“He was the Alpha. Not just for you. Not just for your pack. But for all. And then Richard….”
“Took me.”
“Yes.”
Joe opened his eyes. They were not alight. “I am not my father.”
“I know. But you’re not supposed to be.”
“Are you with me?”
I hesitated. I knew what he was asking. It wasn’t formal, not by a long shot, but he was an Alpha, and I was a witch without a pack.
Take care of my nephews.
I said the only thing I could.
“Yes.”
His shift came over him quickly, his face elongating, skin covered in white hair, claws stretching out from the tips from his fingers. And as his eyes burst into flames, he tilted his head back and sang the song of the wolf.
THREE YEARS
ONE MONTH
TWENTY-SIX DAYS
torn apart/dirt and leaves and rain
I WAS six when I first looked upon an older boy shifting into a wolf, and my father whispered, “That’s Abel’s son. His name is Thomas, and one day he will be the Alpha of the Bennett pack. You will belong to him.”
Thomas.
Thomas.
Thomas.
I was in awe of him.
I WAS eight, and my father took a needle and burned ink and magic into my skin. “It’s going to hurt,” he told me, a grim look on his face. “I won’t lie to you about that. It’s going to hurt like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’ll think I’m tearing you apart, and in a sense, you’re right. You have magic in you, child, but it hasn’t yet manifested. These marks will center you and give you the tools to begin to control it. I will hurt you, but it’s necessary for who you’re supposed to become. Pain is a lesson. It teaches you the ways of the world. We must hurt the ones we love in order to make them stronger. To make them better. One day you’ll understand. One day you’ll be like me.”
“Please, Father,” I begged, struggling against the restraints that held me down. “Please don’t do this. Please don’t hurt me.”
My mother looked to speak, but my father shook his head.
She choked on a sob as she was led from the room. She didn’t look back.
Abel Bennett sat beside me. He was a large man. A kind man. He was strong and powerful, with dark hair and dark eyes. He had hands that looked as if they could split me in two. I’d seen them grow claws to tear into the flesh of those who dared to try to take from him.
But they could be soft too, and warm. He took my face in them, thumbs brushing the tears away from my cheeks. I looked up at him, and he smiled quietly.
He said, “You are going to be something special, Gordo. I just know it.”
And as his eyes started bleeding red, I breathed and breathed and breathed.
Then the needle pressed against my skin and I was torn apart.
I screamed.