Chapter 9
980words
By dawn, I've made a decision. There's only one person who might understand what I'm going through.
The drive to my grandmother's house takes forty minutes, winding through the oldest part of Moonhaven territory. Unlike my small cottage, Grandma Eliza's home is a sprawling farmhouse that's housed Blackwood women for generations.
She's in the garden when I arrive, her silver hair gleaming in the morning light. Despite being in her seventies, she moves with the grace of a wolf half her age.
"Lucille," she says, straightening as I approach. Her smile fades when she sees my face. "What's happened?"
I collapse into her arms, the tears I've been holding back since last night finally breaking free. "I found him, Grandma," I sob against her shoulder. "I found my mate."
She stiffens, then holds me tighter. "Oh, my sweet girl. Come inside."
Grandma's kitchen is warm and smells of herbs—some for cooking, others for the remedies she's famous for throughout the pack. She sits me at the worn oak table and places a steaming mug of tea in front of me.
"Tell me everything," she says, settling across from me.
So I do. I tell her about the party, about feeling that first electric connection when I caught Ivan's scent. About the border incident and his declaration. About Damon and the West Coast opportunity that suddenly seems like my only escape.
Grandma listens without interrupting, her weathered hands wrapped around her own mug, her eyes—the same golden brown as mine—filled with understanding and sorrow.
"And now I don't know what to do," I finish, wiping away fresh tears. "If I accept Ivan, I'm accepting death. If I run away with Damon, I'm living a lie and probably breaking his heart in the process."
"The curse has taken so much from our family," Grandma says softly. "Your mother, your aunt... my Thomas." Her voice catches on her mate's name, even after thirty years.
"Is there no way to break it?" I ask, the question I've asked a hundred times before.
Grandma sighs. "I've spent decades searching, Lucille. Old texts, other packs with knowledge of such things, even human witches. I've found hints, fragments, but nothing concrete."
"So I'm doomed either way."
"I haven't given up," she says firmly. "And neither should you. I'll redouble my efforts, reach out to contacts I haven't spoken to in years."
Hope flickers briefly, then dies. "Even if there is a way, how would I explain it to Ivan? 'By the way, if we mate, I'll die in ten years and take you with me'?"
"You can't tell him," Grandma says, alarm flashing in her eyes. "Or anyone else. The curse is Blackwood business, passed from mother to daughter. If others knew..."
"They might use it against us," I finish. It's what she's always taught me—that our vulnerability must remain secret.
"Not just that," she says, her voice dropping. "There are those who believe curses can be... transferred. If someone wanted to save themselves or a loved one from their own fate..."
I shudder at the implication. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."
Grandma reaches across the table, taking my hand in hers. "I'm so sorry, my darling. I had hoped the curse would end with my generation."
"It's not your fault," I say, though the weight of our family legacy has never felt heavier.
"What will you do about Damon?" she asks gently.
I stare into my tea, now cold. "I don't know. I can't keep seeing him knowing what I know. It's not fair to him."
"And this Ivan? Your mate?"
My wolf stirs at his name, hopeful despite everything. "I can't be with him either. Not with the curse."
Grandma squeezes my hand. "Whatever you decide, I'm here for you. Always."
---
I spend the next few days in a fog, going through the motions at work while my mind circles endlessly around my impossible situation. I've been avoiding Damon's calls, sending brief texts about being busy or not feeling well.
On the fourth day, he shows up at the clinic just as I'm finishing my shift.
"Luci," he says, his face a mixture of concern and hurt. "What's going on? Did I do something wrong?"
The sight of him—handsome, kind, worried about me—makes guilt twist in my stomach. "No," I say quickly. "It's not you. I've just been... dealing with some personal stuff."
"Let me help," he says, stepping closer. "Whatever it is, we can figure it out together."
If only it were that simple.
"I need some space right now," I tell him, hating the pain that flashes across his face. "I'm sorry, Damon. I just... I have things I need to work through on my own."
"Is this about Ivan?" he asks suddenly.
I freeze. "What?"
"After he drove you home that night, you've been different." Damon's eyes search mine. "Did he say something to you? Did he threaten you?"
"No," I say truthfully. "Nothing like that."
Damon studies me for a long moment. "I don't understand what's happening, Luci, but I respect your need for space." He takes my hand gently. "Just know that I'm here when you're ready to talk. And if you need help—any kind of help—you can come to me."
His words, so similar to Ivan's, make my eyes sting with tears.
"Thank you," I whisper.
He kisses my forehead softly. "For what it's worth, I trust Ivan with my life. Whatever is going on between you two, I know he wouldn't hurt you intentionally. He's a good man, Luci. The best Alpha I've ever served."
If only he knew the truth—that it's not Ivan who would hurt me, but fate itself.
