BETA's LOVER

Chapter- Twenty

MACKENZIE

"Take the next right," I murmured to Russell, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my jacket. Streetlights cast intermittent shadows across the dashboard, each flash bringing me closer to my old life.

I hadn't planned on revealing my address to Russell, but circumstances had a way of making decisions for me lately. Besides, someone with his tracking abilities would probably find it anyway.

The car rounded the corner onto my street, and my heart stuttered. There, beneath the warm glow of the street lamps, stood an achingly familiar figure outside my apartment building.

"Mackenzie!" Quinn's fingers dug into my arm. "That is Jack!" Her voice pitched higher with panic.

Russell's shoulders tensed, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he slowed the car. The predator in him responding to my sudden anxiety. "Stop here," I commanded, forcing steadiness into my voice. Having Jack see mus with a strange man radiating supernatural energy wasn't exactly how I had planned this homecoming.

Russell smoothly guided the car into an empty spot, his movements precise and controlled – too controlled for someone who was supposed to be just another human driver.

Good boy, I thought wryly. Or should I say, good wolf?

"We need to handle this carefully," I said, my mind racing through scenarios. "Russell, you should leave now. Quinn, switch to the front seat. We can't have him asking questions about things we can't explain."

I stepped out of the car, but before I could move toward the driver's side, Russell materialized beside me like a shadow taking form. His broad frame blocked my path, while his keen, wolf-like eyes scanned the surroundings.

"Should I make preparations regarding this man?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Preparations?" I scoffed, pushing past him. "Don't be ridiculous. He is our friend, " The words came out sharper than intended, my nerves making me defensive.

Quinn had already slipped into the passenger seat, barely containing her amusement at Russell's territorial display. He stood like a sentinel in enemy territory, completely out of place among the mundane cars and concrete of my suburban street.

"Alright, let's get our story straight," I began, settling behind the wheel. "We will keep it simple. We had an accident on the way to the beach, and kind locals nearby helped us out. They let us stay there until my car was repaired, and—"

A knock interrupted my planning. Russell stood at my window, his expression a mixture of determination and something else I couldn't quite read. With an exasperated sigh, I lowered the window. "What now? Go, Shoo!"I asked, already irritated. Pressed the button to roll the window up.

His hand caught the glass of the window, effortlessly holding it in place. Quinn and I gaped at this casual display of supernatural strength. I glanced around frantically, praying none of my neighbors had witnessed this little demonstration.

Pressing down the button to stop the window from going up, I glared at Russell who wore a smirk over his face.

"What the hell do you want now?" I asked, rubbing my temples.

"Miss," he drawled, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips, "Alpha's orders. I am to keep watch over you both." He produced a slip of paper, holding it out like a peace offering. "My number. For emergencies, or if you decide to return. Or if you need anything at all."

He tapped the car hood, drawing our attention back to his serious expression. "Be careful. I will be watching." His gaze flickered toward Jack. "Both of you – and him."

I rolled my eyes, nodding just to end this interaction. As I drove away, I caught glimpses of his tall figure in my rear view mirror, standing sentinel in the growing darkness.

He will be a pain in the ass. I could tell.

"Let's hope this is his first visit today," I muttered as we approached Jack. His grey eyes narrowed as he spotted us, trying to pierce through the windshield's glare. I parked beside his car, exchanging a quick glance with Quinn, who responded with an encouraging nod.

Before I could reach for my door handle, Jack was there, pulling it open with familiar ease. I stepped out, meeting his concerned gaze with what I hoped was casual nonchalance.

"Hey Jack!" Quinn chirped, materializing beside us with her characteristic ability to diffuse tension.

"Where the hell have you been?" The worry in his voice was barely masked by anger. "I have been calling you for a week straight

– both of you. Phones off, no messages, nothing. Do you have any idea what I have been thinking?"

"Haha. We were fine, dummy. Just had an incident,"Quinn let out an exaggerated yawn – convincing enough that I almost believed it myself. "We are exhausted," she said, looping her arm through his. "Come inside, and I will tell you everything." Quinn grabbed him by his arm and dragged him inside the building, he tried to chip in but he was against Quinn. I chuckled and watched as she steered him toward the building entrance, her chatter filling the night air. Some things never changed – Quinn's ability to steamroll over awkward situations was still intact, at least.

Gathering our surprisingly light bags, I followed them, trying to ignore the prickling sensation between my shoulder blades that told me Russell was still watching from somewhere in the shadows.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and I trudged down the hallway toward my apartment. As I rounded the corner, I found Quinn and Jack locked in their usual banter, hovering outside my locked door like a pair of stranded puppies.

