TJ Klune - Brothersong (Green Creek Book 4) - Concursos (2024)

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Table of ContentsAbout BrothersongTitle PageCopyright PageDedicationthe last songgonelike this/got youwaiting for you/say my namebetter candy/need to stoppeter and the wolf/our fatherawakethe only thing/nosy f*ckerleave us behind/slow drumbeatnot fair/thump thump thumpwaiting for you/because i amheartbeatwolf brain/without youscar tissue/broken partsshiftdaddy rico/hello helloit’s platonic/into this rivergood name/opposable thumbswhite willow/die squirrel diebe better/these scarsfor you/fill my lungssnowpage seventy-six/f*ck some sh*t upsafelike this/little godmy mother/soap bubblewolfsong/ravensong/ heartsong/brothersonghomeTO JOE’S FUTUREHello, Ox—About TJ KluneOther Works by TJ KluneAbout Brothersong In the ruins of Caswell, Maine, Carter Bennett learned the truth of what hadbeen right in front of him the entire time. And then it—he—was gone.Desperate for answers, Carter takes to the road, leaving family and thesafety of his pack behind, all in the name of a man he only knows as a feralwolf. But therein lies the danger: wolves are pack animals, and the longerCarter is on his own, the more his mind slips toward the endless void ofOmega insanity.But he pushes on, following the trail left by Gavin.Gavin, the son of Robert Livingstone. The half-brother of GordoLivingstone.What Carter finds will change the course of the wolves forever. BecauseGavin’s history with the Bennett pack goes back further than anyoneknows, a secret kept hidden by Carter’s father, Thomas Bennett.And with this knowledge comes a price: the sins of the fathers now restupon the shoulders of their sons. BrothersongByTJ Klune This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of theauthor’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. BrothersongCopyright © 2020 by TJ Klune All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrievalsystem, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, orotherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States ofAmerica copyright law. For permission requests and all other inquiries, contact:tjklunebooks@yahoo.com Published by BOATK Bookshttp://tjklunebooks.comtjklunebooks@yahoo.com Cover Art by Reese Dante https://reesedante.comCover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model. Published 2020.Printed in the United States of America Dedication For my packpackpack. i hear your hearta thunderous soundmy brother and my friendhowl your song and lead me hometogether ’til the end gone“A wolf,” my father told me once, “is only as strong as his tether.Without a tether, without something to remind him of his humanity, he’ll belost.”I stared up at him with wide eyes. I thought no one could ever be as bigas my father. He was all I could see. “Really?”He nodded, taking my hand. We were walking through the woods. Kellyhad wanted to come with us, but Dad said he couldn’t.Kelly cried, only stopping when I told him I’d come back and we’d playhide-and-seek. “You promise?”“I promise.”I was eight years old. Kelly was six. Our promises were important.My father’s hand engulfed my own, and I wondered if I would be likehim when I grew up. I knew I wasn’t going to be an Alpha. That was Joe,though I didn’t understand how my two-year-old brother would be theAlpha of anything. I’d been jealous when my parents told us Joe would besomething I could never be, but it’d faded when Kelly said it was okay,Carter, because that means you and me will always be the same.I never worried about it after that.“Soon,” my father said, “you’ll be ready for your first shift. It’ll bescary and confusing, but so long as you have your tether, all will be well.You’ll be able to run with your mother and me and the rest of our pack.”“I already do that,” I reminded him.He laughed. “You do, don’t you? But you’ll be faster. I don’t know ifI’ll be able to keep up with you.”I was shocked. “But… you’re the Alpha. Of everyone.”“I am,” he agreed. “But that’s not what’s important.” He stopped undera large oak tree. “It’s about the heart that beats in your chest. And you’vegot a great heart, Carter, one that beats so strongly that I think you might bethe fastest wolf who ever lived.”“Whoa,” I breathed. He dropped my hand before sitting on the ground,his back to the tree. He crossed his legs, motioning for me to do the same. Idid so, and quickly, not wanting him to change his mind about how fast Iwould be. My knees bumped his as I mirrored his pose.He smiled at me as he said, “A tether to a wolf is precious, somethingguarded fiercely. It can be a thought or an idea. The feeling of pack. Ofhome.” His smile faded slightly. “Or of where home should be. Take us, forexample. We’re here in Maine, but I don’t know if that’s our home. We’rehere because of what’s asked of us. Because of what I must do. But when Ithink of home, I think of a little town in the west, and I miss it terribly.”“We can go back,” I told my dad. “You’re the boss. We can go whereverwe want.”He shook his head. “I have a responsibility, one I’m grateful for. Beingan Alpha isn’t about doing whatever I want. It’s about weighing the needsof the many. Your grandfather taught me that. An Alpha means puttingothers above yourself.”“And that’s going to be Joe,” I said dubiously. When I’d seen him last,he’d been in a high chair in the kitchen, Mom scolding him for puttingCheerios up his nose.He laughed. “One day. But not for a long time. But today is about you.You’re just as important as your brother, as is Kelly. Even though Joe’sgoing to be the Alpha, he’ll look to you for guidance. An Alpha needssomeone like the two of you who he can trust, who he can look to whenhe’s uncertain. And you’ll need to be strong for him. Which is why we’rehere. You don’t need to know what your tether is today, but I’ll ask you tostart thinking about it and what it could be to you—”“Can it be a person?”He paused. Then, “Why do you ask?”“Can it?”He stared at me for a long time. “It can. But having a person as yourtether can be… difficult.”“Why?”“Because people change. We don’t stay the same. We learn and growand, from new experiences, are shaped into something more. Sometimes,people aren’t… well. They aren’t who they’re supposed to be or how wethink of them. They change in ways we don’t expect, and while we wantthem to remember the good times, they can only focus on the bad. And itcolors their world in shadows.”There was a look on his face I’d never seen before, and it made meuneasy. But it was gone before I could ask after it. “Is a tether a secret?”He nodded. “It can be. Having a tether is… it’s a treasure. One that isunlike anything else in the world. Some even say it’s more important thanhaving a mate.”I grimaced. “I don’t care about that. Girls are weird. I don’t want amate. That’s stupid.”He chuckled. “I’ll remind you of that when the day comes. And I can’twait to see the look on your face.”“What’s yours? You can tell me. I won’t say anything to anyone.”He tilted his head back against the tree. “You promise?”I nodded eagerly. “Yeah.”When my father smiled for real, you could see it in his eyes. It was likea light shining from within. “It’s all of you. My pack.”“Oh.”“You sound disappointed.”I shrugged. “I’m not. It’s just… you always talk about pack and packand pack.” I scrunched up my face. “I guess it makes sense.”“I’m glad you think so.”“Is it the same for Mom?”“Yes. Or at least it was. Tethers can change over time. Like people, theyevolve. Where it once might have been the idea of pack, it’s become morepointed. More focused. For her, it’s her sons.You and Kelly and Joe. Itstarted with you and grew because of Kelly and Joe. She would do anythingfor you.”Fire burned in my chest, safe and warm. “Mine won’t ever change.”My father looked at me curiously. “Why?”“Because I won’t let it.”“You sound as if you already know what it is.”“’Cause I do.”He leaned forward, taking my hands in his. “Will you tell me?”I looked up at him, too young to understand the depths of my love forhim. All I knew was that my father was here and asking me something thatfelt important, something just between us. A secret. “You can’t tell anyone.”His lips twitched. “Not even Mom?”I frowned. “Well, she’s okay, I guess. But not anyone else!”“I swear,” he said, and since he was an Alpha, I knew he meant it.I said, “Kelly. It’s Kelly.”He closed his eyes. His throat clicked as he swallowed. “Why?”“Because he needs me.”“That’s not—”“And I need him.”He opened his eyes. I thought I saw a flash of red. “Tell me.”“He’s not like Joe. Joe’s gonna be Alpha, and he’ll be big and stronglike you, and everyone will listen to him because he’ll know what to do.You’ll tell him. But Kelly is always going to be a Beta like me. We’re thesame.”“I’ve noticed.”I needed him to understand. “When I have bad dreams, he doesn’t makefun of me and tells me everything is going to be okay. When he hurt hisknee and it took a long time to heal, I cleaned it up for him and told him itwas okay to cry, even though we’re boys. Boys can cry too.”“They can,” my father whispered.“And I think about him all the time,” I told him. “When I feel sad ormad, I think about him and I feel better. That’s what tethers do, right? Theymake you happy. Kelly makes me happy.”“He’s your brother.”“It’s more than that.”