by TJ Klune
I opened my eyes as the wolf rounded in front of me, hackles raised. He bared his fangs as he growled at me, pawing the dirt and gravel. He took a step toward me, and I took an answering step back. His eyes were alight, and the air was hot and hazy around us. It almost felt like I was dreaming.
Before he could take another step, a voice spoke behind me. “You can’t.”
I turned.
Joe stood in the middle of the road. He looked impossibly young for one so strong, here in these woods that thrummed with the blood of all those who had come before him. He had a complicated expression on his face, part anguish, part irritation. And there was blue too, rippling off him like he had no control over it.
He said, “You can’t. You just can’t.”
I hung my head. “Why? It’d be easier—”
“I don’t give a fuck about easy,” he snapped, Alpha filling his voice, creating a deep and unwavering timbre. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here. We never would have made it this far. Look at me, Robbie.”
I did. I was helpless not to.
The irritation was gone, though the anguish remained, filling in the cracks. He looked stricken, hands jerking at his sides like he wanted to reach out for me and thought better of it. The wolf stood next to me, tail swishing, waiting to see what the Alpha would do. What he would say.
Joe shook his head. “I let you down.”
I barely kept from rolling my eyes. “I think you were justified—”
“No,” he said, taking a step toward me. I was frozen in place. “That’s not fair. That’s an excuse. An easy one. And one I’ve taken before.” He took another step. I could see his mother in him. His brothers. He felt like the wolf from my dreams, the one I knew now to be his father. And in this haze of green and blue, he was a king without a crown. I thought he could save us all if only given the chance. “My father….” His chest hitched. “He told me that an Alpha couldn’t be absolute. That I would need to listen. He said the measure of an Alpha isn’t the power he holds over others but what he does with it. I would need to know kindness as well as strength. I would need to put pack above all others, even myself. An Alpha without a pack isn’t an Alpha at all. Richard Collins didn’t understand that. He only wanted the power. To use it to twist everything until it lay in ruins. He wanted to destroy. He almost took everything. Do you know why he failed?”
The wolf nuzzled my palm, nipping lightly at my fingers.
“He failed because he didn’t understand the lessons of my father. He didn’t understand what it meant to be pack. And neither did I. Not until you taught me.”
I was alarmed when he fell to his knees in front of me. I was horrified when he bared his neck, a sign of submission I’d never seen from an Alpha before. His eyes were wet and pleading. His voice was broken when he said, “I let you down, Robbie. I should have done more. I should have listened. To Ox. To Gordo. To Kelly most of all. I forgot the words of my father. You were—are—part of my pack, and I—I just let you go.”
“Get up,” I said roughly. “Get up, get up, get up—”
And he said, “No. Not until you hear me. Not until you understand. You are important to me. When you were gone, I tried to ignore this hole in all of us. I told myself that we had other things to worry about. I closed ranks, and that was a mistake.”
I saw movement behind him, and there, standing down the road, was Ox. He watched. He waited.
Joe never took his eyes off me.
“If you leave,” Joe said, “if you decide to give up, to give in, then what the hell are we fighting for? What’s the point of all of this?”
“It’d be easier,” I whispered.
“It would,” he agreed. He tried for a smile, but it shattered. “But I don’t want that. Not if it means losing you. You’re my brother’s mate. But more than that, you’re my brother, just as much as Kelly and Carter. You can’t go, because without you, we’re incomplete. And if we’re incomplete, then we’re nothing.”
“You survived,” I said, surprised at how bitter it sounded.
“We did. But there’s a difference between surviving and living. And I want to live, Robbie. I want to live for you. For all of you. Because we deserve it. We deserve to exist in a world where we only know peace. We deserve to be happy. You deserve it. And I forgot that. If you’ll forgive me, I promise I’ll never let it happen again.”
I wiped my eyes. “You can’t promise that. No one can.”
“I can,” he said.
“Why?”
He reached out for my hand, hung on as if I were a lifeline. “Because pack is family. And family is everything. An Alpha is only as strong as his pack. And you are my strength.”
He brought my hand up to his throat, wrapping my fingers around his neck. I felt him breathing. I felt the steady pulse of his heartbeat.
He spoke only truth.
His truth.
I sank to my knees before him, his hand still pressing my own against his throat. He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple rising and falling against the webbing between my thumb and pointer finger. The wolf circled around us, brushing against the both of us, eyes still brightly violet.
I said, “Joe.”
He said, “Robbie.”
And I said, “Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.”
His eyes filled with fire. His claws prickled my skin. There was a moment, a brief and shining moment, when I thought I heard his voice in my head, when I thought I felt the thrum of bonds connecting us, and though they were tenuous, they held.
And in this whisper, I heard
pack
pack
pack
Then it was gone, as if it’d never been there at all.
But it was enough.
The road behind us stretched on, but it wasn’t meant for me. Not now. Not yet. And when I put feet to it, I wouldn’t be alone.
“Never again,” Joe whispered. “I promise.”
