A/N: Surprise, I didn't think I'd finish this, but here we are. This is probably more of a mellow chapter, but let me tell you that I've planned ahead up to about chapter 59, and boy oh boy do things get interesting, hehe. I think this filler will help with the angst and stresses of chapters 52 on. Ch 51 is fairly cute and fluffy, let me tell you. Anyways, enough of spoilers, because watch I have to rewrite my plans for chapters later LOL. For people wondering, and aren't following, this book will probably be about 62-65 chapters based on what I've planned, and will include an epilogue and potential deleted scenes :) I know this book is long and there's people who plan to read the whole thing when completed.  Sorry for my rant. Enjoy, let me know what you think and all that! Comments, votes, follows appreciated <3

Chapter 48

Vince's POV

Dear Simon,

Where should I begin?

No. I scratched it out.

Dear Simon,

You should hate me. You really should, if you don't already.

Nope. I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Dear Simon,

I'm sorry. UGH.

Dear Simon,

I know sorry probably doesn't mean anything, no, it definitely doesn't mean anything. FUCK.

I crumpled another piece of paper, and threw it haphazardly across the room, missing the overfilled wastebasket. Why was this so hard when I could write hundreds of reports and meeting notes like nobody's business? Why couldn't I just say it?

Chase had made it sound so easy, a simple letter. But this was worse. Just a page of words, but it would take dredging up some of the darkest fears, the painful memories that I didn't want to relive, things that I convinced myself were better unsaid. Feelings I had pushed down to the most hidden of recesses.

I tried typing it out, hand-writing it, but I just couldn't get the words right. I mean, what was I supposed to say to make it sound less of an excuse and more like a legitimate reason. Would my reasoning even be enough at this point?

I knew it wouldn't, but this was more than just that. More than justification, it was what he deserved. Those missing pieces, the clues to the whole giant mess of a picture we painted. The one I so destroyed.

Even if it ruined everything, at least it would be something I had done for him. Something he wanted.

So I focused all of my energy staring at the empty pages, other scrawled out sentences scattered on the desk, hoping something would conjure onto the page.

I managed to write Dear Simon a few more times, leaving space so I could figure out the damn first sentence, knowing I needed to make sure it sounded genuine enough, but before I could put even a single word, the door opened, nearly giving me a damn heart attack.

Thinking it was Simon, I scrambled to crumple the pages, when I realized it had been Michael.

"Love letters?" He joked with a smirk. He took long strides, walking towards my seat, looking at the crumpled paper balls everywhere.

"What do you want?"

"Well, someone's in a sour mood," he commented before leaning against the bookshelf in front of me. I rolled my eyes at him. "Simon told me you had to up your dose."

I frowned. Of course, they've been talking. "Yeah, apparently wolves have limits too when it comes to weaning off things."

"Well, I could've told you that," he mocked. "It sounded quite dreadful. Must've been painful."

I pursed my lips before shooting back, "yeah, don't recommend it."

"But your wolf is back," he replied cheerfully. "That's good to hear."

I hummed, still trying to figure out why the hell he was here.

He cleared his throat. "I heard your wolf nearly hurt him."

"Di-did Simon tell you that?"

"No," he chuffed. "Chase told me. He walked in and thought he was about to break his arm with the way he was gripping it."

"Oh," I frowned. Simon said he hadn't been hurt. Surely, he wouldn't have lied about that, right?

Michael didn't say anything at first, glancing around the room a bit before finally saying, "you never were good at controlling your wolf though. You and father both."

I bit my lip, looking at him confusedly. He pulled out some files from the shelf, before continuing, "for most, our wolves are always co-conscious, always present side by side. But even as a kid it was like either you or your wolf fighting for control. You were never in sync, never in balance with each other. And father was the worst. Once his wolf was present, there was no way of getting him to stop. It didn't help that his temper was the absolute worst."

Chase had brought it up before I started the pills, the imbalance. We had argued about it for nearly two hours, as I insisted the pills would help with it. He said it would backfire in the end, and looking back on it now, he had been right all along.

Michael set the file down before pointing at one of the crumpled papers. "Enough about that, that doesn't look to be like the files I've sent you."

