Forcing myself to put on a burst of speed, though I’m not sure where I found the energy, I rounded the corner of the house and skidded into the front yard. Despite the indications of trouble I’d heard while still in the backyard, I was completely caught off guard by the chaos playing out in front of me. It was even worse than I had imagined just a moment ago.
The few wolves who remained had all shifted, surrounding my father. I stared at him, mouth agape with horror as he stood, still in his defenseless human form, resting heavily on his cane, as the coyote pack circled, looking for some kind of opening. Whatever was wrong with my father meant that he could no longer shift, and I knew it. That was the scariest part of what was happening. He couldn’t defend himself.
“Daddy, no!” I screamed, unable to stop myself.
Though I’m not sure what I expected him to do. Or not to do. It’s not like he had decided to take on a whole coyote pack when we were outnumbered. He hadn’t been looking for a fight tonight. But neither could he run to the house and lock himself inside. He was completely surrounded. The coyotes weren’t about to let him get away now that they had him cornered.
Had they realized how weak my father was all along? But how could they have known? Yet, it seemed they did have knowledge that they never should have had access to—like how Ethan had sneaked onto my father’s hunting property past our security perimeter the other day.
Had the coyote pack returned here to ambush my father after most of our pack was gone? Or had they never left? Even as they walked out of the barn, had it always been their intention to lie in wait for my father and take him out, rather than giving him an opportunity to change his mind? I mean, sure, my father would never have agreed to marry me off the the coyote Alpha, but they didn’t know that.
Not an hour ago, they had been sharing a meal with us, eating our food, acting as though they thought they could have ever actually come to some sort of mutually agreed solution with us. And all the while, they had been planning this. Their duplicity sickened me. I knew—knew—we couldn’t trust them. But we’d had to play nice with them. And look where it had gotten us.
Well, that was at an end.
Suddenly, the coyotes started moving in… for the kill? Panic took over and I forced my already-exhausted body to shift. I didn’t give a damn about the pain of the shift. Or if any of the neighbors saw me. Screw them. I only had one thought pounding through my mind, and that was that I had to protect my father. I knew, too late, that shifting while I was already this exhausted would have consequences, but I didn't care.
The pain didn’t matter. My weakness didn’t matter. The fact that any mistake or slip I made might prove fatal to me—none of that mattered. The only thing in the world that mattered to me in that moment was Dad's safety.
I lunged toward the circling coyotes, a growl erupting from deep inside my chest. The coyote closest to me spun around at the sound, head low and ears pinned back as he shot a warning growl at me in return. But I didn’t back off. I had the advantage of size over him. And I had much more at stake.
Whatever these coyotes wanted, whatever they hoped to gain by this attack—whether territory or something else—it couldn’t mean as much to them as my father meant to me.
I lunged again, jaws snapping as I forced him back toward his circling cronies. I might have been tired, but I was bigger and my jaws were far from lacking in strength. If I grabbed him just right, I could crush his skull between my teeth. Of course, there were easier ways to kill him, and I intended to show him that very soon.
He tried to lunge toward me again, and when he did, I saw a golden blur flash forward as Brandon sank his teeth into the coyote's haunches. The coyote threw his head back, yelping with pain, and I lunged for his throat. In a blind rage, I clamped my jaws around his jugular and shook my head, slinging his lean, wiry body from side to side as my teeth ripped open the fur and flesh at his throat. Though he wasn’t dead yet, I knew it wouldn’t be long.
One down. So that meant there were twelve more left. Twelve more in need of killing.
I flung him aside and turned on another of the coyotes, too angry to realize that Brandon had inadvertently given the other coyotes the opening they were looking for when he rushed forward to protect me instead of staying by the other wolves to help them protect our Alpha. I bit into the closest coyote's shoulder, determined to rend flesh from bone in order to get to my father. I heard his startled cry too late. I let go of my opponent and spun around, frozen in horror as a jet-black coyote clamped its jaws around my father's all-too-vulnerable throat. I had no doubt it was Maddox Hale.