"Seriously?" I let out an exaggerated sigh. "You could have opened the door. I have told you guys, where the spare key is." Despite my attempt at scolding them, I couldn't hide the fondness in my voice. Stretching up on my tiptoes, I reached for the wooden flower vase mounted on the wall, my fingers blindly searching inside for the familiar metal ridges of the key.

"Catch," I called out, tossing the keys in Quinn's direction. They arced through the air, glinting under the hallway lights, only to clatter against the floor as Quinn fumbled the catch.

Jack burst into laughter. "And you call yourself an athlete? All those years of training, wasted!" He clutched his sides dramatically while Quinn shot him a death glare, sticking out her tongue like a petulant child.

I leaned against the wall, watching their familiar routine with a warm smile tugging at my lips. The sight of them—Quinn's mock offense, Jack's theatrical teasing—filled my chest with a gentle ache.

I had missed this.

Opening the door, Quinn stepped in first, and Jack, insisting on helping, grabbed the bags from me before heading inside. With a sigh, I followed them, entering last.

As the door clicked shut behind me, I stepped into my apartment, letting the familiar surroundings sink in. The comforting scent of coffee lingered in the air, wrapping around me like an old friend. The hum of the refrigerator, the sound of life continuing on, filled the silence. For a brief moment, I felt the weight of the world lighten, my shoulders easing.

Home. I was home.

The soft scrape of my shoes against the floor was the only sound in the room, aside from Quinn and Jack's casual banter. I kicked off my shoes and slipped into my house slippers, moving through the apartment, my eyes tracing the familiar objects on the shelves. The cluttered mess of my life—things I loved, mementos from moments accumulated over the years. Nothing needed to change. Nothing would change.

Not because of Alistair, not because of anyone.

I walked toward the kitchen, my fingers brushing the cool granite of the countertop. I moved to the coffee maker, the quiet ritual of making my first cup of coffee easing the tightness in my chest. The hiss of the water heating and the rich smell of ground beans filled the air—simple things that grounded me. These were the things I needed. Not him.

As the coffee brewed, I glanced back at the couch where Quinn and Jack were chatting animatedly. When the coffee maker beeped, signaling that it was ready, I rose from the stool and poured three cups, setting them down in front of them before sitting beside Jack on the sofa.

"Quinn filled me in on why you disappeared. Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Jack asked, his voice thick with concern.

"I am good, Jack. Sorry I worried you," I replied, my voice sincere as I took a sip from my cup, the warmth spreading through me.

"You should be," he teased, grinning widely.

"Hah. You are so rude. You didn't even ask if I was hurt," Quinn said, narrowing her eyes and pretending to wipe away fake tears.

"I didn't need to ask. You are as healthy as an elephant," he shot back, sipping his coffee casually. Quinn gasped, and I couldn't help but chuckle. Without warning, Quinn threw a cushion at him, and suddenly, we were in the middle of a pillow fight. I took the chance to slip away before they could tackle me to the ground.

"Guys, I am ordering food. What do you want?" I called, halting them in their tracks.

Later, as Quinn went to shower, I opened my laptop, preparing to catch up on work. Jack turned in his seat to face me, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity I hadn't expected.

"How have you been?" he asked, his warm grey eyes meeting mine.

I blinked in surprise. He had just asked me that, hadn't he?

"Uh, good. What about you? How is the project going?" I replied, trying to brush it off as I powered up my laptop.

"I have been good. The project's going great. For now, just rest. I will fill you in on the details later," he said, running a hand through his black hair. It was a gesture that caught me off guard, reminding me of someone else—someone I had tried so hard to forget. Alistair. How good he looked when he ran his hand through his hair.

I blinked, realizing I was still staring at Jack. He was waving his hand in front of my face, a frown creasing his brow.

"Did you start daydreaming, Mack?" he asked, chuckling at my irritated expression.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be heading home?" I said, opening my email to check on the piles of work I still had to catch up on.

"You wound me, dear friend," Jack said with a dramatic pout. "I am waiting for the food I paid for," he added, shaking his head as I narrowed my eyes at him.

After dinner, Jack left for home, and Quinn and I tackled the dishes together before heading to bed. Quinn had decided to stay over, and I didn't mind at all. I could use the company.

