The proud papa put his daughter in Abby’s arms, and she practically melted on her feet. “You named her Mercedes, right?” she whispered, obviously afraid to wake the infant.
He nodded. “Manx didn’t want to, but I insisted she be named after her mother.” He ran one rough finger gently down his sleeping daughter’s cheek, love for his family stamped all over his face.
Owen was a lucky, lucky man. Manx was the first tabby in history, as far as I knew, who hadn’t married an Alpha. She’d fallen in love with his gentle spirit and honest affection almost from the moment they’d met, and if not for him, she might never have overcome the trauma and grief that had brought her into the South-Central Territory from the war-ravaged Prides in South America.
Owen shrugged and smiled at Abby. “But Parker started calling her Sadie, and it stuck.”
“Stuck!” the two-year-old in question echoed, and I glanced through the open doorway to find him curled up on the bed with his mother. He looked just like the pictures Owen sent out periodically. Tall for his age and gangly, like his father.
Manx waved at me over the top of the Spanish-language storybook she was trying to read to their middle child. They’d named him after Parker Pierce, the only South-Central Territory enforcer who’d died in the fight against my stepfather.
“Full house tonight,” I said, watching Manx with her son. It was great to see her happy after all the tragedy that had preceded her acceptance into the Pride.
Owen laughed. “Yeah, we came up to watch the kids during the council meeting, but I’m starting to wonder if we don’t create more chaos than we cure,” he said as Des and Logan tore past us down the hall in matching superhero capes. Owen and Manx had built a house of their own on the other side of the property the year they were expecting Parker. That kept the kids close to their extended family, yet gave everyone some much-needed space and privacy.
“We should all be so lucky.”
Owen’s happiness was like a light shining just beneath his skin, casting its warm glow on everyone he came into contact with. He was perfectly content managing the ranch for his mother and raising his family, and I’d never in my life seen an existence fit a man so well.
“Hey, Ab—” Brian began, but the last half of her name was cut off by a shout from the office.
“Jace! Abby!” Rick Wade’s voice boomed down the hall, startling baby Sadie awake. She began to fuss and Abby reluctantly handed her over to her father as we were summoned to the meeting. “We’re about to get started in here!”
“She’s beautiful, Owe,” I said, as Owen took his daughter back. Then I gestured for Abby to lead the way toward the office, conveniently cutting Brian off before he could finish his sentence.
I could feel him glaring at my back all the way down the hall, and if he’d had the balls to call me out, I might have thrown my support behind his engagement to Abby.
Maybe.
But he didn’t say one damn word.
THREE
Jace
I stepped back to let Abby head into the office first, and from the hallway, my eyes confirmed what my ears and nose had already told me—that several of my fellow Alphas hadn’t shown up.
That was no surprise. The rogue was killing in my territory, which meant he was ultimately my responsibility. Those who’d supported my stepfather in the war would rather sit this meeting out so that if anything went wrong, they could legitimately blame me and my allies.
My least favorite part of leadership was the politics. Which was why Abby’s choice of college major baffled me.
I stood back while she accepted hugs and greetings from Jerald Pierce, Ed Taylor, and Umberto Di Carlo, Alphas of the Plains, Midwest, and Southeast Prides, respectively. Faythe sat behind her desk at the back of the room, trying to tune everyone else out while she spoke on the phone, but she looked up when I stepped through the doorway. I could tell from the tension in her frame that she’d known the moment I walked into the house.
She’d probably heard my car before it had even turned into the driveway.
Faythe’s green-eyed gaze met mine and I froze, bracing myself for the flood of conflicting emotions that had engulfed me every time I’d ever looked at her. Every time she’d ever looked at me.
Love. Lust. Jealousy. Frustration. I expected the entire toxic cocktail, and I was prepared to hide my pain behind the professional mask I’d been wearing for years. But instead of a flood of emotion, I got just a trickle. A mere echo of what I’d once felt and had long ago been forced to let go of.
My history with Faythe was now the rainy-day ache of an old wound.
I could live with an ache.