I’d known better than to trust that coyote, or any other. Why had I allowed my father to convince me that we needed to hear them out, instead of just eradicating them immediately like the vermin they were?
A howl of pure agony tore from me. While I was focused solely on my father, the coyote I'd been attacking before sunk his teeth into one of my hind legs. I yelped, and Brandon leapt on my assailant without mercy. I left him to kill the coyote—and any others that he could get a hold of.
I limped forward as quickly as I could, uncaring of the pain or the blood flowing from my wounds, as I rushed to my father's side, while Brandon, Charlie, and Holden drove off the remaining coyotes.
I sank my teeth into the haunches of the black one, tearing at him with everything I had in me when he tried to race past me. I let go, intent on going for his throat, and he scrambled away from me, whining and limping as he went. But I knew the coyotes were not retreating in complete defeat.
They’d gotten what they were after.
I turned back to my father, howling with horror as I saw him struggling to breathe around the bloody tears in his throat, that had been left behind by the coyote's vicious bite. Blood soaked into the grass beneath him where he lay. I knew in that horrible moment that there was nothing I could do for him, even if I had been in my human form. It would have been impossible to staunch that kind of blood loss.
I laid my head on his chest, whimpering as he stroked my fur with a feeble, shaking hand. Howl after howl tore from me as I lay curled up beside my dying father, too exhausted and wounded to shift back and tell him everything I needed to tell him before he passed away.
I stared deep into his eyes, silently begging him to hear my thoughts, to understand how sorry I was. Daddy, please don’t leave me. I love you so much.
I should have realized sooner that any mistake I made might prove fatal not to me, but to my father. I hadn’t cared about myself. But I should have thought of the consequences to him. And I hadn’t.
I’d been so convinced that I could help protect him. But if Brandon hadn’t been busy trying to watch my back, would things have turned out different? Would our pack have been able to fight off the coyotes before it was too late? Would my father not be lying on the cold ground bleeding out right now? Was I nothing more than the princess Charlie had always called me? And had that fact, and my arrogant belief that he was wrong about me, ended up costing my father his life?
His hands fisted in the fur on the scruff of my neck and he held me close, every wet, gurgling breath a direct stab deep in my heart. Was this all my fault? Pain and guilt swelled within me, engulfing all the rational thoughts I had left, as I watched the last vestiges of life seep out of my father’s eyes.
Chapter 7
I stared at my father’s ebony coffin while our pastor read the graveside sermon he’d prepared. The gentle droning of his voice buzzed in my ears, but I couldn’t make my brain comprehend his words.
I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that what he was saying was supposed to be comforting. His tone should have sounded soothing. But it wasn't. I was numb, with nothing but an empty void inside. As though my heart had been ripped from my chest. Yet, there was no pain. I kept expecting it to hit me, but my emotions felt encased in a thick layer of ice, unable to touch me.
All I could feel was the late summer heat radiating off the ground and the slabs marking
nearby graves. The late afternoon sun glared off anything and everything that wasn't sheltered by the funeral home's small tent.
"...though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." The preacher's voice pierced the rage-induced fog numbing my brain, but only for a moment.
The only comfort I wanted was the Old Testament kind—an eye for an eye.
"Amen." Everyone murmured in unison. Everyone but me.
I realized the service was over. And I hadn’t even noticed. They say that funerals are for those left behind, not the one who’s gone, but I wouldn’t be able to grieve for my father—couldn’t allow myself to grieve for him—until he had been avenged.
The only prayer I'm gonna be praying is one to lay my father's soul to rest after I put down that piece of shit who killed him, I thought.
Brandon reached over to give my hand a reassuring squeeze, but I pulled away from his touch. I wasn't interested in comfort from anyone, but especially not him. I leaned away and had to stifle a shaky gasp as I accidentally brushed shoulders with Charlie. Heat zinged out from the point where my bare shoulder brushed against his charcoal gray suit jacket.