“How?”I was frustrated. I didn’t know how to put the thoughts in my head intowords. Words that would show him just how far it went. Finally, I said,“It’s… he’s everything.”For a moment I thought I’d said the wrong thing. My father was staringat me strangely, and I squirmed. But instead of a rebuke, he pulled metoward him, and it was like I was a cub again as I turned around, settlingbetween his legs, my back against his chest. He wrapped his arms aroundme, his chin on the top of my head. I breathed him in, and in the back of mymind, a voice that had once been weak whispered as strong as I’d everheard it.packpackpack“You surprise me,” my father said. “Every day you surprise me. I’m solucky to have someone such as you as mine. Never, ever forget that. And ifyou say your tether is Kelly, then so it shall be. You’ll be a good wolf,Carter. And I can’t wait to see the man you’ll become. No matter where Iam, no matter what has happened, I’ll remember this gift you’ve given me.Thank you for sharing your secret. I’ll keep it safe.”“But you’re not going anywhere, right?”He laughed again, and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he wassmiling all the way up to his eyes. “No. I’m not going anywhere. Not for avery long time.”We stayed there, under a tree in the refuge outside of Caswell, Maine,for what felt like hours.Just the two of us.And when we finally went home, Kelly was waiting for us on the porch,gnawing on his bottom lip. He lit up when he saw me and almost tripped ashe ran down the stairs. He managed to stay upright, and he tackled me intothe grass as our father watched. He threw his hands up over his head as hehowled in triumph, a cracked thing that didn’t sound anything like the otherwolves.I grinned up at him. “Wow. You’re so strong!”He poked my nose. “You were gone forever. I got bored. Why did ittake so long?”“I’m here now,” I told him. “And I won’t leave you again.”“Promise?”“Yeah. I promise.”And as I hugged my tether close, listening to him talk excitedly in myear about how Joe had stuck two Cheerios up his nose and how Mom hadgotten mad when Uncle Mark had laughed, I told myself it was a promiseI’d always keep. “JESUS f*ckING CHRIST,” I snapped. “Do you have to follow meeverywhere? Dude. Seriously. Back off.”The timber wolf glared at me.I tilted my head, listening.Everyone was in the house. I could hear Mom and Jessie laughing aboutsomething in the kitchen.I jerked my head toward the woods.The timber wolf huffed out a breath.I ran.He followed.I laughed when he nipped at my heels, urging me on, and in my head, Ipretended I could hear his wolf voice saying faster faster faster must runfaster so i can chase so i can catch you so i can eat you.We went deep into the forest, bypassing the clearing, heading for thefurthest reaches of our territory. The wolf never ran ahead, always staying atmy side, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.We ran for miles, the scent of spring so green I could taste it.Eventually I stopped, chest heaving, muscles burning from exertion.I collapsed on the ground spread-eagled as the wolf paced around me,head raised, sniffing the air, ears twitching. When he decided there was nothreat, he lay down beside me, head on my chest, tail curled over my legs.He huffed out an annoyed breath in my face.I rolled my eyes. “Have to keep up appearances. I’ve got a reputation tomaintain. You know how much sh*t I would get if anyone found out?” Iflicked his forehead.He growled, baring his teeth.“Yeah, yeah. And I wasn’t exactly lying. You do follow me everywhere.A man has got to be able to sh*t in peace without an overgrown dogscratching at the door. You don’t see me staring at you when you’resquatting in the backyard.”He closed his eyes.I flicked him again. “Don’t ignore me.”He opened one eye. For something that wasn’t exactly human, hecertainly could get his exasperation across.“Whatever, man. I’m just saying.”He sneezed on me.“f*cking asshole,” I muttered, wiping my face. “Just you wait. You’llget yours. Kibble. I’m going to make sure you only get kibble from here onout.”Thick clouds passed by overhead. I laughed when a dragonfly landedbetween his ears, causing them to flatten. The translucent wings flutteredbefore it flew away.He was a heavy weight upon me.Once I thought it crushing.Now it felt like an anchor holding me in place.It should have bothered me more than it did.He grunted, a question without words, his breath hot on my chestthrough my thin shirt.“Same old, same old. Who, how, why. You know how it is.”Who are you?How did you come to be this way?Why can’t you shift back?Questions I’d asked over and over again.He grumbled, lips pulling back over his teeth.“I know, dude. It’s whatever, you know? You’ll figure it out whenyou’re ready. Just… maybe that could be sooner rather than later? I mean,would it be so bad if you—stop growling at me, you dick! Oh, f*ck you,man. Don’t take that tone with me.”He moved his head, nosing at my arm.I ignored him.He pressed harder, more insistent.I sighed. “You’re spoiled. That’s what’s wrong here. You think you’vegot it good. And you do. Maybe too good.” But I did what he wanted,resting my hand on top of his head, scratching the backs of his ears.He closed his eyes again as he settled.We were drifting, just the two of us. The world around us turned hazy,the edges like a dream. Hours passed by, and sometimes we dozed, andsometimes we just… were.I said, “You can, you know?”I said, “If you want to.”I said, “I don’t know what happened to you.”I said, “I don’t know where you came from or what you had to dealwith.”I said, “But you’re safe here.”I said, “You’re safe with us. With me. We can help you. Ox… he’s agood Alpha. Joe too. They could be yours, if you wanted.”I said, “And then maybe I could hear your voice. I mean, totally nohom*o, but I think it’d be… nice.”He was shaking.I looked at him, thinking something was wrong.It wasn’t.The motherf*cker was laughing at me.I shoved him off me. “Asshole.”He rolled over on his back, legs in the air, body wiggling as hescratched himself on the ground. Then he fell to his side, mouth open in aferocious yawn.“Would it be so bad?” I whispered. “Shifting back? You can’t stay thisway forever. You can’t lose yourself to your wolf. You’ll forget how to findyour way home.”He turned his head away from me.I’d pushed enough for the day. I could always try again tomorrow. Wehad time.I sat up, stretching my arms above my head.His tail thumped on the ground.“Okay, so where did we leave off last time? Oh. Right. So, Ox and Joedecided it was time for them to mate. Which, honestly, I try not to thinkabout because that’s my little brother, you know? And if I do think about it,it makes me want to punch Ox in the mouth because that’s my little brother.But what the f*ck do I know, right? So, Ox and Joe… well. You know.Bone. And it was weird and oh so gross, because I could feel it. Oh, shut up,I didn’t mean like that. I meant I could feel it when their mate bond formed.We all could. It was like this… this light. Burning in all of us. Mom saidshe’s never heard of a pack having two Alphas before, but it made sensethat it happened with us because of how crazy we already are. Ox is… well.He’s Ox, right? Werewolf Jesus. And then he and Joe came out of thehouse, and I never want to smell that on my little brother ever again. It waslike he’d rolled in spunk, and Kelly and I were gagging because what thef*ck? We gave him so much sh*t for it. That… that was a good day.”I glanced down at him.He was watching me with violet eyes.“And that’s how it ended. At least the first part. There’s still Mark andGordo to—”His tail twitched dangerously. His body tensed.My hand stilled. “Why do you get like that every time I bring upGordo? I know you’re an Omega and all and you’ve probably got evilLivingstone magic in you, but it’s not his fault. You really need to get overwhatever the hell is wrong with you. Gordo’s good people. I mean, yeah,he’s a dick, but so are you. You guys have more in common than you think.Sometimes you even make the same facial expressions.”He snapped at me.I laughed and fell back against the grass, hands behind my head. “Fine.Be that way. We don’t have to talk about it today. There’s alwaystomorrow.”We stayed there, just the two of us, until the sky began to streak withred and orange. AS I SAT BEHIND my dead father’s desk for the last time on a cold wintermorning, I wondered what he would think of me.He told me once that difficult decisions must be made with a level head.It was the only way to make sure they were right.The house was quiet. Everyone was gone.My father was a proud man. A strong man. There was a time when Ithought he could do no wrong, that he was absolute in his power, allknowing.But he wasn’t.For someone such as him, an Alpha wolf from a long line of wolves, hewas terribly human in the mistakes he made, the people he’d hurt, theenemies he’d trusted.Ox.Joe.Gordo.Mark.Richard Collins.Osmond.Michelle Hughes.Robert Livingstone.He was wrong about all of them. The things he’d done.And yet… he was still my father.I loved him.If I tried hard enough, if I really tried, I could almost smell himembedded in the bones of this house, in the earth of this territory that hadseen so much death.I loved him.But I hated him too.I thought that was what it meant to be a son: to believe in someone somuch that it caused blindness to all their faults until it didn’t. ThomasBennett wasn’t infallible. He wasn’t perfect. I could see that now.Days ago, I was on a ledge.Below me was a void.I hesitated. But I thought I’d already been falling for a long time. I justhadn’t realized it.That final step came easier than I expected it to. I’d already prepared.Drained my bank accounts. Packed my bags. Prepared to do what I thoughtI had to.Which led me to this. Now.This moment when I knew nothing would ever be the same.I looked at the computer monitor on the desk.I saw a version of myself staring back, one I didn’t recognize. ThisCarter had dead eyes and black circles underneath them. This Carter hadlost weight, his cheekbones more pronounced. This Carter had bloodlessskin. This Carter knew what it meant to lose something so precious and yetwas about to make things worse. This Carter had taken hit after hit after hit,and for what?This Carter was a stranger.And yet he was me.My hand shook as I settled it on the mouse, knowing if I didn’t do thisnow, I would never do it.And that’s the point, my father whispered. You are a wolf, but you’restill human. You give all you can, and yet you still bleed. Why would youmake it worse? Why would you do this to yourself? To your pack? To him?Him.Because it always came back to him.I thought it always would.Which is why when I hit the little icon on the screen to start recording,his name was the first thing from my lips.