"You have no groceries in the fridge. Let's go shopping tomorrow," Quinn said, turning toward me as we lay in the darkness, the quiet of the night surrounding us.

"Yes, and we need new phones, too," I added, closing my eyes.

Quinn hummed in agreement, her voice heavy with sleep.

The next day passed quickly. Quinn and I took care of everything—from buying daily necessities and groceries to getting new phones. We spent the day doing things we enjoyed. Quinn treated us to ice cream, despite the cold, until we both got brain freeze.

As for me, I visited my mom, hoping she was okay.

How was she holding up? I couldn't help but worry—was everything alright while I was gone?

With a knot of anxiety in my chest, I drove to my mom's place. As I reached the door, I tried the handle. It was locked. A wave of relief flooded me.

Finally, she listened to me. She had actually locked the door, unlike her usual habit of leaving it wide open.

Quinn rang the doorbell, and we waited. But there was no response. She looked at me with the same unease I felt.

Had she done something to herself?

I banged on the door, my knuckles hurting from the force. "Mom! Mom! Can you hear me? Open the door!" I shouted, my thoughts spiraling into dark places. Anxiety gripped me. Quinn kept ringing the bell, but then, without a word, she ran off. I stared at her in confusion. Without thinking, I followed, my heart pounding faster with each passing second. I found her standing on tiptoe, trying to look inside through the kitchen window.

"Mackenzie, lift me up, so I can get a better look," she said, her voice urgent.

Without hesitation, I scooped her up by the legs and hoisted her into the air. She knocked gently on the window, then paused, falling silent.

"What's going on, Quinn?" I asked, my voice tight with something close to dread, though I wasn't sure if it was for my mom or for myself.

"Put me down," she replied, and I gently set her back on the ground and she turned to face me. Her expression was somber, her eyes scanning the house with a look that mirrored my own unease. Without saying a word, she patted my back in gesture of reassurance.

"I don't think your mom's home," she said, her voice quiet. "All the lights are off. Even the hallway ones."

I glanced up at the house, my stomach tightening. Mom hated the dark—would never leave the hallway lights off, even if the rest of the house was dark.

Still, I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. The ring echoed in my ears, but it went straight to voicemail after the first ring. Quinn tried calling too, but got the same result. I didn't waste time thinking. I rushed to the back door and tried the handle. Locked.

That was... odd. Mom never locked the doors unless she planned to be gone a while.

"Don't worry, Mackenzie. She will turn up. Maybe she's with a friend or something," Quinn said, though her voice was shaky now, uncertain. She hesitated, then added, "Oh... I forgot. You don't really have anyone here, do you?"

I turned away from the door, barely hearing her. "I don't care where she is," I said, my voice flat. "I just need to know she's still breathing. She's my responsibility."

I dialed her number again, over and over, the phone screen starting to blur from my frustration. After the tenth call, she cut the connection. That was it—she had cut the call. No answer. No nothing. And at that moment, something inside me settled, cold and indifferent.

She's fine. Probably out at a bar, drunk and careless. Not that it matters.

I sank down onto the doorstep, my gaze locking on the dark sky. The night pressed in on me, quiet and empty. A humorless laugh slipped from my throat, sharp and empty, like glass breaking in slow motion.

She never cared about you. Why bother? The thought echoed in my mind, relentless. She never loved you. Never looked at you with anything but indifference. So why should you care?

But she's my mom, I argued with myself. She has to care.

No mom does this, my inner voice replied. No mother just abandons her child like this.

And in that moment, I agreed with that voice, feeling a tightness in my chest. I was done hoping, done waiting for something that was never going to come. The tears welled up, but I didn't let them fall—not for her. Not for someone who'd never once bothered to care when it actually mattered. Before I knew it, Quinn was beside me. She sat down on the step, wrapped her arms around me, to comfort me.

"It's going to be okay, Mackenzie," she murmured, her words soft, like she didn't believe them either.

I shook my head, a bitter smile curving my lips, but it wasn't a smile. It was empty, hollow, just like everything else.

"What was I even expecting?" I said, my voice dry, thick with disdain. "She never cared. Not once. Never gave a damn about me. So why would she care now? If I disappeared for a week, a year—she wouldn't even notice. She's too busy with her own life, too busy not being a mother." My voice cracked just slightly, and I let the emotion break through, not caring if Quinn saw it.

I stood up abruptly, a numbness spreading inside me.

I was done. I had given her enough chances. Now, I was the one walking away.

I am done, Mom. Now I am the one who is abandoning you.

