Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

“Ah,” I said, trying to take in another breath. “Ah. Ah.”

I slid down to the floor, my back against the door.

I put my head on my knees.

From where I sat, I knew I could look up and see the spot where she’d died. Where she’d looked up at me with such steel in her eyes. She’d known she was going to go, and she went out on her own terms, giving me the smallest of chances to escape and howl for our pack.

The shadows lengthened as the day wore on.

I could feel the others. My pack. Their joy. Their confusion. Their sadness. Their anger.

I couldn’t feel Carter and Kelly like I used to. I didn’t feel tied to Gordo like I had once been. Even if he hadn’t been pack for most of the time I’d known about wolves, there’d always been something there between us, especially after he’d gifted me the work shirts when I’d turned fifteen.

Joe, though.

I could feel him.

Because he was an Alpha. More than I ever was.

This place, this territory, was rightfully his.

And since (if if if) he was back, it should be his again.

I should have felt relieved at that.

That the responsibility wasn’t mine alone to bear anymore.

And I did. Mostly.

But there was a part of me that said mine, mine, mine.

That this place, these houses, these people were mine.

I banged my head against the door, trying to clear my thoughts.

The shadows stretched farther.

And that’s when he approached.

Even before I heard him, I felt him.

I didn’t focus on the bond, the thread. I didn’t want to see how tattered it was between us, if it was even there at all. Something once growing stronger every day now in shreds.

I tried to keep my breaths even. My heart calm.

I tried to make him go away without even saying a word.

My breaths were short. My heart was stumbling.

He didn’t go away.

He didn’t speak, but he didn’t go away.

The porch creaked as he slowly climbed the steps.

His hands were on the porch rail, fingers dragging along the chipped paint.

He reached the top step and stood there for a beat.