's number, making the necessary arrangements.

As the conversation ended, the anticipation grew. Nick couldn't help but wonder what secrets the locked box held and why it had been sent to him. With Monroe's assistance, he hoped to uncover the truth without risking anyone's safety.

 ***

Monroe arrived at the wooded track of land owned by Nick, purchased under an assumed name. He carefully maneuvered his Volkswagen to a secluded spot that wouldn't hinder his exit later. Walking the remaining distance, he initially had trouble locating the hidden trailer. Nick had done a commendable job of camouflaging it with green paint and blending it with the natural surroundings of trees and bushes.

Surveying the area, Monroe deduced that he was the first to arrive, which surprised him since he had made a detour to the Spice Shop to pick up his lockpick set. He unlocked the trailer using the key Nick had given him months ago. Stepping inside, he was taken aback by the cleanliness and organization compared to the previous trailer destroyed by Juliette. Though the walls showed signs of age, the desk, chairs, weapons cabinet, and bed were in pristine condition. On the knee-level shelves, he found all the Grimm Tomes neatly arranged, except for one that was opened on the desk next to a laptop.

Eager to proceed, Monroe quickly checked outside to ensure he was truly alone, then closed the door and approached the weapons cabinet. Opening it revealed an assortment of maces, morning stars, knives, swords, axes, crossbows, and unfamiliar weapons he would need to research at a later time. Satisfied, he closed the cabinet doors and glanced around, realizing that the trailer lacked the potions that were present in the previous one. He speculated that Nick, with access to the Spice Shop, might have considered the potion collection redundant or simply hadn't had the time to replace them yet. Monroe made a mental note to himself as to what could make for a good Christmas gift for Nick.

 ***

Nick sat inside the car typically driven by Adalind, as his own vehicle had been towed to a body shop for repairs. He had already received an estimate for the work and was contemplating whether it would be more practical to buy a different SUV instead. Technically, the car he was in belonged to Juliette, as he had handed over the keys to Adalind when he believed Juliette to be dead two years ago.

Sitting in the car, Nick found himself in a moment of silence, holding the envelope that accompanied the unexpected package. He decided that if he was going to disregard caution and open it, he should do so alone. He scratched the back of his head, glanced around to ensure privacy, and then tore open the envelope with anticipation. Unfolding the letter, he began reading its contents:

Dear Mr. Burkhardt,

I hope this letter finds you well.

My name is Mr. Anton Caruana, and I am the bank manager at Vista Bank Malta. I am writing to you regarding the safe deposit box belonging to Ms. Victoria Evans, a longstanding client of our institution.

Nick dropped the letter into his lap and began thinking to himself, 'Evans. Do I know anyone named Evans.' After a moment's consideration and coming up with nothing, he resumed:

Ms. Evans has been a valued customer at Vista Bank Malta for many years, and we have always held her in high regard. Recently, we encountered a situation with regard to the renewal of her safe deposit box. It has been a common occurrence for Ms. Evans to be late with her renewal payments in the past, and we have accommodated her with understanding.

However, this time, an extended period has passed without any communication or payment from Ms. Evans. Given the significant delay, we found ourselves in a position where we could no longer wait indefinitely for her to renew the box. In adherence to our policies and legal obligations, we had to take action. As I'm sure you are aware, Ms. Evans had made arrangements with our bank, ensuring that in the event of any complications, the contents of her safe deposit box would be transferred to you. It is our duty to fulfill this responsibility, and we are committed to doing so with the utmost care and diligence.

Due to the lapse in communication, we have completed the necessary steps to ship the contents of the safe deposit box to you. Please accept our apologies for any inconvenience caused by this.

Enclosed with this letter, you will find the package containing the belongings of Ms. Evans' safe deposit box, one fire resistant box and its contents. We have taken all necessary precautions to ensure its safe and secure delivery.

Should you have any questions or require further assistance, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Yours sincerely,

Anton Caruana

Bank Manager,

Vista Bank Malta

Nick didn't know what to think of this. The bank manager claimed that Evans had been a customer for years. If taken at face value, it would seem to him that there was no danger in opening the box.

 ***

Monroe had been laying on the bed, fading in and out of consciousness when the door to the trailer swung open and Nick stormed in. Startled, Monroe rubbed his eyes and asked, "Dude, where have you been?"

Nick placed the fire-resistant box on the desk and replied, "I stopped to read this letter. It came with the box."

Monroe took the letter from Nick and began scanning it, his brows furrowed. "Victoria Evans? Who the hell is that?"

Nick shook his head, pointing at the box. "I'm hoping we're about to find out. Do you have the lockpick set?"

"Yeah, man. I have it right here." Monroe pulled the lockpick set from his pocket and began working on the lock of the fire-resistant box. After a couple of minutes, he unlocked it but refrained from opening the lid with a flourish, reminding himself of the potential danger. He gestured toward the trailer door, "You know, maybe I should step outside while you open that?"

Nick nodded, understanding the caution.

Instead, Monroe took a few steps back toward the rear of the trailer. "I'll just take a few steps back, how 'bout that?"