“Kelly, I….”And oh, the things I could say. The sheer magnitude of everything hewas to me. My mother told me when I was young that I would never forgetmy first love. That even when all seemed dark, when all was lost, therewould be the little pulsing light of memory stored deeply away.She’d been talking about a faceless girl.Or boy.She hadn’t known that I’d already met my first love.My throat was raw.I was so very tired.“I love you more than anything in this world. Please remember that. Iknow this is going to hurt, and I’m sorry. But I have to do this.”I looked away, unable to watch this broken man speak any more than Ihad to.“You see, there was this boy. And he’s the best thing that ever happenedto me. He gave me the courage to stand for what I believe in, to fight forthose I care about. He taught me the strength of love and brotherhood. Hemade me a better person.”I tried to smile to let him know I was okay. It stretched wide on myface, foreign and harsh, before it cracked and broke.“You, Kelly,” I said hoarsely. “Always you. You’re the best thing that’sever happened to me.”I looked out the window. There was frost on the glass. Snow wasbeginning to fall. “You’re my first memory. Mom was holding you, and Iwanted to take you for myself, hide you away so no one would hurt you.” Itwas fuzzy, the edges frayed like it’d been nothing but a dream. My motherwas wearing sweats, her face free of makeup. Her skin looked soft andglowing. She was speaking quietly, but her words were lost to me, a quietmurmur that disappeared at the sight of who she held.A tiny hand reached up, the fingers opening and closing.And there, in the recesses of my mind, I heard her speak four words thatchanged everything about who I was.She said, “Look. He knows you.”I didn’t understand then the earthquake this caused within me.I poked his fat little cheek, marveling at the way his skin dimpled.He blinked up at me, eyes bright and blue, blue, blue.He made a noise. A little squawk.And I was reborn.“You’re my first love,” I said in this empty room, lost in the memory ofhow his hand had wrapped so carefully around my finger. “I knew thatwhen you would always smile when you saw me, and it was like staringinto the sun.”I swallowed thickly, looking away from the window.“You’re my heart,” I told him, knowing there was a chance he’d neverforgive me. “You are my soul. I love Mom. She taught me kindness. I loveDad. He taught me how to be a good wolf. I love Joe. He taught me thatstrength comes from within.”My breath hitched in my chest, but I pushed through it. He needed tohear this from me. He needed to know why. “But you were my greatestteacher. Because with you I understood life. What it meant to love someoneso blindingly and without reservation. To have a purpose. To have hope. Ihave been a big brother for most of my life, and it’s the best thing I evercould be. Without you, I would be nothing.”It hurt to breathe. “I know you’re going to be angry. But I hope youunderstand, at least a little bit.” I looked back at the screen. “Because I havethis hole in my chest. This void. And I know why. It’s because of him.”Leave. Withyou. I’ll. Go. With you. Don’t. Don’t touch. Them.“I have to find him, Kelly. I have to find him because I think withouthim, there’s always going to be part of me that feels like I’m incomplete. Ishould have listened to you more when Robbie was gone. I should havefought harder. I didn’t understand then. I do now, and I’m sorry. I’m sosorry. Maybe he’ll want nothing to do with me. Maybe he’ll….”No. Stay. Back. Don’t want. This. Don’t want. Pack. Don’t want.Brother. Don’t want. You. Child. You are. A child. I am not. Like you. I amnot. Pack.“I have to try,” I pleaded in this empty room. “And I know Ox and Joeand all the others are looking for him, for the both of them, but it’s notenough. Kelly, he saved us. I see that now. He saved us all. And I have to dothe same for him. I have to.”Blood rushed in my ears. My vision was narrowing. There was a heavyweight on my chest, and I couldn’t catch my breath.I said, “I made you a promise once. I told you that I would always comeback for you. I meant it then and I mean it now. I will always come back foryou. No matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing, I’ll be thinking ofyou and imagining the day I get to see you again. I don’t know when that’sgoing to be, but after you kick my ass, after you scream and yell at me,please hug me like you’re never going to let me go because I won’t everwant you to.”I tried to say more, tried to continue, but the weight was crushing me,and I bowed my head, claws digging into the surface of the desk. “f*ck. Ican’t breathe. I can’t—”My shoulders shook.I gave in to it. My eyes burned as I choked on a sob.I had to finish this while I still could.It already felt like it was too late. For me. For him.For all of us.“Remember something for me, okay? When the moon is full and brightand you’re singing for all the world to hear, I’ll be looking up at the samemoon, and I’ll be singing right back to you. For you. Always you.”I wiped my eyes. The screen was blurry, and the stranger staring back atme looked haunted and lost. “I love you, little brother, even more than I canput down in words. You’ve got to be brave for me. Keep Joe honest. GiveOx sh*t. Teach Rico how to be a wolf. Show Chris and Tanner the depths ofyour heart. Hug Mom and Mark. Tell Gordo to lighten up. Have Jessie kickanyone’s ass who steps out of line. And love Robbie like it’s the last thingyou’ll ever do.”And ah, god, there was still so much I had to say, so much I’d never toldhim, so much he needed to hear from me. That the only reason I was a goodperson was because of him. That our father would be proud of who he’dbecome. That when I’d been lost to the Omega, feeling it clawing at me,threatening to pull me down into an ocean of violet, I’d held on with all mymight to the ragged remains of my tether, refusing to let it go, refusing to letit be taken from me.I am alive because of you, I wanted to say.But I didn’t.I said, “I will come back for you, and nothing will hurt us ever again.”I said, “I’ll be seeing you, okay?”And that was it.That was all.A lifetime broken down into a few minutes of begging my pack tounderstand the terrible choice I was about to make.I stopped the recording.I thought about deleting it.Just… deleting it and forgetting about all of this.It would be so easy.I’d delete it, and then I’d stand up. I’d leave the office. I’d sit on thesteps on the porch until someone came home, and I’d tell them what I’ddone and what I was about to do. Maybe it’d be Mom. She’d be smiling atthe sight of me, but that smile would fade when she saw the look on myface. She’d rush forward, and I would tell her everything. That I thought Iwas losing my mind, that I didn’t know what Gavin was, not until it was toolate. That I should have fought harder for him, that I should have told himthat he couldn’t leave with Robert Livingstone, he couldn’t leave with hisfather, he couldn’t leave me. Not when I understood. Not when I knew nowwhat I should have known a long time ago.Or maybe it’d be Kelly. Maybe he’d know something was wrong.Dust would be kicking up from the tires of his cruiser, the light baracross the top flashing, the siren wailing. He’d throw open the door, thelook on his face a mixture of worry and anger.“What are you doing?” he’d demand.