Quinn went to visit her parents in another city, while I stayed at home, filling my time with cleaning, cooking, and watching documentaries—anything to keep myself busy. After a full week of rest, I finally return to work. The fluorescent lights of Crafty Decor- hummed overhead, familiar yet somehow foreign after weeks away. I slipped into my ergonomic chair, muscle memory guiding my fingers to the keyboard as I logged into her workstation. Everything was exactly as I had left it – the small potted succulent, the color-coded sticky notes, Quinn, Jacks and my photo from last Christmas.

"Welcome back, Maam!" Laura my assistant, placing a steaming cup. "Brought you your usual – vanilla latte, extra shot."

I accepted the coffee with a smile, the warmth seeping through the cardboard sleeve. For a moment, I remembered different kinds of warmth – the heat of a muscled body pressed against mine under star-strewn skies, the burning intensity of hazel eyes that seemed to see straight through to my soul. I shook my head, dispersing the memory like morning mist.

"Thank you, Laura. It is good to be back."

And it was, wasn't it? This was my world – spreadsheets, client meetings, lunch breaks at the downstairs. No morning with bunch of wolves talking and yelling at breakfast and a special breakfast made for me by Alistair- No. I wouldn't think about that. About him.

The morning passed in a blur of emails and catching up on missed projects. It was easy to lose myself in the familiar rhythm of office life, to pretend the past few weeks had been nothing more than an elaborate dream. I drown myself in work even though there was not much to do. But I kept myself busy, not wanting to give in to my inner thoughts.

Once I finished my work, I called Laura into my office. After asking about the progress, I instructed her to wrap things up and let everyone know they could leave once they were finished.

I wasn't a strict boss, but I wasn't too easygoing either.

I grabbed my coat from the chair, slipped it on, and walked out of the office. As I exhaled, I watched my breath hang in the cold air, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of daily life moving along smoothly around me.

"Good morning, Maam," The delivery guy greeted me as he walked past, wearing a leather jacket that carried a faint scent of pine and leather. In that moment, I was suddenly reminded of the day I was preparing for the party. Alistair had lent me his jacket, and I had breathed in his wild, untamed scent.

A colleague's laugh carried the same deep, rumbling quality that made my heart stutter. Closing my eyes, gosh, control yourself.

I reminded myself not to dwell on these fleeting emotions.

I strolled around aimlessly for a while enjoying the sun rays against my cold skin and then I walked in cafe nearby, feeling hungry. As I waited for my turn at the counter, my eyes wandered to a young couple sharing a sandwich on a park bench. The man tenderly brushed crumbs from the woman's cheek, and for a moment, I was transported. Alistair had touched me like that—one morning, while I was eating the breakfast he had made for me, which had become a ritual of his. I had never once complained when he insisted on making it. His cooking was good, and I secretly liked being taken care of.

He had wiped the jam from the corner of my mouth with a tenderness that contradicted his fierce nature, as if I were something precious he feared might break.

"Earth to Mackenzie!" Jack's voice broke through my thoughts. "I have been calling you for a while. You have been staring at the park for minutes without moving."

I blinked, realizing I had been staring out the shop window at the nearby park. "Sorry, just... sleepy, I guess." I mumbled, offering the first excuse that came to mind.

But it wasn't tiredness that made my chest ache, or the way each breath felt like inhaling shards of glass. It was the growing realization that I had left more behind in those mountains than just a place. Shaking my head to push away the bittersweet memories, I clung to the comfort of my structured world, with its clear boundaries and expectations.

"Go take a seat. I will bring the order," Jack said, gently pulling me back to the present before heading to the counter.

I took a seat in a booth bathed in sunlight, pinning my now longer bangs to the side. I was glad I had thought to keep bobby pins in my handbag.

"Couldn't you have picked another booth?" Jack grumbled, clearly not thrilled about sitting in the sun.

"Haha, sorry. Let's sit here." I stood up before he could complain any longer. He grinned and made his way to the seat across from me. After placing the food tray down, he pulled his laptop from his bag.

"Show me the blueprint," I said, taking a bite of my sandwich. Jack nodded, his grey eyes focused intently on the screen in front of him, fingers swiftly moving over the keyboard.

Jack had called me just before I was about to leave the office for a walk, saying he needed to discuss a few things about the project. I was grateful for the distraction and agreed immediately, suggesting we go over it during lunch. In that moment, a thought crossed my mind that eased the ache in my heart.

I was back. Back to the routine I had created for myself—back to my life.

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