"It's not."

He huffed before peering squinting his eyes to read it. "Dear Simon? A letter?"

I didn't want to say anything, but he already saw it. "An apology."

"I never thought I lived to see the day I'd see my baby brother write a letter." He scoffed, before leaning over the desk. "An apology, no less? Is this a simulation?"

I glared at him. "I'm not a baby brother."

"Oh, shut it. You and Xavier both will forever be my kid brothers."

He rolled his eyes before grinning down at me. "But, seriously, a letter?"

I hummed, mildly offended at his reaction.

"These things are better done in person, in my opinion." He took the paper in his hand. "Your apology letter will probably need to be ten pages long, my dear brother."

I snatched it from his hands before muttering, "I'm aware."

He shook his head, still in disbelief before returning to peruse the bookshelves.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Michael frowned, picking up our parent's photo on the shelf. "Nobody found out who killed him. Father."

"Probably a rogue."

He hummed, as he strolled around the council room. "Probably. But there's a strange hiccup about that theory."

"What is it?" I watched him as he picked up another family photo, one with everyone in it. It was when we were younger before David ever was Michael's mate. We looked happier, not a total mess a few years after this photo was taken.

"Notice anything?" He pointed at the picture, his finger pointing at the arm draped around Xavier's shoulder. "Father never took it off."

I looked at the photo closely, until I saw that familiar red gem on his finger. "His ring? What about it?"

"I looked at the reports," he tapped the manila folders. "It wasn't on him when they found him."

"So, you're saying-"

"Whoever killed him, must have his ring," he finished. I had noted it as well when we first looked at the evidence. At the time it didn't seem like a red flag, considering my parents would fight all the time. And with how he ended up, I assumed it was possible it had gotten lost in the struggle. "Don't you find that strange though? What would a rogue want with a wedding ring?"

"Money?"

"Unlikely," he replied. "It couldn't have been worth much. Not to warrant death or war over. No, I think this was personal."

"Father had a lot of enemies," I frowned. "It could be anybody."

He smirked, before gesturing to the stack of papers I had yet to complete. "Why do you think I asked you to compile that list and screen them?"

"For all we know, they could've died already."

He shrugged. "True, but somebody's got to know something. You wouldn't just kill someone that powerful and not boast about it."

"Why now though?" I tilted my head, still eyeing him warily. We hadn't been this civil in years. "Dad's case has been cold for years. Even if we managed to find his killer, what would that do?"

"Well for starters," he dragged on, pushing the happy family photo closer to my hand. "It would make mom happy to know we've caught them, that she could die knowing there was justice for the old man."

"They fought in the end, you know?" I frowned looking at the photo. Mom hadn't been that happy in a long time.

"That doesn't mean she didn't love him."

For sure, there were times they'd kiss in front of us, father latching onto her neck, but I wasn't sure if you could call that love. They rarely held hands, mom had even pushed him away when he got too pushy. Other times, she'd argue and father would grip her arm just too harshly. Looking back on it, I wondered if she ever really did feel connected to him, given they never had that bond in the first place. But she must've cared somewhat after all we had to confirm the body. After all, she had lost Michael when he got kicked out, and Xavier was still young. She had to look after both of us on her own while her mind and wolf started to shut down.

"I'd think it would ease your worries as well," Michael continued. "George and the rest of those old-timers won't stop accusing Simon, no matter what you or I say. We find whoever owns the ring, and we can still turn things around. Have them punished and we could finally get George to shut his stupid mouth."

I scoffed at that. Getting George to shut up was like trying to silence an aggressive chihuahua.

"And if this killer is a pack member?"

"Well, then they'd have three angry sons, the council, and a reckoning to watch out for."

I glanced back at the photo, wondering if this would make us happy again. Knowing who had started this mess had been dealt with. It wouldn't bring him back, wouldn't undo the damage he or any of us had caused. But I guess this was a piece of the puzzle Simon had eluded too. The missing piece that would help paint the picture that would prove for once and all that it hadn't been Simon's father. The closure we all needed.

I looked up at Michael. "So, where do we begin?"