And for the first time since I returned, I believed Joe Bennett.
We stayed until the full moon, though it felt dangerous to do so. The longer we waited, the more time Livingstone had to prepare. Help was coming, Ox told us, and we needed all we could get. And it was better to be on the other side of the full moon. The wolves in Caswell wouldn’t be as strong. Neither would we, but that was left unsaid.
July 5, 2020.
A Sunday.
It started with Tradition.
We laughed a lot that day. There was food, more than even a pack of wolves could eat. And stories, so many stories, told by each member of the Bennett pack.
Elizabeth spoke of a dream she’d once had. Of her husband and how he brought her stone wolf back to her.
Joe told us about a time when it’d been just him and his father. He’d been little, sitting atop his father’s shoulders as they wandered through the forest.
Rico regaled us all with a story of how he, Chris, and Tanner had gotten Gordo high for the first time when they were thirteen, and how all the lightbulbs in his house had burst at once. They’d chalked it up to a power surge at the time, but now he knew it was because Gordo had been talking about Mark in a disgustingly dreamy voice. We all laughed at that, even as Gordo glared at Rico.
Mark said how full his heart had been the first time he’d seen Gordo after the Bennetts returned to Green Creek, that even though Gordo was yelling at him to stay the hell away, Mark had wanted nothing more than to hug him and never let him go.
Chris and Tanner took turns, almost giggling, as they reminisced about when Jessie had first come to Green Creek and how Ox had acted like an idiot at the first sight of her, following her around like a creepy stalker.
Not to be outdone, Jessie reminded them of how the same would probably happen to them one day now that they were wolves—that they would most likely succumb to the mystical moon magic. Chris and Tanner were outraged.
Gordo, on his third beer, seemed loose and easy when he said he never would have expected that he’d actually like having wolves ar
ound again. He had a goofy grin on his face, and he laughed without reservation when Mark tugged him close, his nose in Gordo’s hair, beard scratching Gordo’s cheek.
Carter spoke of seeing Joe for the first time after he was born, and how he told his mother he didn’t think something so small and wrinkled and loud could ever be an Alpha. I didn’t think he realized that his hand never left the timber wolf’s head, rubbing between his ears.
And Kelly, always Kelly. Kelly, who was only halfway into his first beer and yet was talking loudly and snorting in quiet laughter, even as Carter tried to get him to drink more. Kelly, whose eyes were wide and bright, Kelly who looked at me as if I were the moon itself, Kelly who said we were where we were supposed to be, with who we were supposed to be with. And seemingly without thinking about it, there, in front of everyone, he leaned forward and kissed me, a loud smacking thing that caused Rico and Tanner and Chris to hoot and holler, demanding we get a fucking room.
I was dazed, my head spinning, my heart thundering in my chest. I tried to find the words to tell him, to tell them all, what this moment meant. What I thought we could be. That it almost didn’t matter if I never remembered the life I’d once had because I knew I could make a new one out of the bones that remained.
It was Ox who spoke last.
He said, “I love you,” and we all fell silent. He looked at each of us in turn. “More than I could possibly say. And I’ve never been prouder of who you’ve all become. Remember this. Here. Now. If there ever comes a time when all seems dark, when all seems lost, remember this moment. Because this is who we are. This is who we’re supposed to be. It’s time. It’s time to run.”
He tilted his head back as the sky filled with stars, as the moon shone down around us. He howled, and it echoed throughout Green Creek, shaking it to its very foundation. It rolled through each of us, and as we sang our songs in response to the call of our Alpha, I told myself nothing could stop us.
“Jesus Christ,” Rico muttered as Chris and Tanner took off their clothes. “Chris, you really need to do something about your bush, man. It’s like an old-growth forest down there. What the fuck. Learn to manscape.” But he was laughing when Chris threw his shirt into Rico’s face.
We ran that night.
Through the woods to the clearing.
The humans kept up with us, light on their feet and breathless.
In my wolf head and in my wolf heart, I knew that no matter what happened, I would have this moment.
And no one, not even Robert Livingstone, would be able to take that away from me.
We slept together that night as a pack, curled together safe and warm.
I thought everyone was asleep. I was about to drift off when I heard whispers from my left.
I opened my eyes.
Carter and Kelly lay facing each other. My arm was around Kelly’s waist, and Carter was holding on to my hand, but I didn’t think they knew I was awake.
Carter said, “We’ve got this, man. You’ll see.”
“What if we don’t?” Kelly asked, and I ached at the worry in his voice.
Carter sighed, reaching up to flick Kelly on the forehead. “Stop being so pessimistic. You gotta believe.”
Kelly huffed. “You’re so stupid.”
“Yeah, probably. But I’ve got my looks still, so I’m not too worried about it.”
They were quiet for a moment. Then, “Carter?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared.”
“I know, Kelly. Me too. But as long as we’re together, we’ll be all right.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Really. You stay with me and Robbie. You protect us, and we’ll protect you. I’ve got your back, okay?”
