Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

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.