"I'll investigate our members, in the meantime, finish that stack." He grabbed father's case file, before jeering at the stack. "I'll look into the file and evidence, but my money's on a rogue father who he made enemies with."

I hummed. I didn't trust Michael one bit when it came to a lot of things, but this would at least keep him away from Simon. Or at least George away from Simon and when this was all over, I could focus strictly on the letter without having to worry about George's stupid arse coming after him again.

Especially after the latest string of nightmares, keeping Simon away from Michael had been a top priority. No matter what Simon thought, there was no way I would willingly leave the two together, especially when I had no clue what Michael had up his sleeve.

Luckily Simon and Xavier had come into the council room, putting an end to the unusually friendly conversation between Michael.

"Simon," Michael greeted. "Nice to see you, dear. But I must be going now. Xavier."

"Oh," Simon looked back and forth incredulously between us as Michael headed towards the door. He ruffled Xavier's hair before stepping out. Xavier smoothed it back disgruntledly. I slid the trashed letters under the folders as the two stepped closer.

Simon said softly, "you're getting along now?"

"Not really," I responded, watching Xavier warily. He didn't seem as upset as the other day in the hospital, but I could tell he was trying to avoid looking at me directly. "I still don't trust him."

Simon made a face. "Let's not argue about that again."

I nodded, before glancing between the two of them. "What brings you two here?"

Simon nudged Xavier, looking at him expectantly. Xavier pouted before giving me an indifferent look. "I'm still mad."

He huffed, but Simon nudged his arm again. Xavier stalled before mumbling, "I don't know how long I'll still be mad, but...but I lied."

I blinked, waiting for an explanation. I could tell he was nervous, with the way he gnawed on his bottom lip, the way he crossed his legs together whenever he felt uneasy.

"You're still my brother," he elaborated. "And yo-you didn't know...so-"

Simon squeezed Xavier's hand at his side, looking at him patiently. Xavier gulped before saying softly. "So, I don't hate you."

It was like an invisible weight lifting off both of our shoulders. It was a relief to hear that, and it appears to be the same in his case. Xavier was never one for holding grudges, and it didn't dawn on me how torn up he'd be about this.

"Thanks," I muttered, not even sure if that was appropriate.

He pouted before looking at me with one of his goofy faces. "You're still annoying. And you still drive me crazy. And I'm still mad. And don't think that I'm going to do all of your silly tasks anymore."

"I know," I said. "I got you."

Next to him, Simon was smiling at the interaction, almost lost in thought before blinking out of it. He cleared his throat. "There was something else we came here for, actually."

"Right," my brother seemed to remember. "I think it'd be nice to join us. To see mom."

"Mom?" I frowned.

"Xavier told me you hadn't seen her in a while," Simon explained. "We thought it'd be nice to see her together."

In actuality, I hadn't seen her in years. Xavier had been the one to visit her often, and ever since she was considered hospice, I never saw it in me to visit her. The last time I had seen her was goddess knows how long. And we didn't particularly end on a good note.

"I don't know about that."

"She misses you," Xavier said firmly.

I scoffed. "I doubt that."

Simon looked at me with a sad gleam in his eyes. "She's your mother."

"Look, I don't know," I shrugged. "I don't think-"

"Vince," Xavier pursed his lips. "Please. She's deteriorating faster. I don't know how long she'll last. I can't keep making excuses as to why you haven't visited."

Xavier was always attached to mom growing up, more than me, and Michael combined. After all, he wasn't forced into training like we were. Of course, he learned the basics, but he spent most days doing normal kid things with mom. Even after all these years, I was certain he was mom's favorite. Knowing she was dying was obviously a heavy subject that I knew Xavier struggled with. But honestly, I don't think she really cared about Michael and me, especially after what I had done, and with the way our last argument ended.

"And Michael?" I frowned. I had already gotten my dose of speaking to him today, I didn't want to have to deal with him and our mother in the same room. "Did you invite him too?"

"He's already visited her. She wants to see you," Xavier explained.

Simon squeezed my wrist in his hand, looking at me with doe-like eyes. "Please."

Damn, seeing those pleading eyes stirred up this weird feeling. Even my wolf was begging to listen to him in the back of my mind.

"Fine," I told them. "I'll go."