Reclaimed and Restored

What Will Be Left?

“She’s a lovely girl. It’s such a pity that her mate is an absolute waste of human life,” Marcus’s grandmother complained.

“Mhm,” Marcus hummed. Truthfully, he had no idea who his gran was talking about. He’d lost focus several sentences ago―he was too busy thinking about Ava.

When he and Silas had walked into the dining hall that morning, he’d been surprised to see her there so early, but what had stolen his attention were the dark circles under his mate’s eyes. She’d looked exhausted, and it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed it. She clearly wasn’t sleeping well, and Marcus hadn’t been able to lie to himself anymore―he was worried about her.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t died of liver failure yet with the amount he drinks.”

“Mhm.”

And dammit, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking about her art. The way she’d created a human figure on her page with just a few simple shapes and lines, all while she’d explained in her usual rush of words, was incredible. His mate was obviously talented, and he wondered- nothing, he wondered nothing, Marcus reminded himself. He needed to stay far away from Ava and her miraculously sexy mom jeans and dungarees.

“Is everything alright?” his gran asked. “Lately, you’ve sounded… not yourself.”

Marcus considered lying or at least avoiding the truth, but he couldn’t do it―not to his gran. “I found my mate, grams,” he told her. “About a month ago.”

His words were met with shocked silence until the dam broke. “You mean to tell me that I’ve been going on and on about Brianna Andrews while you’ve been sitting on that piece of information?” his grandmother screeched into the phone.

Marcus’s brows rose. So that was who she had been speaking about―Brianna, the girl he’d briefly dated in high school and hadn’t spoken to since he’d left New York. That was…strange, to say the least.

“And why am I only hearing about this now?” she asked.

“It’s complicated. Ava’s only eighteen.”

“And?” she asked as if his mate’s age were of no consequence.

“And her parents don’t exactly approve. Her dad didn’t have many nice things to say to me when they found us the morning after she’d shifted.”

“You tell that man to call me if he has anything bad to say about my grandson,” she said. “Take it from an old lady: age is just a number. If he knew you, he’d know you’re the best thing that could have ever happened to his daughter.”

Marcus flinched. “Am I?” he asked. “Her parents don’t approve, and even if they did, I can’t risk her getting close to me.”

“Why in heavens not?”

“Because of what I’m here to do,” he explained tiredly.

“Marcus,” his gran said, sounding disappointed. “You’ve been given a gift. This girl could love you if you let her.”

Marcus hung his head. “It’s not that easy, grams,” he said, repeating the same words he’d said to Ava in the training room.

His grandmother sighed. “My boy, you can’t keep pushing everyone away because of what happened to your parents. I know it’s hard, but you need to let people in because otherwise, you’re going to live the rest of your life alone.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he whispered.

“You need to try,” she told him. “I know you’re doing this for them, but your parents wouldn’t have wanted this life for you. Why did you think I was telling you about Brianna and the lousy excuse of a man she calls a mate?” she asked.

Marcus blinked. “I honestly have no idea.”

His gran sighed impatiently. “Because I thought you could rekindle an old flame. The happiest I’ve seen you was when you were with Brianna. You ended things with her after a few months, but before you did, you let your guard down around her.”

She was exaggerating slightly, but Marcus got the point. He had been a bit less guarded with Brianna, and there had been a very brief time when he’d thought it would be nice to let her in completely. But he’d pushed her away instead because he’d known he’d be leaving for Boston. His plans couldn’t include her or any other girl tagging along with him.

“Your parents would have wanted you to be happy,” his gran continued in a softer voice. “And you’re not happy, Marcus. You haven’t been in a long time, but now is your chance to change that.”

Marcus swallowed the ball of emotion in his throat. He knew what she was saying was true, but he couldn’t change just like that. His reasons for being in Boston, his pushing everyone away―it was who he was.

“Don’t let your mate slip through your fingers. I can promise you that you’ll regret it if you do.”

“I can’t give up what I came here to do, grams,” he argued. “I won’t.”

“Is that all that’s important in your life anymore? Revenge?” When he didn’t reply, she continued. They both knew the answer anyway. “Because if you let that become more important than your mate or anything else, you’ll find yourself empty and alone.”

“I’m not alone,” he said. “I have you.”

“And when I’m gone?” she asked gently. “What will you have then, my boy?”

Nothing, Marcus realized. He would have nothing.

His grandmother seemed to realize that he wouldn’t have much more to say on the subject, at least not right then, so she made her excuses and ended the call. Her words lingered long after they’d said their goodbyes, though. In his apartment, which lacked any sort of personal touches and felt starkly vacant, it was impossible to discount what she’d said. He was alone, and his life had become empty.

The unadorned white walls of his living room soon became suffocating, and when Marcus couldn’t bear it anymore, he escaped the confines of his apartment. He wasn’t sure where he was going or what he planned to do once he got there―he just needed a distraction from the bucket of cold truth that had been thrown in his face.

By the time Marcus realized he should have been going up to the third floor where he could put on some gloves and beat the s**t out of a punching bag, he had already arrived in the lobby downstairs. Before he could turn around and find his sought-after peace through some good old-fashioned aggression, he noticed that there was nobody guarding the front door as there should have been.

He paused at the bottom of the steps to take in the rest of the lobby, and that was when he saw Ava dodging punches from Ben’s mate. It was a scene so similar to what he’d brought a stop to in the dining hall the day he’d first bumped into Ava. Only this time, he wasn’t quick enough to step in. The woman landed a punch on his mate’s cheek, and Marcus saw red.