I straightened up, my shoulders stiff, and continued to stare at Daddy's coffin. Now so was not the time to give in to my unwanted attraction to the pack’s Beta. Or was Charlie our Alpha now?
There was no way I could step into my father’s shoes. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I didn’t want to watch as someone else did it, either. Not like I have a choice, though. The pack needed a leader. Especially with what had happened to my father. We needed a strong Alpha. We couldn’t allow the coyotes an opening to savage us any more than they already had.
One by one, every member of the pack stepped up and placed a white rose on the lid of my dad’s coffin. When my turn came around, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to do it. Charlie took my hand without hesitation, without asking permission, and helped me to my feet. I paused just a moment to make eye contact with him, hoping he could sense my gratitude because I couldn't voice it. A solid lump of emotion had suddenly swelled my throat shut.
I wobbled forward on unsteady legs like a broken thrift store marionette, squeezing my rose's stem and glad the thorns were still there. Glad they were digging into my flesh, tearing through my skin, making something about this nightmare feel real. The pain and blood were the only things that made me feel anything at all. I gripped the rose tighter and my hand shook as I raised it to place the flower on the coffin. Blood welled up and slithered down my arm, blazing a hot, red line that dripped off my elbow. I hadn’t realized I had caused myself quite so much damage, but I looked at the evidence of it almost dispassionately.
I heard Brandon's stifled gasp and had to fight the urge to turn and sneer at him. I blame you almost as much as I blame myself, the beast inside me growled. Maybe that wasn’t fair to him, but if he had only taken my training more seriously… if he had only protected my father in the yard that day rather than coming to my defense… If only. Then we would not be standing here today.
Or maybe the pack would be here for my funeral instead. I would have gladly traded my life for my father’s.
The pastor took a half-step forward, reaching for the rose. I snatched it away, clutching it to my chest as blood continued to drip off my elbow and splash onto the gaudy green indoor/outdoor carpet that had been placed around the freshly dug grave.
"No." The single syllable tore from my lips, cutting like shattered glass and razor blades.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brandon move to get up, and I started to growl at him to sit the fuck down. Unfortunately, that wasn't acceptable language at a funeral. Not that I really cared, except I wouldn’t disrespect my father that way.
Charlie shot Brandon a look that froze him in in place, and I watched as his gaze tracked over to the preacher.
"Just give her a moment." His voice was warm and soft, barely audible, even to my shifter ears, but everyone went still.
It seemed that every wolf here was already looking to him as the Alpha. I wanted to resent that fact, but the good of the pack was more important than my own messed up feelings on the matter.
Most of the time, Charlie was a smug asshole. Most of the time, I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him for more than five minutes. Most of the time, he treated me like some kind of spoiled little princess who didn't really belong. But on this day, the things he was most of the time didn't matter at all. On this day, he seemed to be the only person in the cemetery who understood me.
Of all the wolves in our pack, all of whom I’d known since birth, Charlie was the only one who seemed able to sense what I needed in this moment. Finally, I understood what had made him such a good Beta to my father. For the first time in my life, I respected his position...respected what he did—had done, I corrected myself—for my father and the rest of the pack. For the first time, I acknowledged that Charlie would make a good Alpha, that he would be what this pack needed. What I was unable to be. At least, not yet. Or any time soon. Though I had refused to admit it until now.
The pastor nodded his understanding and stepped back. Eventually, I took the last step that closed the distance between Dad’s coffin and me. The process of unfurling my fingers was excruciating. Prying the thorns out of my flesh left me feeling hollow, but I didn’t let myself dwell on it. I laid the rose on my father’s coffin with the kind of meticulous care a mother takes the first time she allows another person to hold her newborn infant.