“I don’t know,” I’d reply. “I’m lost, Kelly. I don’t know what’shappening, I don’t know what’s going on, please, please, please save me.Please tie me down so I can never leave you. Please don’t let me do this.Please don’t let me leave. Scream at me. Hit me. Destroy me. I love you, Ilove you, I love you.”I saved the video instead.I stood up.It was now or never.Before I left the office, I looked back once.For a moment I thought I saw my father standing behind his desk, handstretched toward me.I blinked.There was nothing there.A trick of the light.I closed the door for the last time. AND YET….I hesitated on the porch, duffel bag at my feet.I told myself it was because I was taking it in. This place. Our territory.A last few breaths of home for whatever lay ahead.But I was a liar.I looked down the dirt road, snow falling in flurries and clinging to thetrees. No one came.And still I waited.One minute turned into two, turned into three, into seven.When ten minutes had passed, I knew it was now or never. I had stalledlong enough.I picked up my bag.Stepped off the porch.And went to my truck.I climbed inside and closed the door behind me.I stared up at the house.I imagined Kelly was with me, sitting in the passenger seat.He said, “Hold on to me.”He said, “As tightly as you can.”He said, “I know it hurts.”He said, “I know what it feels like.”My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I know you do.”I sighed and reached over to my bag. I unzipped a small pocket on theside and pulled out a photograph. I touched the frozen, smiling faces of mybrothers before putting it on the dashboard behind the steering wheel.And then I left. AS SOON AS I’D GOTTEN FAR ENOUGH AWAY, I stopped.I gathered the last of my strength.I found the bonds within me, bright and alive and strong.Could I do this?I found out I could.It was easier than I expected, slicing through them. At least at first. Itwasn’t until the end that I opened the door of the truck and vomited onto theground, my face slick with sweat.I gagged as the bonds faded.My mouth was sour. I spit onto the ground.“Kelly,” I muttered. “Kelly, Kelly, Kelly.”It was enough.The tether.It was enough.I pulled myself back up and looked into the rearview mirror. Thestranger stared back. I flashed my eyes.Orange.Still orange.I closed the door.Took a breath.I looked at the road ahead.There wasn’t another car for as far as I could see.I pulled back onto the road.A few minutes later I passed a sign telling me I was leaving GreenCreek, Oregon, and to come back soon!I would.That was a promise.like this/got youIt went like this:I was born.I didn’t remember.I was one.I didn’t remember.I was two.I didn’t remember.And then I did.Because my mother was there, and she was sitting in a chair. She wastired but smiling. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and her skinlooked soft.She said, “Carter, would you like to meet your brother?”He had been in her stomach. And now he was here.My father stood in the doorway, watching us.I didn’t remember anything else. How I’d gotten into the room. WhereI’d been before. What I’d been doing. It didn’t matter. This was big.Big big.My father said, “Be careful.”There was a wrinkled pink thing in my mother’s arms. It had a nose anda mouth and squinty eyes. It yawned.“Mine?” I asked.“Yes,” my mother said. “Yours. Ours.”“Mine,” I said again, and I tried to take the pink thing from her. Iwanted to take it away, to hide it so no one else could touch what was mine.My father said, “No, Carter, no. You’re too little. You could hurt him.”“No hurt,” I said. “No hurt.”“Yes,” my mothersaid. “That’s right. No hurt. We don’t hurt him. Wedon’t hurt Kelly.”“Kelly,” I said for the first time.“Your brother,” my father said.“Kelly, Kelly, Kelly.”He looked up at me.He reached for me.“Mine,” I whispered. IT WENT LIKE THIS:There was yelling.Gordo was yelling.My father was yelling.My mother was crying.Kelly was in his crib, and his arms were waving.“Kelly,” I said. I pushed a chair toward the crib. It was hard. I was little.I climbed on top of the chair as Kelly began to wail. I climbed over the barsof the crib. My father said I was a good climber.I was careful.I wouldn’t hurt my brother.I climbed into the crib and lowered myself next to him.I lay down beside him and put my hands over his ears because I was awolf, and he was a wolf, and we heard things others could not. It was veryloud.Gordo was screaming.My father was begging.My mother sounded like she was choking.“Kelly,” I said, and he punched me in the head. It was an accident. Itdidn’t hurt.I remembered what my mother did when he was like this. “There,there,” I said, petting his cheek. “There, there.”He stopped crying.He looked at me with wet eyes.I kissed his nose.He smiled. IT WENT LIKE THIS:Boxes.So many boxes.Everything packed up.“We’re leaving,” my father said.“Why?” I asked.“Because we have to.”“Why?” I asked.“Because it’s what we must do.”“Why?” I asked.“I don’t have a choice.”“Why?” I asked.That was the day I learned even my father could cry. IT WENT LIKE THIS:“Gordo?”He looked at me. He wasn’t like he was before. He didn’t talk. Hedidn’t smile. I stuck my tongue out at him because it always made himlaugh.He didn’t.He said, “You can’t forget me.”I said, “Forget?”He said, “You can’t.”I didn’t understand. IT WENT LIKE THIS:I was watching through the window.Uncle Mark and Gordo were on the porch.“Please,” Mark said.“f*ck you,” Gordo said.“I don’t want this.”“Yet here you are.”“I’ll come back for you.”“I don’t believe you.”That was the day I learned I could taste what I smelled.It was like the entire forest was on fire. IT WENT LIKE THIS:There were skips and jumps. Holes in memory, the edges frayed andragged. I was two and three and then I was six, six, six, and Kelly said,“Carter!”We were sitting in the grass in front of a house. There was a lake behindus. Mom said we couldn’t go to the lake without her because we coulddrown. She was on the porch, her hand on her stomach. Mom and Dad toldme there was another baby in there. I didn’t know why. They already hadme and Kelly.Mark was gone, hiding in the woods. He was always in the woods. Dadsaid he was brooding. Mom said they made Mark that way. My father neversaid he was brooding again after that.I didn’t know what brooding meant, but it didn’t sound good.“Carter,” Kelly said again, and I looked up at him.He was wearing shorts. It was summer. His face was sticky, and his hairwas messy, and he was grinning at me. There was a hole in the dirt in frontof him where he’d been digging. I told him it was the biggest hole I’d everseen.He looked down at it, then back up at me. “Biggest?”“Yes. You’re a good digger.”“Good digger,” he agreed.Boys came. Other wolves. Cubs.One said, “Carter, come play with us.”I said “Okay” and “Sure” and “Can Kelly come too?”And the boy said, “No. He’s just a baby. Babies are stupid.”Kelly cried.I tackled the boy for making my brother cry.Mom pulled me off him.His nose was bleeding.“Carter,” Mom said, “what on earth do you think you’re doing?”“Kelly isn’t stupid,” I snarled at the boy as he pushed himself up fromthe ground. I tried to go after him again, but Mom held me back.“I’m telling!” the boy shouted before he ran away, the other cubschasing after him.Mom turned me around, her face near mine. She was frowning. “Wedon’t hit other people.”“He said Kelly was stupid.”“Be that as it may, we don’t hit. It’s not nice.”She was wrong. I didn’t say that out loud, but I thought it. I thought ithard. She was wrong, because if anyone called Kelly stupid, I woulddefinitely hit them. I would hit them as hard as I could. I would hit themuntil they couldn’t say those words anymore.I said, “Oh.”“Yes. Oh. You have to think before you act. You can’t use your fists tosolve all your problems.” Then she grimaced, her hand going to herstomach as she stood upright. “Someone woke up. Oof.”The baby in her belly.I didn’t care about that baby.It wasn’t real yet.“Carter,” Kelly sniffled, and I went to him.I picked him up. I was very strong.He laid his head on my shoulder, and since I didn’t want to get introuble again, I promised in my head that no one would call him stupidagain.“Dig with me?” he asked. “Biggest hole?”I said, “Okay,” and that’s what we did. It was better than playing withother cubs. IT WENT LIKE THIS:Dad said our brother was coming soon. That we needed to be good andquiet so Mom could focus.“She’ll need all her strength,” he said, kneeling down before me andKelly. Kelly reached up and touched his face, and Dad snapped his teeth atKelly’s fingers, causing him to laugh. “She’s being very brave. Can you bebrave too?”“Brave,” Kelly agreed.“Stay here with Uncle Mark. When it’s over, I’ll come back and takeyou to meet him.”And then he was gone.Mark said, “It’ll take a long time.”“Long time,” Kelly said, because he repeated everything everyone saidall the time. It was annoying except when he did it to me.Mark said, “But she’ll be okay.”“Okay,” Kelly said.Mark smiled, but he looked like a ghost.It took a very long time.We got tired of waiting, and when Mark put us to bed, I had forgottenall about it. Mark said Kelly and I could sleep in the same bed, and Kellyhad toothpaste in the corner of his mouth.We lay facing each other, our heads on the same pillow.Mark kissed my cheek.Mark kissed Kelly’s cheek.“Good night, little cubs,” he said.Kelly yawned.Mark left the door open and the light in the hall on.The sky outside was dark.“Carter?” Kelly said.“What?”“Do we have to have a little brother?”I didn’t know. I said, “I think so.”“Oh. Can I hold him?”“Maybe. You might have to wait.”“Why?”“Because babies are fragile,” I said, remembering the words of myfather. “They’re little and fragile.”“What’s fragile?”I had no idea. “It means gross.”His nose wrinkled. “Like farts.”I laughed. I’d taught him that word. Mom and Dad hadn’t been happywith me. “Yeah, he’s a fart.”“Fart, fart, fart,” Kelly said. And then he closed his eyes. “I don’t knowif I like little brothers.”“I do,” I told him. “I like little brothers a lot.”But he was already asleep.I kept my eyes open for as long as I could because Dad was with Momand Kelly needed me to protect him. I wasn’t an Alpha, but I could pretend.“I have red eyes,” I whispered in the dark. “And I’m big and strong.”I didn’t remember falling asleep. IT WENT LIKE THIS:“His name is Joe,” my mother said.