by TJ Klune
I snorted. “Many things.”
“Ox,” he warned me. “Don’t be flip.”
“I’m not trying to be. Gordo, there’s always something wrong. But nothing more than usual.”
“I need you to tell me, Ox. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
I sighed. “It’s nothing. Okay? I’m just tired. The full moon, work, everything. It happens every now and then. Shit just comes back and piles on. I just need to go to bed early tonight. I’ll be better tomorrow.”
“And you’d tell me, right? If something was wrong.”
Not if it meant keeping him safe. Keeping all of them safe. “Sure, Gordo,” I said, the lie tasting like ash on my tongue.
He watched me for a moment longer, his gaze cool and calculating, before he shook his head. “Fine. Just don’t do that shit to me, Ox. For fuck’s sake, you sounded like you were saying good-bye at dinner. I just—just don’t do that to me.”
“Yeah.” I coughed. “Just tired. All those things come out when I’m tired.”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, go put your feelings all over Joe where they belong. Er—god, I wish I hadn’t said that.”
I laughed, real and true. Gordo tried to push by me to head back to the house, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug. He let out a grunt of surprise, but his arms wrapped around my back immediately and he gave just as good as he got.
“WHAT DID Gordo want?” Joe asked me as we walked toward the old house.
The sun was almost gone. The stars were coming out above us.
The wind blew through the trees. They swayed back and forth.
“Shop talk,” I said.
“Shop talk,” Joe said. “Sounds exciting.”
“Ass.”
He grinned fondly at me, taking my hand in his. “Just giving you shit.”
“I know.”
“You gotta keep it up, anyway, if I’m going to be your kept boy.”
“That’s a terrible plan. You should just get a job.”
“GED first, Ox,” he said, like we hadn’t talked about it a million times already. “Then online college. Then probably pick up where Dad left off. We don’t need the money right now.”
“I know,” I said. “You’ll do good.”
“Yeah?”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. His stubble scraped against my lips. “Yeah. Maybe then I could be the kept boy.”
He laughed and shoved me away.
MY PHONE went off.
Just a single beep.
Joe lay on the couch, his head in my lap, eyes closed as I ran my fingers through his hair. He’d started growing it out again and there was almost enough there for me to hold on to. The TV was on, the sound muted.
I picked up the phone where I’d set it next to me.
I had one new text message.
It was from an unknown number.
You’ve had enough time.
I didn’t let my hands shake.
I said, “Shit.”
Joe opened his eyes. “What?” His voice was rough and wonderful.
“Jessie.”
“What about Jessie?”
“She got a flat tire, and she doesn’t have a jack.”
“Shit. All right, give me a second, and we can—”
“Nah,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. It won’t take long.”
“You sure?”
I nodded, looking down at him. “You’ll see. I’ll be back before you know it.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but then frowned. “Weird.”
“What?”
“Your heart just skipped when you said that. Like—” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m just tired, I guess. As long as you don’t plan on running off with her, I’ll let you go. This once.”
“Never,” I said, though I thought I was breaking. “I’ll never want anyone else but you.”
He smiled up at me. “You’re such a sap today. Hurry up and go so you can come back. If I’m not asleep, I’ll suck you off.”
“Wow. With an offer like that, I should be running out the door.”
“Damn right.”
He let me lift up his head and move from the couch, putting one of the pillows under him to take the place of my lap. I knelt down next to the couch, cupping his face in my hands. I leaned forward and kissed him. He sighed happily, hand coming up to scratch at the back of my head. He pressed his tongue against my lips, just once, and I pulled away.
I ran my thumbs over his eyebrows. His cheeks. His lips. He hummed softly. Safe. Content.
“I love you,” I said, because if there was one thing I hated, one thing I blamed myself for more than anything else, it was that I hadn’t told him this every day. Multiple times a day. It was a rare thing between us. We didn’t need to say it out loud to know how we felt, but that shouldn’t have stopped me.
“Yeah?” he asked, kissing my thumb before taking it between his teeth and biting gently. He let it go and said, “I love you, too, Ox. You’re my mate. And one day soon, I’m going to show you that.”
I had to go before I couldn’t.
I kissed him again.
Stood.
Picked my keys up off the coffee table.
Took a step back.
His eyes were already closing. “I’ll wait for you,” he mumbled.
My throat closed.
I turned and left before he could see the shine in my eyes.
ALPHA.
What?
I know you’re an Alpha.
I’m not. I’m human. I am nothing—
Don’t. Lie. To me. I don’t know how you did it. I don’t know what makes you different. But you are an Alpha, human or not. An Alpha in the Bennett territory, no less.
What do you want?
I have six more people from your town.
You fucking asshole.
I will kill them, Ox. I will kill each and every single one of them. I will make you listen while I tear their arms from their bodies. Ox, one of them is a child. Surely you wouldn’t want to be responsible for the death of a child.
You goddamn animal.
Oh, Ox. I know this about myself. And if you’re just now figuring that out, you’re a bit late to the game.
You won’t get away with this.