“Do you want to stay while we finish up here, or…?” The pastor trailed off, drumming his fingers against the spine of his Bible in a nervous rhythm.
“I think, maybe, we should go,” Brandon suggested.
“No,” Charlie and I spoke in unison.
“You can go ahead if you want,” I mumbled. “I’m going to stay until it’s done. Wait for Charlie and me at Dad's house. We have things to discuss afterward."
“I’m staying, if you are,” Brandon replied.
I didn’t respond to his words. Whether he chose to stay or go didn’t much matter to me.
Blood dripped off the fingers of my thorn-mangled hand, but the flow was slowing.
My arm hung limp at my side. The girl I was before my father's death would have squeezed Brandon's hand to comfort him and let him know it was okay. Let him know that I was okay, even though it wasn’t true. Because I was as far from okay as it was possible to be. And it was due to more than just my dad’s sudden and violent death.
Today, my father was dead because Brandon had prioritized protecting me over protecting our Alpha. And that was so far from okay, yet he just didn’t get it. Yeah, I was his friend, and I could understand why his first reaction might have been wanting to protect me. But the pack always came first. Which meant no one was more important than the Alpha. Not even me.
Judging by the look of surprise on Brandon's face, not to mention that which was mirrored in Charlie's expression, I didn't think either of them realized that I was ready and more than capable of making rational decisions in the wake of my father's death. Still, both nodded their acceptance as I turned my attention back to the coffin.
I stared at it, seeing nothing else, as the preacher shifted uncomfortably beside me.
He laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Do you want me to remain with you?"
I shrugged and his hand fell away. I didn’t take my eyes off the coffin as the men from the funeral home started lowering it. "That's a kind offer, pastor, but you can go if you have other things you need to do. I'll be just fine."
I caught Brandon's expression out of the corner of my eye. Several emotions crossed his face in rapid succession, with horror and the urge to argue with me warring at center stage.
I'd often wondered why Brandon wasn't my father's Beta, especially when I was feeling particularly belittled by Charlie’s attitude toward me. Now, I knew the answer. Brandon let his feelings cloud his judgement and overshadow his duty to the Alpha and the pack as a whole. Charlie would never d
o that.
My entire body jerked as though I’d been hit by a shotgun blast when the first clump of dirt thudded against the lid of Dad's coffin. Nothing about his death had felt real, until that moment. A sudden wave of dizziness had my knees feeling like jelly, and I swayed on the spot. Charlie closed the distance between us faster than I could blink and slid an arm around my waist to steady me. Normally, I'd never let him touch me. I’d never want to show him any sort of weakness. Not in a million years. Now, however, the whole world seemed different than it had always been. And nothing felt the same, not even the animosity I’d felt toward him as far back as I could remember. Suddenly, my entire life had been turned on its head, and everything I had thought I’d known no longer made any sense.
Now, I was willingly accepting Charlie’s support, and my father was dead because of my best friend’s actions. Because Brandon had abandoned Dad in order to protect me instead. I knew his heart was in the right place, but I couldn't make myself reconcile his good intentions with the fallout. Everything was in jeopardy now. Our pack was vulnerable, our friendship was cracking, and the only person in all of this that I could rely on was the one person in the pack that I liked the least. That I had convinced myself I hated. My harshest critic was somehow the best ally I had following Dad's death.
My heart squeezed with every shovelful of dirt that landed on top of his coffin. By the time they finished burying my father, I didn't know if my heart would ever beat again. Good thing I don’t need a heart for what will come next.
None of us spoke the whole way home. No one even breathed loudly until I unlocked the front door of Dad's house and stepped inside, followed by Charlie and Brandon.
"What did you want to talk to us about?" Brandon murmured.
I kicked my black pumps off and turned to face them both, a deadly calm sweeping over me, even as my heart pounded. "Revenge."
Possessing the Alpha: A Wolf Shifter Romance (Southern Shifters Saga Book 1) Page 4