“Joseph Bennett,” my father said. “Your little brother.”“Joe,” Kelly whispered in awe.I wasn’t happy about it.Then I saw him.And I knew him for what he was.What he would be.I said, “Alpha.”My mother was startled.My father took a step forward. “What was that, Carter?”“Alpha,” I said again, and my voice was filled with so much wonder, Ithought I would float away.“How do you know?” my father asked.I shrugged.Mom and Dad looked at each other for a long time. Then, “Yes,” myfather said. “Yes. Joe will be an Alpha. Can I tell you a secret aboutAlphas?”Kelly and I turned to him. This was important. I knew what that wordmeant now. Alphas had many secrets, and when they shared one, it wasimportant.Dad crouched down before us. He took our hands in his. He said, “AnAlpha is a leader. But we cannot lead alone. He will look to you, to both ofyou, for guidance. He can be nothing without his brothers. You will be hispack, and you’ll make him strong. You matter just as much as he does.Therewill come a time when weight will be placed upon the color of hiseyes, but you mean just as much. You cannot make red without orange. Doyou understand?”We both nodded, though we had no idea what he was talking about.Joe cried.We went to him.Kelly touched his cheek.I kissed his hand.“There is no one like him,” our mother whispered. “But there is also noone like each of you. You are all special in your own way. I believe in you.”She looked down at Joe, a tired smile on her face. “I believe in all of you.” IT WENT LIKE THIS:Joe grew.I found my tether.I shifted.The pain was exquisite, and Iam wolfsmellsmell everythingrun fast run fast run run runhunt i want to hunt andfather wolfmother wolfjoe laughs he’s laughing he says you’re so pretty carter you’re so prettyi’m not prettyi’m amazingkelly sayswowkelly sayslook at youkelly saysyou’re so bigkelly says stop licking me carter stop licking me stop lickingi don’t stopi never stop andThe day came when Dad took Kelly away.“You don’t have to worry,” Mom said. She sounded like she was tryingnot to laugh. I glared at her, but she kissed my forehead and ruffled my hair.“Why is Carter worried?” Joe asked when she went back inside, leavingme on the porch. “Kelly’s with Dad.”“Because it’s a big day,” Mom said as I paced back and forth.They were gone for hours. By the time they came back, I was about tocrawl out of my skin.Kelly was grinning.I ran down the porch and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Did you doit?” I demanded. “Did you figure it out?”He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. But it’s a secret.”I scowled at him. “I told you mine!”He laughed at me.Dad was watching the two of us. He looked like he was going to saysomething but shook his head instead. “Who’s hungry?”But before he could follow us into the house, a man appeared. I didn’tlike him. He made my skin itch.“Osmond,” Dad said.Osmond glanced dismissively at us before looking back at Dad. “Weneed to speak.”“Can it wait until tomorrow? We’re about to have dinner.”“It needs to be now.”Dad sighed. “All right.” He looked at us. “Go inside. I’ll be backshortly.”I watched them walk away.“Let’s go!” Kelly said from the porch.That night there was a knock at my door. It opened slightly, and Kellystuck his head in. “Stop jerking off.”“f*ck you,” I whispered, loud enough so he could hear but not so loudthat Mom or Dad could.He snickered and stepped into my room, then closed the door behindhim. He came to the bed, motioning for me to scoot over.“You have your own bed,” I grumbled.“Yeah, yeah, move your fat ass.”I hit him in the face with a pillow.He laughed before lying down next to me, stretching out his arms andlegs. I heard his back pop before he relaxed, leg over mine.I waited.He said, “It’s you.”I could barely breathe. “What is?”“You know what.”I did, and I wanted to howl and shake the house to its foundations. “Areyou sure?”“Yeah, dude. I’m sure.”“Oh.” Then, “Why?”He turned his head to look at me. His eyes glittered in the dark. He said,“Why am I your tether?”“Because you’re my brother.”“So is Joe.”“You were here first.”He huffed out a breath. “I’ve known. For a long time.”“But you never said anything.”He shrugged. “I thought it was obvious.”It made me nervous. Nothing so monumental had ever made me feel sosmall. “Tethers can change.”“It won’t.”“You don’t know that.”He said, “I do. It doesn’t matter what happens. If I get a mate—”“Ew.”“Shut up. You know what I mean.”“That’s pretty gay, dude.”He thumped me on the chest. “Don’t say that. It’s not nice.”“Right. Sorry. I….” I was at a loss for words.“Is that okay?” he asked quietly. He sounded unsure.I couldn’t have that. “Yeah. It’s okay.”We were quiet for a little while, just breathing in and out.Then he said, “Tether bros. That’s what we are. Couple of tether bros.”And it was like we were little again, only the two of us, and we werelaughing, laughing, laughing, trying to keep our voices down but failingmiserably. Dad walked by the door and paused, and we covered eachother’s mouths with our hands. His breath was hot against my palm and itwas gross, but I didn’t pull away.Dad moved on.Eventually we got ourselves under control.I was drifting off to sleep when Kelly said, “It was always going to beyou.” IT WENT LIKE THIS:“Joe!” I screamed into the woods. It was raining and dark, and lightningflashed overhead. “Joe!”I couldn’t find him.“Carter?” Kelly asked. He was wet and miserable, and his grip on myhand was so strong I thought my bones would turn to dust. “We have to goback.”“No,” I snapped at him, feeling guilty when his face crumpled. “Wecan’t. We have to find him.”I was fifteen years old, and a monster had taken our little brother away.“Joe!” I shouted again.Nothing.“Joe!” Kelly yelled. “Where are you, Joe!”I wanted to shift so I could smell him, but Mom and Dad said I couldn’tshift without them there. I had my tether, and he had me, but it still wasn’tsafe. There were all sorts of things in the woods.But Joe was gone, and no one knew where he was. It’d only been threedays, but I had failed him. Mom and Dad said I had to protect him, and Ifailed.We went deeper into the woods.Dad found us eventually.“What are you doing?” he roared at us. His eyes were red.We cowered. I shoved Kelly behind me as he whimpered.Our father fell to his knees. He held out his arms.We ran to him.“I’m sorry,” he said, holding us tightly. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t findyou, and I was frightened. I didn’t mean to be so loud. I didn’t mean toscare you. What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be in bed.”“We gotta find Joe,” Kelly said.“Oh,” my father said. “Oh, oh, oh.”That was the second time I ever saw my father cry. IT WENT LIKE THIS:Joe came back.But he wasn’t the same.He looked like the same Joe. He had all his fingers and toes. He had allhis teeth. His nose was still there, and his knees were still knobby.But there was nothing behind his eyes.They were dark, as if a light had gone out.I took him everywhere.I carried him in the house.I carried him in the woods.I carried him around the lake.Dad said, “Here, Carter, let me have him.”He reared back when I snarled at him, eyes flashing, fangs dropping.“Don’t,” I snapped at him. “Don’t, don’t, don’t.”My father stepped back slowly.I carried him away.I said, “Hey, Joe. Look at the birds.”I said, “Hey, Joe. Look at that bug.”I said, “Hey, Joe. Are you hungry?”I said, “Hey, Joe. Wanna hear a joke?”I said, “Hey, Joe. Can you please say my name?”But Joe never spoke.“He’s been scooped out,” Kelly told me as Joe lay between us. His eyeswere closed, and he was breathing deeply.“Shut up,” I hissed at him, and I felt a twist of remorse when heflinched. “It’s not—he could hear you.”“Sorry,” Kelly muttered, but before he could turn away, I grabbed hishand over Joe, laying it on Joe’s chest above his heart. I pressed down. Icould feel the beat through Kelly’s hand. It was slow and steady.“What do we do?” Kelly whispered.“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “But we stay together. The three ofus. No matter what.”Kelly nodded.He fell asleep before I did, his hand still on Joe’s chest.I was about to follow when Joe’s heartbeat started tripping andstuttering. He made a wounded noise that sounded broken. I pressed Kelly’shand down harder against his chest and put my mouth near his ear.I said, “You’re here. We’re with you. You’re safe. You’re home. Wewon’t let anything happen to you again. We’re your big brothers. We’llprotect you. We’ll always be here for you. I love you, I love you, I loveyou.”Joe’s heart slowed.The lines on his forehead disappeared.His mouth untwisted.He sighed and turned his face toward me.I watched him for a long time. IT WENT LIKE THIS:Boxes.All these boxes.As I stood among them, I heard voices coming from up the stairs.And it was then I learned the sins of my father.“Are you sure?”Mark asked Dad.“Yes.”“Have you…. Did you call Gordo?”Dad sighed. “No.”“He won’t like it that we’re coming back.”“It’s not his territory,” Dad growled. Then, “sh*t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’thave—”“It’s too late for what you should or shouldn’t have done,” Mark said,sounding angrier than I’d ever heard him. “You really think that he’s goingto welcome us back with open arms? That you won’t have to face him?Green Creek is small, Thomas. You’re going to run into him sooner ratherthan later.”