The Axelridge Series Book 3 Marc's Stolen Heart

MARCUS

Yeah, I ran. What about it?

The fucking drive by at the moon ball rattled me good. When I got shot, it was too close for comfort. I know how these street wars go. They kill one of ours, we kill three of theirs and so on…

Now, I’ve been dragged into the middle of it. I don’t know why I’m all of a sudden a target. They never bothered with me in over 20 years. Now, they’re trying to cap me off?

This isn’t good. These aren’t your normal hood rats. These guys are cool, collected and won’t stop until your six feet under. It’s for that reason I had to get the fuck out of dodge.

After I left the ball, I stopped at my pack house in Parkdale. My Gamma, Aster, found me in my room.

“What are you doing?” He leans on the door frame and scrubs his brown bed head.

I quickly grab some clothes and throw them in a bag. “I’m splitting. There was a shooting at the ball.”

“Oh my God.” He pushes off the door and walks over to me. “Are you OK? Does this have to do with the truce?”

I pull open my suit jacket and show him the bloody hole in my shirt. “No. But I’ll live for now. Yeah, it’s the truce." I go pack to packing.

“Ok. Look. Marcus. Don’t run. We can face them. Just lay low here.” He tries to find my eyes as I move around the room.

I shake my head. I’m panicked and kicking myself because I knew one day they’d get to me. It’s totally stupid to think I could actually have a normal life. Sooner or later, the life finds you. “I can’t. If they can get to me in Axelridge, they can certainly get me here.”

I throw my bag on my shoulder.

“Where are you going?” He crosses his arms.

I glance at him as my lips fall. “Home.”

I walk out of the room.

“Marcus, no!” Aster chases me out. I hop down the stairs of my white, contemporary pack house.

Parkdale is an hour from the south east bridge and basically next door to Rochester. My dad is in Brooklyn, but he controls the shifters in almost half the state which is why I got out. Jax helped me form a pack from former mobsters. Like a refugee camp for criminals. They’re great people and will throw down at a moments notice, but I’m not telling ya to leave the silverware out, ya know what I mean?

We're a work in progress.

“Aster, it’s the only safe place for me. They won’t run a hit on my dad. It’d be suicide. I’ll hide behind him until I come up with another plan.”

The moon was a pale blue as I threw my bags in the trunk of my Audi. I want to call Jax and find out how Audrey is, but I don’t have time and I don’t think making calls is a wise thing to do. These guys can tap phones. I need to cut off everyone until this heat dies down.

It's killing me because I want to talk to Sophie so bad. I need to make sure she’s safe. The problem is I know she’d hop her bike and go on some vigilante rampage and I don’t need to be affecting her like that. It’s bad enough my life is sucking me back in. I don’t need to be making her rejoin her bad life too.

I close the trunk and get in the driver’s side. “Double the border patrols. Make everyone who enters is vetted. I’ll call in a few days.”

“Ok.” Aster says.

“I’m sorry to put this on you. I know it’s not your place. I promise. Once this is over, I’ll pick a Beta.”

He grins. “Or you could just give me a promotion.”

I smirk. “I’ll think about it.” I put the car in gear and turn around in my driveway. I drive out onto the street and toward the interstate.

I ran away from the man who tried to raise me in hell. Now, I’m walking straight into hell to beg the devil for help.

I sat on the street and stared at the white mansion in Brooklyn.

I lean on the steering wheel with my mouth on my arm as I stare at the men pacing around the front door.

The place looks just the same as when I left it. My mother’s roses still bloom out front of the white porch with white decorative pillars. The windows are floor length and black framed. You could fit at least 8 brownstones on the property and the four floors make it impressively big for Brooklyn.

My eyes move to the red brown front door.

I remember saying goodbye to my mother. She told me to have a good day at school. I told her I loved her, left and hopped the first bus to Oxford. I never saw her again. I wonder if she worried. Did she even cry? I hadn’t heard anything about them even looking for me.

I remember sitting on the couch, a broken 15 year old boy, and watched as Alpha Dupree looked at my wrist. I remember the look the Lunas face. Jax sat beside me the whole time acting like my rock.

‘Does your mother know you’re here?’

‘No and I don’t want her to.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘We'll help you, Marcus, but we need to know if your serious about wanting that help.’

I remember glancing at Jax and nodding yes.

I remember that day like it was yesterday because it was the first day I actually cried. The feeling of the Lunas arms around me, broke me something fierce. She hugged me like a Ma should have and I couldn’t take it. Everything poured out. My fear, hurt and anger. Everything. I felt like I was taking my old life and throwing it in the trash.

‘You can live with us, Marcus, but you’re going to have a normal life. School, job, the whole bit. You and Jax can room together. I agree with my son. I see a good kid. Prove him right.’

‘I will, sir.’

I feel like walking through that door will sully the names of the people who raised me, but I have no choice.

I sit up and make a cross over my chest. “I’m sorry.” I mutter to the dead and drive into the driveway.

I put on my sunglasses and adjust my black tie. I get out and close the door. Looking over the house, I do up the button of my black suit jacket and fix the collar of my black dress shirt.

My father has zero respect unless a man is in a suit for a meeting so, I’ll comply on that.

One of the men walks down the stairs and comes around the car to approach me. “Welcome, Alpha.” He says. I hand him the keys and he drives off to park. I take a deep breath and walk up the steps. The other goon opens the door and I walk in.

