Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

frustrated as the rest of us with the lack of information. Every now and then I’d stumble across him on a hushed phone call, and while I couldn’t hear what was said, the expression on his face was enough. The teams of wolves out searching for Richard, for Robert, for Osmond were coming back empty. No one knew where to look. No one knew if he was in hiding or if he was building up Omegas. Every registered Alpha was put on notice. But Mark told me that for every three or four registered Alphas, there was one that wasn’t known.

Richard could try and track down those unknowns.

If they didn’t know he was coming, they wouldn’t stand a chance. Especially not with Robert Livingstone at his side.

There were rumors that Richard Collins was in Texas. Or Maine. Or Mexico. Someone had seen Robert Livingstone in Germany. Osmond was in Anchorage.

None of it ever panned out.

Michelle Hughes wasn’t pleased that Joe and the others were gone. None of them were, the faceless higher-ups that knew who I was. Robbie seemed to be filled with a mixture of glee and terror as he told us this, that the teams out searching were also instructed that if they came across Joe, to apprehend him and bring him East.

They never found Joe.

BUT AT home, things needed to change. Elizabeth still hadn’t shifted back and I was worried the day would come that she wouldn’t be able to anymore.

Mark was getting quieter and quieter. He spoke only when spoken to, and then it was only a few words before lapsing back into silence.

Tanner, Chris, and Rico didn’t know what to do. They were pack, but they didn’t understand what that meant. After the initial burst of newness, of the joining of their threads to ours, the excitement wore off. Elizabeth didn’t run on the full moons. Mark was just as inclined to disappear.

I walked through the woods, sunlight filtering through the trees.

It’s going to break soon, Thomas said, walking at my side.

“I know,” I said, even though he wasn’t really there.

Something needs to change, my mother said, running her hands along the bark of a Douglas fir.

“I know,” I said, even though she was buried in the ground six miles away.

They were right, these ghosts. These memories. These few things I had left.

An Alpha isn’t decided by the color of his eyes, Thomas said as I picked up a pinecone from the forest floor.

Do you remember when he left? Mom asked. You stood in the kitchen and told me you were going to be the man now. Your face was wet but you said you were going to be the man. I worried. About us. About this. About you. But I believed you too.

And she had.

Both of them had.

I found myself in front of the house.

The old house.

It looked as it always had.

I stood there for a long time.

Eventually, there was a nudge at my hand.

I looked down.

Elizabeth watched me with knowing eyes.

I said, “We have to change. This isn’t working. Not anymore.”

She whined.

“I know it hurts,” I said. “I know it’s easier for you. Like this. Now. But we can’t do this. Not anymore.”