Nix disappears up the stairs, leaving his towel at the bottom as an incentive for Grayson to hurry up.
They’re all watching Nix leave, but when Grayson looks to his alpha, Jay’s eyes are already on him. He’s sitting on the sofa, phone in hand, Leo’s head in his lap. His alpha doesn’t look calm yet, and he probably won’t until they know what they’re dealing with. Despite the tense set of his shoulders and the muscle ticking in his jaw, his eyes are soft.
“Sugar, can we…” Luca says. He’s shifting side-to-side, antsy, and headed for something that needs Gideon’s special brand of care. Their sensitive beta had been the most concerned that they weren’t running for the hills.
“Luc?” Grayson asks. “You okay with sticking it out?”
Grayson has an armful of burnt-coffee-scented beta before he even stops speaking. “Not really. I won’t lie and say I’d be happier far away, where no one can hurt you or the kids. But, as you said, the chance it could go our way is worth trying. If we don’t at least stand and fight, we’ll never know. You know what I mean?”
“I love you, baby,” Grayson whispers. Leave it to Luca to perfectly distill the whole thing down to a few short words.
“Yeah, yeah. Where is your T-shirt?” He snags it off the countertop and holds it to his nose. “You owe me a post-run-when-we’re-not-on-the-run make-out sesh.”
“Deal.”
“I’m going to go see if Finn is willing to console me…” He slips down the hall, leaving Grayson alone in the kitchen with Gideon.
“Gid? You never said…” Grayson leans his elbows on the island, hoping his mate will offer some words of wisdom or encouragement, but he should know better.
“You can’t think I’m happy about it, pretty. No matter what you said to them, you and I—and probably Jaybird—know this is going to get worse before it gets better.”
“Why didn’t you say something before when I was all—”
“Optimistic and hopeful? Because as much as I don’t like that we’re at risk…I meant what I said: It is your choice, and we will back you all the way—in every way.”
“Yeah?” Grayson moves around the island so he can get as close to the stormy-scented alpha. “I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”
That causes Gideon’s eyes to pop wide before he scoffs. “Then you should quit leaving your stinky-ass running shoes in the foyer when you get home. And throw your tea bags into the compost. Oh, and don’t think I don’t know it’s you who lets the dog into my room when I’m—”
“Hug me,” Grayson interrupts.
“Needy. The whole lot of you.” His words are grouchy, but his arms are strong and warm, and the feel of his soft black T-shirt against Grayson’s cheek eases the last of his anxiety away.
“You would have really packed us up with new identities and shit?”
“In a heartbeat. Still will, if that psycho even looks at you wrong today. Go clean up and see Nix. Come back, and we cango over our strategy. We’ll leave here at three. Grands will be here by 2:30.” He kisses Grayson’s ear, whispers, “Love you,” so quietly Grayson almost misses it.
“It’s going to be okay,” Grayson says. “Love you, too.”
“Yeah, yeah. Git,” he says with a smirk as he swats Grayson’s butt. “And take your smelly shoes to your room, for fuck’s sake!”
Grayson collects his running shoes. Domino and Doodle are relieved/disappointed, respectively, to be let out of their carriers, and they disappear down the hall toward the nest room where little boy giggles and baby shrieks make Grayson’s heart twinge. He dodges Finn’s book bags and Luca’s bins of nesting supplies. There are three suitcases and three carry-ons packed waiting as well, and it hits him.
Really, really hits him.
They had been serious.
He tries to imagine them in the matte black van arriving at the private airstrip, loading all their favorite things into the private plane, and disappearing forever to Canada or Peru or Thailand or wherever those passports, money, and Gideon’s connections would have gotten them. They could still need all this stuff—and more—after the tribunal, but at least now Grayson is ready.
Their beautiful life here, or in Switzerland, or wherever they may end up someday, is worth fighting for, and Grayson is going to take a stand to make sure everyone knows it. Including him.
Grayson
The Guild’s administrative building sits behind the school proper. Square, squat, and dismal, uninspired grey, it’s the exact opposite of the kind of space Grayson would have designed to inspire educators. There’s no personality beyond the carefully trimmed shrubbery and topiaries outside, a sign that someone with a love of landscape design has tried to lift this place out of the doldrums.
Jay pulls open the innocuous glass doors to usher them through one-by-one. Grayson doesn’t have to turn around to watch as the Pack Alpha does a quick headcount as they pass, as if he’s a kindergarten teacher and they’re on a field trip. Grayson does catch a self-satisfied half-smirk as he finds his place at Grayson’s side, Nimue in tow.
“Luminary?” Grayson offers her his arm. The gesture is not only a show of respect, but it’s also strategic—a suggestion courtesy of Blair Shepard, their magical counsel.