“Always?”
“Always.” He sighed. “Can I tell you something?”
“Yes.”
“I really hope we fucking straight-up murder Gordo’s dad. I’m sick and tired of this Omega bullshit. I want my tether back.”
Kelly laughed, though it sounded closer to a sob. “I’m right here. I’m right here.”
Carter squeezed my hand. He knew I was awake. “I know you are. It’s just… I miss it. Having you always in my head. I didn’t realize just how much I’d miss it until it wasn’t there anymore. It’s like this… this vacuum, you know? I get it now. How you must have felt when Robbie was gone. I never want you to feel like that again, so we’re going to fucking destroy Robert Livingstone, and then we’ll come home, and it’ll be like it used to be.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, Kelly. I promise.”
They slept soon after, curled together.
I stayed awake for a long time.
The sky had barely begun to lighten when I shook Kelly awake. His eyes opened slowly, unfocused and blinking. He saw me, and he smiled. I knew right then and there that I would do anything for him.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“I need your help,” I whispered.
He unwrapped himself from his brother, who smacked his lips and grunted in his sleep before turning over, burying his face in the timber wolf’s stomach. The wolf flicked its tail once before breathing deeply.
Elizabeth opened her eyes in the low light. She didn’t speak. She smiled before closing her eyes again.
I led Kelly by the hand up the stairs to the second floor. We passed by his room. He yawned, jaw cracking as he rubbed his eyes. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
I pushed open the door to the bathroom. I let go of his hand, and he stood in the doorway. I went to the sink and stared into the mirror. It was the face I’d seen for as long as I could remember, but it wasn’t the right one. Not yet. Parts of myself were still hidden away, lost in the grip of magic behind an unbreakable door.
I shrugged my shirt up and over my head, dropped it to the floor. I opened one of the drawers beneath the sink. The electric razor was still there, where I’d seen it a few weeks previous. I hadn’t been ready then.
I was now.
He took it from me wordlessly, looking down at it, then back at me. I closed the lid to the toilet and sat down on it. I reached back and grabbed a towel hanging from the wooden rack. I spread it over my shoulders. I took a deep breath.
He said, “You don’t remember. But sometimes you act like you do. It’s almost like muscle memory. A reflex.”
I blinked. “What?”
He closed the bathroom door. “Before. You didn’t like people you didn’t know touching you. That included getting a haircut. You weren’t mean about it, it was just….” He shook his head. “It was just one of your things. You said it made you nervous.”
“I’ve always been that way.”
He smiled, though it faded almost immediately. “I know. You did it, though, because none of us knew how to cut hair. When we were on the road going after Richard Collins, we shaved our own heads. I told you about that once and you all but demanded I do the same for you.” He laughed. “You told me later that you just used it as an excuse to get my hands on you.”
I groaned. “Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah, I pretty much saw right through you. Mom always used to do it for you, but then you asked me and I just….” He shrugged. “I couldn’t say no.”
I looked down at my hands. “Couldn’t?”
“Wouldn’t,” he said. “It was such a little thing, but it felt so big. I was pretty bad at it at first, but I got better at it. You trusted me, and so I made sure I knew what I was doing.”
“I want it all gone,” I told him. “All of it. You don’t need to…. It doesn’t need to look like it was before. I just….”
“I know. Here. Sit on the edge of the bathtub. It’ll make things easier.”
I moved. My hands were shaking, and I wasn’t sure why.
He watched me for a moment before motioning for me to spread my legs. I did, my feet flat against the white bath mat. He stepped between my legs, and I sighed as the scent of him enveloped me.
/> Grass.
Lake water.
Sunshine.
He ran a hand through my hair. I leaned into the touch. He gripped it slightly, pulling my head back to look up at him. My pupils felt blown out, my hands shaking as I curled them into fists on my lap. “You sure about this?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“There’s no going back.”
“I know.”
He hummed a little under his breath. He slid the switch of the razor up, and it started to vibrate.
There was something extraordinarily intimate about what followed. We didn’t speak. We only breathed. He put his hand around the back of my neck, holding me in place. I followed the sound of his great heart, a minor drumbeat in the grand scheme of things, but something so terrifyingly precious in this fractured reality. He started at the front, and hair began to float down around me, onto my shoulders and back, individual strands clinging to my cheeks. It felt like we were the only people in existence. It didn’t take long, and there were times when he stepped back, gripping me by the chin, turning my face side to side. My eyes never left his. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t think I ever wanted to. And it filled me with a staggering fury, knowing I’d been torn away from this.
From him.
If I wasn’t in love with him yet, I knew I would be soon.
It was inevitable.
I needed him to understand.
I did the only thing I could. I gave him back the words he’d once gifted to me.
I said, “There was something… I don’t know. Endless. About you and me. We came here sometimes. Just the two of us. And I pretended to know all the stars. I would make up stories that absolutely weren’t true, and I remember looking at you, thinking how wonderful it was just to be by your side.”
He gripped the back of my neck tighter.