“What do you want me to do?” Dad said, and sweat trickled down theback of my neck. “Tell me. Please. Just tell me what to do. Tell me what’sright. What should I have done? What should I do now? Should I have donemore to save Dad? Should I have been able to stop the hunters fromdestroying our pack? Or perhaps I should have been able to keep RobertLivingstone from murdering all those people. I’m sorry, Mark. I’m sorry foreverything I’ve done. All the mistakes I’ve made. Please. Tell me how to fixthis. Tell me what I should do so that my child doesn’t scream himselfawake because a man I once trusted shattered him into pieces before I couldfind him. You should have been my second. Not Richard. I should’ve neverlistened to Dad when he said that—”“f*ck you,” Mark said coldly. “I never gave a sh*t about that, and youknow it. We’re broken, Thomas. We’re broken, and I don’t know how to fixus. I followed you even when every part of me was screaming to let you gowithout me. I left my heart behind because you said it was for the greatergood. And for what? What has it gotten us? What kind of Alpha are youthat you can’t—”“Enough.”It rattled the walls.I couldn’t move.I couldn’t breathe.But Mark wasn’t finished. “What are you doing? Do you even know?You’re spiraling, Thomas. People are talking. They think that you’re notgoing to come back.”“We will.”“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll be coming alone.”“Fine. Then I will. Michelle is more than adequate. She’ll do well in mystead until I can figure things out again.” He sighed. “I need to put mychildren first. I need to put Joe first.”Mark laughed bitterly. “Oh, if only Dad could hear you now. What wasit he always said? For an Alpha, the needs of many outweigh the needs of afew. Pack and pack and pack.”“Don’t you think I know that?”“And what about Richard? It’s not over.”“I know that too.”“Do you? What happens if he comes again?”“I’ll tear his head from his shoulders,” my father snarled, Alpha fillinghis voice. “Let him come. It’ll be the last thing he ever does.”“We can’t keep doing this,” Mark said, and he was pleading with myfather. He was begging him. “We can’t go on this way. We’re destroyingourselves, and I don’t know how to stop it. I love you, but I hate you too forall that you’ve done.”My father didn’t respond.They were silent. I could imagine them on the other side of the wall,facing each other, arms crossed, never meeting each other’s gazes. Twostone statues, carved and unmoving.I was surprised when my father spoke first. “The family. In the bluehouse.”“What about them?”“The boy.”And Mark said, “Ox.”“Yes. You said… you met him. And his mother.”“In the diner. It was his birthday. He was… I don’t know. There’ssomething different about him. I don’t know how to explain it. It was likebeing struck by lightning. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”“Magic, maybe. A witch?”“No. I’ve never heard of Matheson witches.”“We’ll have to be careful. Having them so close…. It could bedangerous.”“Then you shouldn’t have sold the house.”I heard my father move.Mark said, “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”Dad said, “When you were little, I used to carry you on my shoulders.Do you remember?”“No.”“Lie. You would put your hands in my hair and tug until it hurt, but Inever stopped you.”“Get off me, get off me, get off—”“I never wanted this to happen,” my father whispered, voice muffled.“Any of this. I wasn’t ready. For all that it would entail. Being an Alpha,it’s….”“Hard,” Mark said begrudgingly.“Yeah. It is. And I’m not a very good one. It should have been you.”Mark sounded like he was choking. “Stop. Please. Stop.”“I know you hate me,” Dad said. “And you have every right. But I didwhat I thought was good for all of us. I thought Gordo would—”“Don’t. You don’t get to say his name.”“I thought he would be better off without us. That he would get to live alife free of—”“You abandoned him!” Mark cried. “You didn’t give him a choice! Getthe f*ck off me, you bastard. How dare you. I know what you did. I knowyou thought Livingstone did something to him, I know you thought it wasin his tattoos, so don’t you dare try and spin this away.”“How did you—did Lizzie say something to you?”“It doesn’t matter,” Mark retorted. “This isn’t about her or anyone else.This is about you. This is all on you. You always say we’re pack, but I don’tthink you have a goddamn clue what that actually means. f*ck you. f*ckthe Alpha of all.” He sucked in a sharp breath. Then, “Maybe it’s time forthe reign of the Bennetts to end.”“You can’t mean that—”“I do. I mean every word. Let Michelle stay in charge. Let Osmond beher lapdog. You say you want to put Joe and Kelly and Carter first, then thisis how you do it. Joe’s broken, Thomas. He’s broken. And believe me, Iknow what that feels like. You didn’t lift a f*cking finger to help me. Don’tdo the same to him.”Mark stormed out of the office. His footsteps were loud as he stalkeddown the steps. He didn’t even notice me as he left the house, slamming thefront door behind him.Above me, my father stood still.And all I felt from him was blue. IT WENT LIKE THIS:Mom was setting up her studio.Dad was putting books on the shelves.Mark was upstairs, locked in his room.Kelly and I were on the porch, his feet in my lap. He was reading. Iclosed my eyes, taking in the scents and sounds of the old-growth forestaround us. In the driveway in front of us were three cars. Two trucks. AnSUV. Two thirty-foot moving trucks. We were supposed to be moving morestuff in, but there was plenty of time for that later.And then a voice came, one I hadn’t heard in a very long time.He said, “Do you have your own room?”My chest hitched.Kelly sat up, eyes wet. “Is that—”“Shut up. Listen.”A deeper voice said, “Yes. It’s just me and my mom now.”“I’m sorry,” Joe said, and his voice was rough and gravelly.“For?”“For whatever just made you sad.”“I dream. Sometimes it feels like I’m awake. And then I’m not.”Mom and Dad burst out onto the porch just as Joe said, “You’re awakenow. Ox, Ox, Ox. Don’t you see?”“See what?”“We live so close to each other.”My father put his face in his hands. Deep within us all, crashing andcolliding, came three words.packpackpackThe shadows stretched as the afternoon waned.Mark came out onto the porch, demanding to know if that was Joe, wasthat Joe, was that—They appeared around the blue house.There, on the back of a large boy, was Joe, eyes alight.My father dropped his hands and took in a shuddering breath.We never looked away from Joe.From this stranger who watched us with wide, dark eyes.They stopped before us.“Mark?” the boy said.Mark smiled. “Ox. How lovely to see you again. I see you’ve made anew friend.”Joe dropped from Ox’s back, stepped to his side and took his hand,dragging him toward us. Something was shifting, and I didn’t know what. Itwas massive, and I was overwhelmed. It felt like the day Kelly was born.The day Joe came back to us.And Joe.Joe, Joe, Joe.He said, “Mom! Mom. You have to smell him! It’s like… like… I don’teven know what it’s like! I was walking in the woods to scope out ourterritory so I could be like Dad and then it was like… whoa. And then hewas all standing there and he didn’t see me at first because I’m getting sogood at hunting. I was all like rawr and grr but then I smelled it again and itwas him and it was all kaboom! I don’t even know! I don’t even know! Yougottasmell him and then tell me why it’s all candy canes and pinecones andepic and awesome.”We were all stunned into silence.We didn’t know then what he would become.Had I known, I would have done everything I could to push him away.To tell him that the Bennetts were cursed, that he should stay as far awayfrom us as possible. He was misunderstood. His daddy said he was going toget sh*t all his life. His mother, a woman underestimated in her own right,might have survived the coming of Richard Collins.What would he have become without the wolves?I thought about that a lot.Once, long after my father had returned to the moon, it was just Kellyand me. We were too old to be sleeping in the same bed, but here we wereall the same.He lay facing me, his knees bumping into mine.He said, “It’s all inevitable, isn’t it? Everything.”I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to tell him that there was no such thingas fate, that we could carve our own paths, that a name was nothing but aname.He knew what I was thinking. He knew what was in my head and heart.He said, “A rose by any other name….”I closed my eyes and dreamed of wolves running under the light of afull moon. IT WENT LIKE THIS:I was seven and Kelly said, “I want to be big like you.”I was three and my father picked me up in his arms, holding me close.I was ten and I chose my tether.I was twelve and Joe sat on my shoulders wearing a wolf costume ourmother had made for him because he wanted to be a wolf like me. We werewalking through the woods, Kelly’s hand in mine, Joe tugging on my hair,saying, “Faster, Carter, go faster.”I was four and Kelly took his first steps, reaching for me, alwaysreaching.I was eleven and the moon was calling me, it was singing, singing,singing, and my mother said, “Here, my son, here, let it wash over you, feelit calling. I won’t let it hurt you. I won’t let it take you away.”I was sixteen and close to murdering boys in a bathroom at school whodared put their hands on Ox.I was thirteen and Kelly shifted into a wolf for the first