I won’t? Ox, I already have.
What do you want!
You. I want you. If I can’t take the Alpha from Joe, I will take it from you. You will come to me. Alone. And I won’t harm these people. This child. Can you hear them, Ox? They’re crying because they’re scared. Because I’ve already made the child bleed. Just a scratch, but enough to show them how serious I am. To them. To you. Can you see now, Ox? How serious I am?
You won’t ever get to Joe. The wards will keep you out. Even if you’re an Alpha. It doesn’t matter who you have with you. Gordo won’t—
Ox. Ox. Ox, you are missing the entire point. I don’t care about Joe. I don’t care about your territory. All I care about is that you are a Bennett in all but name. All I care about is taking from you the one thing Thomas Bennett never wanted me to have. Hell, let me have this, and I won’t harm a single member of your pack.
And you expect me to believe you?
You said it yourself, Ox. I can’t pass the wards. Frankly, whether or not you believe me isn’t a concern of mine. Can you really go on, knowing these innocent people will die because of you?
I….
Ox. You were never meant to be an Alpha. I can take this all away. Your pack will be safe. These people will be safe. Green Creek will be safe. And Joe. It’ll hurt, I’m sure. At first. Loss always does, that sharp stab of pain that guts you. But he’s strong. Stronger than even I gave him credit for. He’ll live, because he’ll have a pack that will need him. One day, he’ll smile again at the thought of you, at the memory of you.
I can just… can’t I just give it to you—
Ah. I’m afraid there isn’t time. I only know of one way to truly take the power of an Alph
a. It’s an unfortunate side effect, death is, but I’m sure you can understand. I can promise I’ll even make it as painless as possible.
I can’t. I can’t just leave them. They’re my—
Do you hear her screaming? She’s the mother, Ox. Her child is watching as I cut her.
Stop it! Oh my god, stop it. You fucking bastard. Leave them alone!
I’ll give you the remainder of the day. I know how much… tradition… meant to Thomas. So have it. Say your good-byes. But, Ox, I swear to you, if I even catch the barest of hints that you’ve deceived me, I will kill them all. And then I will find a way to break these wards. No matter how long it takes. I will break them, and I will slaughter every single person you love. I will save you for last. I will make you watch as your pack dies in front of you, and all the while, you’ll be mired in the knowledge that it’s because of you, that you could have prevented this. And when I get to Joe, I will fuck him until he’s broken. I will fuck him until he smells of nothing but me. And then I will rip his heart from his chest. You’ll watch as I eat it. And then, and only then, when you are shattered at the loss of your pack, at the way every single one was torn from you, I will begin on you. I’ll start at your feet and work my way up, and by the time I get to your fucking knees, you will be begging me to kill you. And I will say no. Do you believe me? Do you believe I’ll do that?
…yes.
Good. That’s real good, Ox. Have your last hours. Not a single word. I won’t touch the people here. Not unless you make me. Your pack will never be safe if you do. You can’t keep them locked in Green Creek forever, Ox. One day, someone will slip and I will be waiting. You do this now, and I promise you they will be safe from me.
When.
When I summon you. I’m a monster, Ox, but I’m not that bad. I’ll give you time. With those you love.
Where.
The wooden bridge. Where I can smell the spilled blood of Omegas. Mine, maybe. Or they could have been. Was this you, Ox? Did you defend your territory like a good Alpha? It’s buried in the dirt, but I can almost taste the fear. The pain. The anger. It tastes like Joe did. When I had him. I licked the sweat from his head. Did he ever tell you that? I didn’t go further, but it was a close thing. Every time I snapped one of his little fingers, I wanted to stuff him full of my—
That’s. Enough.
Ooh. I can feel it. You are an Alpha. The goose bumps, Ox. They are crawling along my skin. I wish there was time to find out how you did it. How you became an Alpha on your own, but alas, there isn’t. I would just hate to prolong the inevitable. It would sour the taste of you.
Take the time you need. I will let you know when to come. Remember, Ox: not a word, or I will make them all suffer. I’ll see you soon.
FOOLISH, YES.
But if there was even the smallest chance Richard was being truthful, that he wouldn’t hurt them, wouldn’t hurt Joe, I had to take it.
And I couldn’t let innocent people die when I could do something to stop it. Thomas had taught me that there was value in all lives, that it was an Alpha’s responsibility to care for those in his territory, even if they didn’t know what an Alpha was.
Green Creek was mine.
The people here were mine.
I had already failed Mr. Fordham.
I couldn’t let that happen to anyone else.
I waited until I left the dirt road, the truck’s tires kicking up dust before they rolled onto asphalt, before I started to mute the bonds between myself and the pack one by one.
We did that sometimes, when we wanted privacy. When we were being intimate. When we wanted to be alone. When we wanted to not be overwhelmed by the continuous feeling of pack pack pack.
When we wanted to keep secrets.
I rarely did this.
And I knew it wouldn’t be long before questions were asked.
