“And yet you did nothing to fight your sons. To not let them make the same mistakes we did. You rolled over like a dog in that room.”
She didn’t rise to the bait. Instead she said, “And you didn’t?”
Fuck. “Why?”
“Why what, Gordo? You have to be more specific.”
“Why are you letting them go?”
“Because we were young and foolish once, filled with a great and terrible rage. And that has now passed to them.” She sighed. “You’ve been there before. You’ve been through this. It happened once. And it’s happening again. I’m trusting you to help them avoid the mistakes we made.”
“I’m not pack.”
“No,” she said, and that shouldn’t have stung like it did. “But that’s a choice you made. Much like we are here now because of the choices we made. Maybe you’re right. Maybe if we hadn’t come here, Ox would be….”
“Human?”
Her eyes flashed again. “Thomas—”
I snorted. “He didn’t tell me shit. But it’s not hard to see. What is it about him?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know that Thomas knew either. Not exactly. But Ox is… special. Different. He doesn’t see it yet. And it may be a long time before he does. I don’t know if it’s magic or something more. He’s not like us. He’s not like you. But he’s not human. Not completely. He’s more, I think. Than all of us.”
“You need to keep him safe. I’ve strengthened the wards as best I can, but you need—”
“He’s pack, Gordo. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for pack. Surely you remember that.”
“I did it for Abel. And then for Thomas.”
“Lie,” she said, cocking her head. “But you almost believe it.”
I took a step back. “I need to—”
“Why can’t you say it?”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“He loved you,” she said, and I’d never hated her more. “With everything he had. Such is the way of wolves. We sing and sing and sing until someone hears our song. And you did. You heard. You didn’t do it for Abel or Thomas, Gordo. Even then. You were twelve years old, but you knew. You were pack.”
“Goddamn you,” I said hoarsely.
“I know,” she said, not unkindly. “Sometimes the things we need to hear the most are the things we want to hear the least. I loved my husband, Gordo. I will love him forever. And he knew that. Even in the end, even when Richard—” Her breath caught in her throat. She shook her head. “Even then. He knew. And I will miss him every day until I can stand at his side again, until I can look upon his face, his beautiful face, and tell him how angry I am. How stupid he is. How lovely it is to see him again, and would he please just say my name.” There were tears in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. “I hurt, Gordo. I don’t know if this ache will ever leave me. But he knew.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Only because you won’t let it be. He loved you. He gave you his wolf. And then you gave it back.”
“He made his choice. And I made mine. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want anything to do with you. With him.”
“You. Lie.”
“What do you want from me?” I asked, anger filling my voice. “What the hell could you possibly want?”
“Thomas knew,” she said again. “Even at the brink of death. Because I told him. Because I showed him time and time again. I regret many things in my life. But I will never regret Thomas Bennett.”
She moved toward me, her steps slow but
sure. I stood my ground, even when she placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. “You leave in the morning. Don’t regret this, Gordo. Because if words are left unsaid, they will haunt you for the rest of your days.”