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26

SPENCER MURDOCK

After Jackson fell asleep I shifted my way out of his hold and off his bed. I made my way to Cayden's mirror and looked at my reflection. As I examined myself tears started to form in my eyes.

I'm only human, how can I help Jackson lead the pack? I can't even protect myself against the supernatural, I remember how much I struggled in Derek's arms when he was just holding me. I couldn't imagine what would happen if he tried to hurt me. I can't be the person his pack wants me to be. What if they reject me?

Before the tears could even drop, I closed my eyes and spun around. I didn't need to be thinking about this. I'm going to do fine and it's all about Jackson, not me.

I walk out of the room to see Diego and Camilla talking with Jackson's mother. Claire is sitting on the counter rapidly writing on a piece of paper. She seems angry, her jaw clenches, and her knuckles turn white with each word she writes. Out of curiosity, I walk up to her. She looks at me with her big brown eyes and her long blond hair in a loose messy bun.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I tell her and she shakes her head at me.

"We are going to get the bastards who killed my dad," Claire growls. "Even if I have to write to the council myself. Those assholes aren't gonna do anything? Well, I'll show them."

Claire hasn't even been introduced to me, it was a shame that this is the first time we meet. Her dad's passing has really ignited anger in her. I didn't blame her, after my mom died I could see how angry my dad was about it. He was so obsessed with his hate that he abandoned his responsibility to me just to pursue it. The only reason I knew my dad still cared for me was that he took time out of his day to help me train in boxing. It started out as a way to defend myself but I grew to like it. Although I haven't had any matches since the school year started, I was planning on returning in the summer. This was the time I could spend with my dad without his work getting involved. 

Looking at Claire hastily writing the letter, I groan and turned around to the large spacious living room. The white couches that sucked you looked cozy but not as cozy as Jackson's hold. I could stay in his warm arms forever and ever. If we could just forget the rest of the world and abandon our responsibilities to live in a homey beach house for the rest of our lives... I would.  It would be heaven to do so but quite impossible.

The people here need him even if I don't want to admit it. The members of his pack are going to look up to him for the next actions and the rest of the pack is going to have certain expectations from him. His father built a reputation that Jackson must uphold. He can't just back away from all of that. 

"I'll do it." I heard a small confident voice say behind me. I turn to see Camilla in the arms of her brother with the saddest look of despair anyone has ever seen. The expression shamelessly graces her tan beautiful complexion. 

"Do what?" I asked hesitantly.

"Talk to Derek." She mutters, immediately my gaze turns to Diego who doesn't say anything. "Someone needs to find justice for the alpha's murder."

"I'll let Jackson know once he's up," I tell her walking closer with each admiring word. "Thank you," I say sincerely pulling her in for a tight loving hug. She wraps her unnaturally strong arms around my body and sinks into the desperate embrace.

___

Sitting at Cayden's desk in his room typing on my Macbook, I guide my cursor to the Google search box. Typing in various words for minutes on end I finally found what I was looking for.

Charolette O'Haire.

Born August 25, 1818. 

There wasn't much information on her, just a sketch of what she looked like. Not even the picture Derek had in his possession. But the simple sketch looked much like me just like the picture did. Charlotte was my very great grandmother, I had a gut feeling. But why does she look also much like me?  Almost like a twin.

Before I dug much deeper, I heard a deep groan before me. I turned to the bed and smiled as Jackson woke up from his deep slumber. His hair looked pretty messed up and he gained bags under his eyes which were red from irritation. His bandages were very visible and looked stiff underneath his clothing.

"How long was I out?" He asked in a groggy voice.

"All day," I informed him. Closing my laptop, I slowly swept to him, sitting by his side.

"I need you to promise me something," I whispered slowly and unsurely, his pretty features turn into confusion.

"What's up?"

"Promise that you won't act irrationally and irresponsibly. You will wait to heal before doing anything."

He looked at me worried but I kept my neutral stare. "Okay. I promise." He promised. I was going to expect that he keep it. 



Claire update. She's not doing well.

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