Green Creek was almost empty this late. The moon was half full. The street lamps along the main drag burned softly. I didn’t see any other cars moving.
The diner was lit up almost like a beacon. I saw a waitress moving around inside as I passed by. She held a pot of coffee in her hands. She was smiling, about what, I’d never know.
My mother sat in the seat beside me.
She said, “Are you sure about this?”
I said, “For them? Always.”
She said, “I thought as much” and “I love you” and “I am so proud of you” and “You’ve got a soap bubble on your ear” and she laughed, and it was a beautiful sound, a joyful sound, and it was so much like her that my eyes burned and my throat closed.
But she wasn’t really there at all.
I passed out of the lights of Green Creek.
Red eyes looked at me from the passenger seat.
Thomas said, “An Alpha is only as strong as his pack.”
I said, “I know.”
Thomas said, “You are one of the strongest Alphas I’ve ever met.”
I said, “Am I strong enough to do this?”
Thomas said, “Are you going to do this?”
I said, “Yes.”
He said, “Then you’re strong enough” and “You’re my son just the same as the others” and “We’ll sing together soon and I promise you, it’ll fill your heart” and his eyes flashed red again, because even in death, he would always be an Alpha. My Alpha.
The bridge was a couple of miles away when I pulled over to the side of the road.
I had one last thing to do.
The seat was empty next to me.
They hadn’t really been there, I knew that, but I thought maybe I wasn’t alone.
I picked up my phone.
I typed two words to Joe and two words only.
Because I knew he’d understand.
He’d find it in the morning when he woke, since I’d turned his phone off before I left.
I stared at the screen, hesitating.
I didn’t think I could do this, what if I couldn’t do this, what if I couldn’t keep them safe—
I hit Send.
The message disappeared, relayed into towers and then the ether.
I turned off my phone.
I hoped he didn’t hate me for this.
I hoped he could forgive me one day.
I hoped he would find happiness again.
He’d know what the two words meant. Because he’d sent the same thing to me when he’d known what had to be done.
I pulled back onto the road and continued toward the old bridge.
And I thought those two words over and over again.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
THE ROAD to the bridge was empty as I approached.
There were no street lamps out here.
Only the moon and the stars.
It was very dark.
My headlights lit up the bridge, thirty feet away.
It was empty too.
But I could feel them.
A poison on the land that had somehow become mine.
It was a blight against the grass and the trees and the leaves that shuddered in the wind.
A wound that was festering.
I turned off the truck. I left the lights on.
The engine ticked. I breathed evenly and slowly. Thomas and Mom didn’t come back.
I wished they would, even if they hadn’t been real.
I didn’t want to walk this alone.
The pack bonds were completely cut off.
I felt cold and empty. I hadn’t felt like this in a long time.
I took the crowbar out from underneath the seat. It felt smaller than it’d ever felt before.
I opened the door of the old truck. It screeched in the quiet night.
I stepped out onto the dirt road.
I did not tremble.
I did not shake.
I gripped the crowbar tightly and closed the door to the truck.
I moved toward the front of the truck, the headlights stretching m
y shadow until I looked like a giant against the wooden bridge.
I felt the moment I passed through the wards, like walking through a spiderweb. They brushed along my skin, and then the moment was over.
There were crickets in the grass, and they creaked.
I did not falter. The crowbar was cold in my hands.
A flash of violet off in the trees. Blinking once. Then again.
Then another pair. And another pair. And another.
They came then.
Out of the shadows.
There were ten of them.
Omegas.
More feral than I’d ever seen before.
Their eyes were continuously violet.
They were half-shifted, slobbering through fang-filled mouths.
Six humans were pushed out in front of them.
Their hands were bound behind them.
They had gags in their mouths.
Five adults, one child.
They all looked terrified, eyes wide and cheeks streaked with tears.
Two men. Three women. A little boy.
I recognized them. All of them. I’d seen them in Green Creek. They came into the garage. I ran into them in the grocery store. We passed by each other on the street. We waved hello. We waved good-bye. We said things like “have a good day” and “it’s nice to see you again” and “I hope everything is well with you.”
Mr. Fordham wasn’t with them because Mr. Fordham had been murdered while I listened.
They looked relieved at the sight of me, the humans.
I wasn’t their Alpha. Not before. But I would be now, at least for as long as I had left.
The little boy, William, his name was. His mother, Judith.
I said, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s all right. I know it’s scary. I know. But I’m here now. I’m here now and I promise I will do everything I can to make it okay. Just have faith in me. I will take care of you.”
The Omegas snarled as they laughed. They scraped their claws against human skin, leaving welts but not drawing blood.
The humans cried, tears and snot on their terrified faces.
The Omegas stopped in front of the bridge, standing behind the humans.
They forced them to their knees in the dirt.
Claws curled onto the humans’ shoulders.
The one behind William was bigger than the others. And meaner looking. He curved his claws around the boy’s face, fingers hooking under his chin. He caressed the claw on his thumb along William’s cheek, dimpling the skin. It wouldn’t take much. Just the slightest pressure and William would be—