Page 27 of The Alpha's Stolen Mate

I turned and raised one of my eyebrows.

“You know that Grandpa’s visits aren't normally planned. He comes to visit us when he isn't too busy with work,” I said.

My father made the ten-hour trip here every few months. Sometimes, when he was too swamped with Delta duties, my mom would travel back to WaterLock to spend time with him. Whenever my father visited, he brought a handwritten letter from Gabriel, but I refused to read them, throwing away each one. My dad said that Gabriel was always asking him how I was and if he could visit me, but my father just told him I was too sick. No one knew about Gabriel breaking our Mating bond. My dad, mom, and Aunt Mia all just thought I refused to speak with Gabriel because it could be dangerous.

Whenever he visited, my father brought news from the pack. Thankfully, no one else in WaterLock had been killed by a Rogue wolf. Gabriel had hired contract warriors to help defend our borders. My father explained that Gabriel would contact warriors from the Pyregate Kingdom and arrange for them to travel to our pack. The only problem was that these warriors couldn't stay for a long time and they had to keep cycling through new ones. There had been a few close calls of Rogues attacking a pack member, but at least they were only injured. The contract warriors weren't a long-term option, so Alpha Everett was still pushing for the arranged marriage between Olivia and Gabriel.

My father told me that the only problem with the marriage deal was that Gabriel was doing pretty well for himself since he owned a cybersecurity company—which was how he had the funds to hire contract warriors to help alleviate the threat to the pack.

When the Alpha King heard about Gabriel’s successful company, he kept raising the price for his service of providing members of the Royal Guard to help protect WaterLock. My father told me that the price the Alpha King was demanding now was so high that no one could possibly afford it. The marriage deal was at a stalemate.

The only reason that I was willing to listen to any news about my former Mate was because it concerned my father’s safety and his career.

My son's shoulders slumped from my telling him that I didn't know when he would see his grandpa next.

“Oh,” he muttered and frowned.

I ruffled his slightly curly hair. This was something he had inherited from his grandfather.

“We can video call him tonight, buddy,” I promised. “He's always excited to see you even if it's through a screen. What made you ask about him, honey?” I walked over to the red chicken coop, and Grayson and Goose followed after me. “Are you just missing him?”

I began to collect the small brown eggs and placed them carefully in my wooden basket. Aunt Mia, my mom, and I all took turns selling eggs, milk, bouquets of flowers, baked goods, and fruits and vegetables from our garden in town. Since Shadow Pass was up in the mountains, it was hard for us to receive deliveries, so a lot of families relied on the farms for food.

“Yeah,” Grayson answered glumly. “I don't know, I just have a bad feeling.” My son paused and patted Goose's head absently. “Can I have a PB&J for lunch?”

I picked up another egg but didn't put it in the basket. Instead, I spun around to face my son.

“What do you mean you have a bad feeling, sweetheart?”

Grayson's cheeks reddened, and he pulled at his bottom lip.

“I don't know,” Grayson said and shrugged self-consciously. “There's like this weird feeling in the bottom of my stomach. It's not painful exactly, but it's been there since this morning whenever I think about Grandpa.”

“Oh, honey.” I reached out and pulled him close to me with my hand that wasn't holding the egg. “That feeling is called worry. Sometimes, we experience it when we are thinking about people we love. We worry about our loved ones because we care about them. Especially when we don't get to see them that much. I'm sorry you're worried about your Grandpa, honey. But he's all right. Grandma talked to him last night. Do you remember that? Grandma put her phone on speaker and he said hi to you.”

Grayson pulled away and nodded. But there was still a crease between his eyebrows.

A forgotten memory jumped into my head. When I was seven, I experienced the same thing Grayson was describing. I woke up in a cold sweat, irrational dread gnawing at my stomach. The next day, I learned that Aunt Mia had fallen in the shower. She had sprained her arm and leg, but it could have been a lot worse.

Was I discounting Grayson’s worry because he was young? I didn’t know of any witches in our family, so he wasn't having a premonition. But he could be experiencing a sort of sixth sense. Maybe the magic that made us shifters manifested itself as an enhanced intuitiveness when we were young.

My stomach jolted as I pictured my dad’s face.

“Honey, do you want to call Grandpa now? I'm sure he would love to—”

A shout behind us interrupted me.

I pulled Grayson behind me and faced the direction the sound had come from.

Aunt Mia and my mother were running toward us, and when they got closer, I noticed that they were wearing matching expressions of horror. Their faces were stark white, and their eyes were wild with anxiety.

Thick apprehension settled over me like the morning fog. Accidentally, I let go of the egg I was holding and watched it fall to the ground. When it cracked, yellow yolk oozed onto the wet grass.

My mother skidded to a stop in front of me and tightly grasped my hands. She opened her mouth, but the only sound that came out was a strangled cry.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

My mother could only shake her head in response.

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