I will make this right, I thought in the present. I promise you, Lexa. Once the old man isn’t looking over my shoulder anymore, I can tell you how I really feel—and give the pack what it really needs.
She ran away crying, and I turned my back, slamming the door on the train wreck I’d just made. Grandfather laughed and congratulated me, and the family dinner went on as if we had just evicted a stray dog.
A few days later, Grandfather called me to his office. I could tell from his expression that he had a tough mission for me, one of the ones I hated but pretended to like.
I tortured people for him. I killed people for him. And I let him think I liked it.
Grandfather was a firm believer in final solutions. He would occasionally issue a verbal warning or a light beating, but mostly, he went straight to death. Any random wolf I found out on patrol was brutally killed, no matter who they were or what they were doing. Grandfather said if they were on the boundary, we had to make an example of them.
And he’d said he regretted not being able to do it himself. That he was too old for patrols or hands-on discipline, and that it did me good to step up and learn to do what was necessary.
On that horrible night, he called me to his office and told me to kill both Lexa and her mother.
My struggle in that moment was one of the most painful moments of my life. If I showed any resistance to the idea, Grandfather would take it out on me—either directly, with torture for punishment, or against others in the family he knew I cared about. He had his ways of forcing obedience, and he only got more creative as he got older.
Keeping my stance casual, I lightly commented that the two of them were of such little consequence, they weren’t worth the effort. Grandfather agreed, but said he’d ultimately decided they were a liability and wouldn’t tolerate their presence in the pack any longer.
If I argued with him, then he would know that I truly cared about Lexa. It would only give him ammunition, and I knew he already had his suspicions.
The only thing I could do was nod in agreement.
Grandfather then revealed to me that he was taking Grandmother to the human world for a week, and he expected the job to be done by the time he got back.
After we spoke, I went to find Lexa, explain everything, and tell her to get out of Cyan Lock. To run and never look back.
And maybe, go with her…
My world was slowly collapsing. I couldn’t obey Grandfather anymore, but I knew what he would do if I defied him. No matter where we ran, he would most likely catch us, but I couldn’t think of another solution that would keep Lexa safe. Even though I didn’t want to abandon my family or my pack, I stupidly thought they might be safer if I left.
When I went looking for Lexa, I found her house empty. It looked like it had been broken into, and I could only detect a very faint trail of her scent—a scent I followed into the woods.
Not far beyond our boundary, I found the body of Laura, Lexa’s mother. There was no sign of Lexa, and almost no trail to follow. It looked like the poor woman had gone down in a terrible fight and had been there for some time. I took her body back to town, hoping to satisfy Grandfather that the job had been completed.
But I didn’t have to, because he never returned. After news of his death was announced, I became alpha. After that, I answered to no one. Unless you counted the council.
I tried to find Lexa for the first two years. Trackers and investigators were sent out throughout Lycan Pass as well as thehuman world, but I found no leads to her location or even her previous pack. Her mother had kept their past a secret, and even though she must have done it for their safety, it had been the biggest barrier between me and finding Lexa.
And all I wanted was to keep her safe…
“Lexa,” I say softly as we crest the last hill. The Pass turns sharply down towards the town, and I can see the lake as a perfect smudge of blue against the hills.
“What?” she answers, her tone flat and hard. All the words I want to say get stuck in my throat, and I swallow them down.
I have so much to say, but how can I ever explain? She’ll think I killed her mother.
“We’re almost there,” I say weakly.
She nods. “Yeah. There’s the lake. Are we going to your estate?”
“No, we’ll have to go into town first. To see the council.”
“What?” Lexa asks, her tone pained. “Why?”
“For the ceremony,” I answer. “The binding ceremony?”
“What?” she gasps. “Now?”
“Yes,” I reply with some regret. “Now.”