Nick smiled and replied, "That's fine too."

With Monroe at a safe distance, Nick slowly and carefully lifted the lid of the box, keeping a watchful eye for any triggers or traps. However, all the caution proved unnecessary as the lid swung back, spilling out a few rolls of money onto the floor.

Monroe immediately stepped forward, picking up the fallen rolls and placing them on the desk. He gazed into the box, marveling at the assortment of currencies from different countries in various denominations and sizes. Nick, not an expert on currency, looked at Monroe, curious about his reaction.

"Nick, you won't believe this!" Monroe exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and wonder. "We've got currencies from all over the place here! Look at this!" He started separating the rolls and calling out the countries, his voice growing louder with each discovery. "We've got Euros, British pounds, Swiss francs, Swedish krona, Danish krone, Polish zloty, Czech koruna, Hungarian forint, Norwegian krone, Romanian leu, Bulgarian lev, Croatian kuna, and Serbian dinar!"

As Monroe continued to examine the rolls of money, he grabbed a few others and inspected them closely. His excitement turned to mild disappointment as he made an unexpected realization. "Check this out. These bills, they're not even being made anymore. Look at this one, it's an old Romanian leu, and this one is a Croatian kuna. They're both out of circulation. I'm not sure if they're still exchangeable or maybe they're collectible now? Either way, even if we set these aside, there's a LOT of money here."

Monroe paused for a moment, holding a roll of U.S. One Hundred-dollar bills. He turned to Nick, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Dude, what is going on?"

Nick shrugged, his mind racing with questions and possibilities. "Your guess is as good as mine at this point."

Just as Monroe was about to close the lid of the box, he noticed a piece of paper taped to the inside. Curiosity piqued, he pulled off the tape and glanced at the paper. His expression turned somber, "Oh, dude. I'm so sorry." His eyes filled with sorrow, he handed the paper to Nick. With no explanation he turned and left. Before Nick could focus on the words, Monroe was already closing the door behind him.

Nick sat on the bed, the weight of the moment settling upon him. He began reading the letter:

Dear Nick,

I have written this letter many times in different ways, attempting to supply both apologies and explanations. But this is the first time I can put pen to paper knowing that you finally understand the reason for my absence all these years. You'll also understand why I couldn't put my real name anywhere on my account.

I can't express in words how much I love you and how deeply I regret not being there for you during your formative years. Every day, I carried the weight of that decision, knowing the impact it would have on both of us. It was a sacrifice made out of love and necessity, though it hurt.

Life has its own way of throwing unexpected challenges our way. The choices we make in those moments shape our destiny. My path took a turn that required me to step away, to protect you and keep you safe from the dangers that lurked in the shadows of our world. Keeping my distance meant keeping you out of harm's way.

As you open this package and explore its contents, you'll find money I've accumulated over the years. Acquired through methods that maybe I shouldn't be proud of. They were means to an end, allowing me to stay hidden and ensure your safety from those who sought to harm us. There are also three very important coins that I'm sure you'll know what to do with.

Please understand that the actions I took were driven by a mother's fierce love for her child. I navigated a treacherous world, always keeping your well-being at the forefront of my mind. It was a delicate dance, balancing secrecy and sacrifices required to protect you.

I know that my absence has caused you pain and confusion, and for that, I am truly sorry.

Nick, my beloved son, you'll only receive this package if something should happen to me or (and let's be honest here) I don't get around to paying the annual fee.

Regardless, I want you to know that you have my unwavering support. Please hold onto the knowledge that you are loved and cherished beyond measure. Trust that I will always be with you in spirit, guiding you along your journey.

With all my love,

Mom

As Nick finished reading the heartfelt letter, a mix of emotions washed over him. He felt a blend of sorrow, understanding, and a newfound appreciation for the sacrifices his mother had made. The currencies in the box now represented more than just monetary value—they carried the weight of a mother's love and determination to protect her child.

He stood from the bed and walked back to the box. He carefully removed all the rolls of currency until he found what he was looking for. Taped to the bottom of the box was another white envelope. When he pulled it free he could not only feel but hear the coins bouncing against each other inside. Just to be doubly certain, he opened the envelope to find what he knew she had referred to as the three very important coins.

They were the Coins of Zakynthos. A lion's head on one side and a Swastika on the other. Highly sought after. They're the reason his father is dead and his mother had to leave him to be raised by his Aunt. Addictive to the touch, they were forged in the 8th century B.C. and, historically, those who held the coins have gained charismatic influence over others.

For unknown reasons, Grimms seem to be immune to the addictive effects. For that reason, his mother had tasked herself to take them to Zakynthos to be destroyed. The opportunity to do so, however, didn't present itself before his mother had been killed.

He stared at them for a moment. Trying to decide if he should be traveling to Zakynthos himself or simply bury the coins somewhere and hope they're never found.

He decided to split the difference. For the short term, he would bury them on his land until a more long term solution could be found. No one, not even Monroe could know where they were hidden. The knowledge of their whereabouts alone could get him killed.