time, and we rantogether as fast as we could, the earth beneath our paws, the wind in our fur.I was twenty-three when a monster came to town and tore a hole in ourheads and hearts. My father died before I could get to him. The last thing heever said to me was “Protect your brothers with everything you have.”I was twenty-seven, bursting out of a bar filled with humans, clawspopping and fangs gnashing, and there was a wolf there, a timber wolfbigger than any I’d ever seen, and it came for me, it came for me, and themoment before we collided, the moment before its body struck mine, Ismelled something unlike anything I’d ever known before.And I burned.waiting for you/say my nameIt was dark.I was cold and stiff. My neck had a crick in it, and my head waspounding. I groaned and rubbed a hand over my face, trying to clear myhead. I pushed open the door to the truck and stumbled out. My knees wereweak, and I almost fell. I caught myself on the door.Before me was farmland. In the distance, set on a hill, was a house. Theporch light was on, but the windows were dark. I walked away from thetruck, my boots crunching against gravel. I unzipped my pants so I couldempty my bladder. I sighed as I looked up at the sky, the stars like chips ofice.Once I finished I went back to the truck, pulling my coat tighter aroundme. It was getting colder again. I didn’t know exactly where I was. Ithought I’d crossed into North Dakota before finally pulling over to getsome sleep. I’d gotten used to spending the night in the truck.I shut the door behind me.I was tired, but I knew I wouldn’t get any more sleep. The sun wouldrise soon, and I didn’t want to get caught here.I glanced at the picture on the dashboard. The edges had started to curl.I left it alone.I pulled my duffel bag across the seat. In the side pocket was a cheapphone, a burner I’d picked up before I left Green Creek. It was somethingGordo had taught me when we’d been on the road after Richard Collins. Idoubted he’d ever thought I’d have use for one again after we’d come back.I hit the Power button, stretching my neck as I waited for it to turn on. Iwinced against the bright light in the dark. It was just after five in themorning.I tried to ignore the date in the upper right corner, but it was almostimpossible.Saturday, November 6, 2021.It’d been eleven months since I’d recorded a video in a house at the endof a lane.And I had nothing to show for it.I dropped the phone back in my bag before I crushed it in my hand.After a moment’s hesitation, I reached over to the glove compartmentand popped it open. I told myself I was being stupid, that I’d just looked atthe contents the day before. They wouldn’t tell me anything new, and it waspointless to dwell on them.But they were all I had.I pulled out four pieces of paper, each featuring blocky words I’d longsince memorized.The top page—the last one I’d gotten a couple of weeks before in anothing town in Kentucky—read:STOP FOLLOWING ME. GO HOME ASSHOLE.“f*ck you,” I muttered. “You goddamn dick.”The other three notes were similar, each of them blunt and scathing,threatening me with bodily harm, telling me he wanted nothing to do withme. I closed my eyes, remembering the way he’d looked when he snarled atme, telling me I was nothing but a child, that he didn’t want anything to dowith me, that he wasn’t pack.His heart had held steady and true, but I still thought him a liar.Because I’d felt it when he’d stood before his father, a witch turnedimpossibly into an Alpha beast, one eye socket empty, the other red andblazing. I’d felt it when the bond that had stretched between us—a bond I’dbeen blind to—snapped in two.He had been one of us.He had been pack.And he’d given himself up to Robert Livingstone.To save us all.I couldn’t let that go.I couldn’t let him go.I owed it to him.To find him.To do whatever the hell it took to bring him back.I should have seen it for what it was. In the couple of years he was bymy side, all the times I’d scowled at him and snapped at him to leave methe f*ck alone, I should have seen it. From the moment I’d faced himoutside the Lighthouse when the hunters had come to Green Creek, I shouldhave known.The third note read:LEAVE ME ALONE. GO HOME OR I’LL HURT YOU.The second note read:I DON’T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU.The first note read:ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED?Though I fought against it, I smiled. I’d only heard him speak a fewwords, and they’d been grunted more than anything, but somehow, it fitwith who I thought he was. I wasn’t allowing myself to think of what hecould be to me. When I tried, my chest felt tight. We weren’t Ox and Joe.Or Kelly and Robbie. Or even Gordo and Mark, though the f*ck you vibewas apparently a family trait.Gavin.The brother of Gordo Livingstone.The son of Robert Livingstone.I put the notes back in the glove compartment, unable to look at themanymore.I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.Kelly was there in the dark. He smiled at me and held out his hand.Though it wasn’t real, I was grateful for it. I took his hand in mine, andfor a little while at least, I could pretend he was with me. That he didn’thate me for leaving him behind. Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.He said, “Hey.”I said, “Hey” and “Hi” and “I’m so happy to see you.” And I meantevery word.“All right?”I tried to be strong for him, this Not-Kelly. But he was a figment of myimagination, and I was alone. I said, “No.”He squeezed my hand. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”It was enough.By the time I opened my eyes, the sun was rising over the horizon andanother day had begun.Kelly was gone. WHEN THE PACK BROKE APART after the death of our father, I followed mybrothers into the great unknown, Gordo trailing after us. Our blood boiled,and we had rage in our heads and hearts. It burned far longer thanI thoughtit would, the years passing by until it felt like we were ghosts haunting thesecret highways known only to those who drifted. These were roadsforgotten, roads that led to nothing towns that had died long ago. We toldourselves we were still filled with righteous fury even as we were silent,days passing with only a couple of words spoken aloud.But we’d been together, the four of us, feeding off each other’s pain, ourheads shaved and our hearts hardened.It was different now that I was alone.I thought it would be easier.It wasn’t.The secret highways were lonelier. Some days I never spoke at all. Iwas lost more often than I wasn’t, especially toward the beginning. I didn’tknow where I was going, at first chasing the rising sun, hoping forsomething, anything that would point me in the right direction.It wasn’t until a dead-eyed motel clerk in Utah wished me a merryChristmas that the weight of what I’d done crushed me.That’d been a bad night.I thought it’d get easier.It didn’t, but I got better at ignoring it.I stayed away from the major cities, knowing Livingstone would mostlikely do the same. I had conversations in my head with my father, with mymother, with Joe and Ox, with Kelly, justifying why I’d left, telling themthat I owed it to him, that Gavin would do the same for me, trying to makemyself believe that was true.We’re looking for him, Ox told me.No. You’re looking for Livingstone.We want to help you find him, Joe told me.Like you wanted to find Robbie?You can’t do this alone, my father told me.You’re dead.You should have trusted us, my mother told me.I don’t even know if I trust myself.But it was Kelly I talked to most. Kelly who was sometimes so angry Icould almost see the spittle on his lips as he shouted at me. Kelly whowould be there waiting for me as I closed my eyes. Kelly who would singalong with me when an old rock song came on the radio.He wasn’t there.But I could pretend he was.I said, “I’m sorry.”I said, “I know you don’t understand.”I said, “You might never forgive me.”I said, “I wish I could see you.”I know, he’d say. And, Turn up the radio. I like this song.I did, because I would do anything he asked me.It was getting easier to imagine Kelly was there.Sometimes I could actually see him sitting next to me.It should have scared me more than it did. THE FIRST NOTE I FOUND was after I’d seen a ghost. I’d left Green Creekbehind five months prior, and it was one of the bad days.It was my birthday.I turned thirty-one years old.I was talking to Kelly, telling him that if I was home, there would befood and presents and everyone would be smiling. Kelly and Joe wouldmake breakfast. I’d wake up, and they’d bring it into my room. We’d sit onthe bed, just the three of us, and Joe would eat my bacon, and Kelly wouldslap him on the back of his hand, telling him to leave some for me. Joewould flash his Alpha eyes, and we’d make fun of him for it. We’d stoptalking after a while, listening to Mom in the kitchen, singing about Johnnyand his guitar.And then we’d run with the pack. All of us together.“It’d be good,” I said, staring straight ahead but lost in the dream.“We’d run as fast as we could.”I’m faster than you.I snorted. “You keep telling yourself that. We all know that’s never beentrue.”Is Gavin there?That felt dangerous. “I… don’t know.”It’s okay not to know. Do you want him to be?“I don’t even know him.”And yet here you are, chasing after him like he’s the most importantthing in the world.“I….”What would happen then? After we ran.