I slowly step into the white foyer with Italian influence in the décor. The double staircase is lined with a gold railing to the open balcony on the second floor.

I step in further and the dining hall is buzzing.

Slowly, I walk to the right and step into the door. The place is packed with Italian wolves and food. Some things will never change.

I see my parents table and it’s my brother who catches my eye.

“As I live and fucking breathe.” He grins as he slams his napkin down on his plate, gets up and strides to me.

I force a smile and watch him get in my space . “Hey, Stevie.”

“Hey, Stevie? We haven’t seen each other in 20 years and that’s all I get? Hey, Stevie. Give me a hug, fratu.” He laughs as he wraps me in a bro hug.

I hug him back quick as my eyes catch my father’s.

He stands and walks over to me. He stops, side eyes me and clears his throat. “My office…Now.” His voice was grim and deep. I look into the room and see my mother’s eyes. She shoots me a disgusted look and turns back to her Gamma. It broke my heart because it confirmed what I already knew. My own mother couldn’t care less.

“Yes, sir.” I glance at Stevie.

“We'll catch up later.” Stevie says as he claps my arm.

My father gives me the eye I know so well and heads to his office. I walk behind him like I’m on death row and my times up. My eyes glance at his boys as we walk by. They all look like they’re just itching for an excuse.

I stare at my father’s back. He’s tall, confident and proud. He knows the power he has over me. I bet he’s just loving this. His bastard son groveling at his feet. If it wasn’t for the lycans, I sure as hell wouldn’t be here.

He opens the door and walks in. “Close the door.”

I instantly start to sweat at the sound of those words. As much as I try to picture myself at his level now, I can’t help but revert back to the boy who took so many beatings behind that closed door. My heart races as I hear the door click once I was in.

My father’s fucking scary and I’m man enough to admit I’m terrified of him, but Jax gave me strength and courage. Now that he’s not here…

He walks across his dark red rug and stops at the bar. He pours a whiskey and stands with his hand in his pocket. Staring at the wall, he takes a sip. The silence is twisting my gut.

I stand in the middle of his floor with my hands clasped at my thighs. I don’t say a word, just sweat my balls off with nerves.

He turns and strides to his desk and sinks into his chair. “Why are you here?” He leans back and takes another sip.

I swallow and take a quick look around. “Ya know…I just…wanted to see Stevie and Angie. Ma too…and you.” I raise my eyes to him as he stares me down.

“Really. After 20 years. You just thought you wanted to stop by.” He leans his elbow on his chair and props his head on his fingers.

I clear my throat. “Uh, ya.” I take a few steps closer. “Well, my friend…he may have suggested I try to rebuild the bridge, ya know? I think he’s right.”

My father nods. “So this has nothing to do with the attack in Axelridge.”

“No. I'm mean, not totally. I-It made me think. That’s all.” I shrug as I take more steps to his desk.

He slowly drinks his glass and lowers it. His eye bore holes into me and I try to not show my fear.

He adjusts himself in his chair. “Tell me, Marcus. Do you take me for an idiot?”

“No.” My brows shoot up and my voice is soft. “No, sir. I do not.”

He sets his drink down and leans on his desk. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

I shake my head. “No. No, sir.”

“Good.” He leans back. “Now, tell me how you’re not here, standing in my house, as a coward.”

My brows stitch up as I lock my father’s eyes. “I-I don’t know how to answer that.”

“The truth!” He barks.

I blink to the floor, rub my nape and move to sit down. “Sure. Yeah, ok.” I sink into the chair across from him.

I lean on my knees and tap my fingertips together. “I need protection.” I release a nervous breath because if he says no, I’m on my own and I don’t know how long I can last. Celebrity bodyguards just aren’t the same as these guys.

He chews his cheek, sniffs and looks at me with superiority. He lifts his glass and drinks. “Protection…From a family you walked out on. What do you think my answer to that would be?”

I lower my head. “No.”

“Well…” He sets his glass down, turns his chair and stands. He walks around his desk to me. “As usual, Marcus. You’re wrong.”

I roll my eyes up to my father and stand. We stand face to face. “You'll protect me.”

He nods. “I will.”

He grabs my nape, delivers a gut punch and slams my head off the desk. My eyes explode as I crumple to the floor. I’m holding my head, whining out pain, on my elbows and knees.

He squats down to me and I turn my head to him. My fear is as clear as the blood on my head. “You insult this family with your presence. I will protect you, Marcus, but I won’t let you hide. If you think you’re not in, that’s a lie and I don’t like liars. As of right now, my protection is earned. Refuse, and I’ll deliver you to Vinelli myself. Are we understanding each other?” His words are dark and evil.

I have no words as my head throbs and my guts threaten to puke. All I can do is nod yes.

He stands, grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. He hands me a handkerchief. I slowly take it and wipe my head.

“You’re working for me now. Every step you take will be known by me. Know this. The only reason I decided to talk to you is because the death of a celebrity draws unnecessary attention. Attention I don’t need. So be thankful. Your life was spared by a ball.” He sits down and leans back. “Cross me like that again and I won’t be so concerned about the press.”

“Yes, sir.” I mumble and toss the handkerchief on his desk. Inside, I feel fucking sick because I’m betraying my best friend and submitting to a man who should be rotting in prison.

I am a fucking coward.