you’re not
please please please i don’t want to die
please you’re hurting me robbie you’re hurting me
oh god no
no
let me go let me go LET ME GO LETMEGOLETME)
The bridge creaked beneath my feet as more stars appeared. I tilted my head back, stretching my neck, barely holding the shift at bay.
“I’m not a monster,” I told the waning moon.
“We were wrong,” Shannon said as my eyes flooded with orange fire. “We thought… we thought we knew what had happened. In the compound. We were wrong. All of us. We made mistakes. And we suffered because of it. But it wasn’t as bad for us. Because we had each other. We’re pack. Even after all we’d lost, we’re pack. We’re together. But I understand loss. That void. Where something is taken. Torn away. I can only imagine what it must have been like for them.”
“Who?” I demanded, my voice a low growl, more wolf than man. “Who are you talking about? Why am I here? What have you done? I’m not a monster. I’m not a weapon. For fuck’s sakes, you’re describing an Omega. Can you see me? Can you see what I am? I’m a goddamn Beta!”
She said, “I thought I knew. What it meant to be Omega. What they were. I was wrong. Brodie showed me that. And I will never let him go.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
She smiled sadly. “I know. But you will. One day all will be well and we will live free and without fear.” Her eyes flooded with red. “I’ll fight for that with everything I have. Can you say the same?”
“Alpha, I mean no disrespect, but can you get to the fucking point? Because I’m getting real tired of
your shit.”
She nodded. “You’re right, of course. Here. Let me show you.”
She tilted her head back toward the moon, her shift starting to overcome her. Her face elongated as thin white hair grew around her nose and mouth. The white faded into rust red, almost like a fox. And she was fox-like, her snout shorter than most other wolves I’d seen. It took me a moment to recognize her for what she was.
A maned wolf.
I’d never seen one before.
I didn’t even know there were maned wolf shifters.
She didn’t howl. Instead, a deep guttural bark crawled from her throat and out of her mouth, reverberating along the bridge and slamming into me. She did it again. And again. And again.
The sounds faded away into nothing.
“What is this?” I asked her. “What is—”
An answering howl.
I fell to my knees.
An Alpha.
A second howl rose up from the trees, singing in chorus with the first.
A third Alpha.
I pressed my hands against the ground, claws scraping into the pavement.
The howls came again, and I could hear the voices in them, saying we’re coming we’re coming WE’RE COMING.