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Frankie smiled to herself, glancing about the studio to where she’d painted over the graffiti on the walls within the past few days. “That’s where you’re wrong, mate.”
She wasted no more time then, moving to join his side.
She wrapped herself around him, reveling in his embrace. “When I first became packmaster, those words probably would have been true, but not long after, things changed. I came to see that the weight of the responsibility placed on my shoulders wasn’t a burden, but a gift.” She snuggled close to him, placing her head on his chest. “For a long time, I felt guilty about ever having wanted that gift to have been given to someone else. This place was a reminder of that guilt. A safeguard so I wouldn’t ever turn away from my pack, so I would remember.”
Gently, he cupped her chin in his hand, tipping her head up toward him. “And now?”
She smiled at him. “Now, it’s an acceptance, a memory of all the different parts of myself. It was even before I met you, but these days...” She cupped his face again, like she had before the first time he’d told her he loved her. “Now I don’t need it. Now I have you to remind me.”
Jace smiled at her, full and wide in a way he rarely had before. “I’ll gladly serve as that reminder every day. More, if you need it.”
Frankie stood up on her tiptoes, drawing into kiss him. Soft, loving, deep. “What’s kept you away?” she whispered against him.
“Tying up loose ends, and other business.”
She lifted a brow, pulling away only enough to look at him.
“Somehow, Damon managed to convince Headquarters to let me go, to stop hunting me. Apparently, he told them having a warrior from an ancient bloodline as an enemy wouldn’t benefit them, and continuing to search me out was a waste of resources, so it’s all the Rogue Brotherhood for me from here on out.”
Frankie huffed an amused laugh. “I’m glad for you. If that’s what you wanted.”
Though they’d have to find a way to explain the rogue brotherhood and what they stood for to the pack. But she was happy for him, really. She saw the good in him, in what he could do in his position now more than ever.
“It is.” Jace nodded. “For now. While we work to weed out the bad actors in the organization. Once we do, then and only then will I walk away.” His gaze hardened slightly, the only outward sign she could see of his pain at what the Execution Underground had become. “Damon was right. We started this. Now it’s our responsibility to finish it.”
There was an honor in that, in seeing it through to the end.
Whatever challenges he may face.
Frankie nodded, understanding in her own way. “I know a thing or two about responsibility, if you can believe it.” She grinned.
“And I’ve been thinking about that over the past few days, about you too,” Jace’s eyes glimmered with something that looked dangerously like hope, “about what claiming me as your mate meant for you, what you and your pack had to sacrifice, and Frankie, I have to be honest, I don’t want that for you.”
“Jace—” She started to protest, but he placed a single finger to her lips.
“Shhh, mate. Let me finish.”
She smiled, then playfully bit his finger, sucking it into her mouth.
A low growl tore through him, and his arousal pushed against her belly in an instant.
“If you shush me again, it’ll be more than me who tears into you,” she teased, nipping at his neck now. “The pack won’t stand for it. But go on, my mate.”
Jace’s grin as he looked at her was pure rogue it was so wicked. “I think you’ll find they’ll be more protective of me than you think once you give them this.” He stepped away from her momentarily, only long enough to remove a folded paper document from his pocket.
“What’s this?” Frankie lifted a brow.
“Another gift,” Jace’s smiled broadened. “One of the conditions I asked Damon and the others to negotiate before they agreed to return to the Execution Underground.”
She unrolled the paper, reading the header at the top and stared at it. It read:
The North American Independent Pack Agreement.
“I made a few calls. Might owe a few favors to some friends out west who had contact with the Grey Wolves to see how it was done.”
Frankie stared down at the paper, wanting, but unable to read the fine print from the tears welling in her eyes. She could hardly breathe. “What does this mean?”
Jace cast her that familiar wry grin. “This means that the Execution Underground, and by clandestine association, the U.S government, will now recognize independent packs like yours, as fully separate entities from larger packs like the Grey Wolves, among others. You don’t have to strike any sort of deal with Amarok that you don’t want to. Not on my watch.”