“When we were done, we’d all come back to the house. There’d be noOmegas. There’d be no Alpha of all. We would just… be. All of us,together. The furniture would be pushed back, and there’d be blankets andpillows and everything would be soft. Everything would be warm. I’d get tobe in the middle.”Not-Kelly was quiet. Then, It sounds nice.And then I said, “Do you think about it? What it would be like?”What?“If we weren’t us. If we weren’t… Bennetts.”Who would we be?“Unimportant.”And since he wasn’t real, I expected him to agree with me. He was partof me, this figment. He was my creation, and he should have said yes, yes, Iwish that all the time, I wish we weren’t anyone at all.Instead he said, “Here. Here. Here.”It was so real.Like he was right there.I jerked the steering wheel as I snapped my head over. For a moment Ialmost convinced myself he was sitting next to me. There was a flash ofblond hair and blue eyes and white teeth behind a small smile, but then itwas gone.The truck began to bounce as it left the road, dust kicking up behind me.I lifted my foot off the gas, forcing myself to stop from slamming on thebrakes in case the truck fishtailed. The truck slowed as I pulled it back ontothe road. I glanced in the rearview mirror. There was no one behind me.There was no one in front of me.My hands were sweating as I brought the truck to a stop. I put it in Parkbefore letting out the breath I’d been holding. “f*ck.”There was a sign up ahead for a town called Creemore.Creemore what? I didn’t know what state I was in.That scared me more than I expected it to. I tried to remember the pastfew days, but they were shattered into bits and pieces.I didn’t know what to do.I didn’t know where to go.I laid my forehead on the steering wheel, sucking in air.“I’m tired,” I whispered.Kelly didn’t reply.Eventually I drove on. THERE WERE NO WOLVES IN CREEMORE. It was small, more of a villagethan anything else.It reminded me of Green Creek, with its one main road.It wasn’t until I saw the license plates on the cars parked near thesidewalk that I realized I was in Canada. I couldn’t remember crossing theborder.I found an empty parking lot and pulled in, turned off the truck.I sat back in the seat, leaning my head against the back window. “Allright,” I said. “I’ll just….”Do something.I got out of the truck. My back hurt.People walked by the parking lot. They glanced at me and waved.I nodded, and they continued on.I turned toward the main road, looking at the renovated buildings, theshops with lights on inside.There was a garage, the doors open, loud music playing.I gave it a wide berth, my throat constricting.I didn’t know where I was going.People stared at me curiously, and I reached up to scratch at the beardon my face. It was unkempt, and I hadn’t showered in a couple of days. Iprobably looked awful. I kept my head down.I was walking past an open doorway that smelled cloyingly of burningcandles when a hand shot out and grabbed me by the wrist, squeezingtightly.I barely kept my eyes from flashing as I jerked my arm back.A young woman stood in a doorway, her skin pale, her eyes a strangeshade of green. She had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her hairwas styled in a thick black Mohawk that bisected her skull, and she hadfeathers hanging from chains in her ears.Black feathers.“From a raven,” she said, answering a question I hadn’t asked.I turned to walk away.“You’re looking for something.”I stopped and glanced back at her.Her head was co*cked. She looked me up and down before nodding.“Yes, definitely looking for something. Why?”“Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”“American,” she said. “West Coast? Yes. But not California. You don’tlook like a Californian.”“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”“I see things,” she said. “Part of my job.” She pointed toward a neonsign in the window. A large hand with an eye in the middle. Above it werethe words MADAM PENELOPE PSYCHIC.I snorted.She rolled her eyes. “So dismissive. You would think one such as youwould know better.”That caught me off guard. “One such as me.”She squinted at me. “Yes. You do know who you are, don’t you?”“Do you?” I snapped, tired of her game already. I had no use forwhatever scam she was running.“I think so,” she said, leaning against the door. “I’ve been waiting foryou.”“I doubtthat.” I turned again.“I can help you find him.”I froze before slowly looking back at her. “Who?”She waved her hand at me. “Whoever it is you’re looking for.”“And how do you know it’s a he?”She tapped the side of her head. “Psychic. Like it says on the sign. Youcan read, can’t you?”“f*ck off.”“So rude.” She sniffed. “Though I suppose that’s to be expected. You’relost. You have been for a long time. There’s… blue.” She frowned. “Whyare you blue?” Her nose wrinkled. “And there’s violet at the edges. It’spulling at you. Tearing.” Her eyes widened. “Ah. I see. Come. Come.Hurry. I have something for you.”And then she turned and walked back through the doorway, leaving megaping after her. Against my better judgment, I followed.The shop was small, and the smell inside made my eyes water. Candlesburned on a shelf against one wall, and the room was stuffy and hot. Shestood near the window, reaching over to turn off the neon sign. She flippeda sign on the window from OPEN to CLOSED. “Close the door behind you.We can’t be interrupted.”“I’m not paying you for—”“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said again. “You’re not a king, butyou’re close. Not many of those left. Isn’t that strange? Once upon a time,you couldn’t go outside without tripping over one, and now?” She shookher head as she pushed by me. “It’s a rarity. I wonder if we’re worse offbecause of it.”“I’m not a king.”“I know that,” she snapped as she rounded the counter. “I just said that.You need to listen.”“Lady, I don’t know what the hell you—”“Ohm,” she hummed. “Ohm. Ohmmmmm.” She coughed. “Yikes.That’s not the way to go about this.” She disappeared behind the counter asshe bent over. I heard her opening and closing cabinet doors as she mutteredto herself about blue, blue, blue. She laughed at one point as she set acrystal ball on the counter. “That’s just for show. Stop sneering.”“I’m not.” I was.“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that. Have you ever been shot?”“What?”“Not yet. It’ll hurt when it happens. Believe me, I know. You’d do wellto remember that.” She peeked her head above the counter, staring at mewith those strange eyes. “You won’t die. Which is good.” Then shedisappeared again.“Are you going to shoot me?”“Of course not. Don’t be silly. Even if I was, I have a feeling none ofmy bullets would do the trick. Fresh out of silver, wouldn’t you know.”“Witch,” I snarled.“Well, yes,” she said. “But also a psychic. It’s on the sign. Aha.” Shestood upright.And there, in her hands, was an old wooden cup.She shook it.It rattled.Like bones.Like memory.I’m doing what I have to.Are you? Or are you doing what your anger has demanded of you?When you give in to it, when you let your wolf become mired in fury, you nolonger have control.The old witch by the sea.The one Gordo had brought us to when we were after Richard Collins.He’d spilled bones on the table.“Theirs was a story of fathers and sons,” the woman said, and I felt likeI was floating. “Yours, though. Yours is one of brothers. And yet you’vepaid for the sins of the fathers time and time again. When does it end?” Sheoverturned the cup onto the counter. Bleach-white bones spilled out,scattering across the surface. “Death, though not for you. But someonewho….”“How did you—”She smiled sadly. “You have lost much. Even if I didn’t know what Idid, I could see that plain on your face. You carry the weight of the worldupon you, and for what? What has it brought you? You’re very far fromhome.”“If you know what I am, then you know what I can do.”“Your threats don’t work on me, wolf. Keep that in mind before youopen your mouth again.” She scooped up the bones in the cup and stareddown at them. She cleared her throat and then spat into the cup, a large wadof green.I grimaced.She laughed. “Yes. It’s… unsanitary. But it does the job.” She placedher hand over the top of the cup and shook it again. She spilled the bonesonce more. They were wet with her saliva. “Huh. That’s unexpected.” Sheturned away from the counter and went to a shelf behind her. She grabbed ajar and unscrewed the lid, then poured a black powder into her palm. Sheturned back around, holding her hand out to me. “Snort this.”“The hell you say.”“It’ll help.”“I’m not snorting that.”She looked down at the powder, then back at me. “Why not?”“I’m leaving.” I turned toward the door, wanting to get the hell out ofthis place.She said, “He didn’t know. When he found you. He didn’t know whatyou were, what any of you were. Especially you, though. And the man withthe roses and raven. But something in him, something deep and hidden,called through all that violet. It told him he was safe with you, that he nolonger needed to run. He was tired of running. The silver chain around hisneck was a noose. He was trapped. The false prophet had held him andtortured him. She broke him down until he was nothing but a pet. But thenshe made a mistake. She brought him to you, not knowing what he was toyou. And those bonds were stronger than any hold she had over him.”My claws dug into my palms. A drop of blood fell to the floor.“Ah,” she said. “Now I have your attention.”I turned back around.She held out her hand. “Snort this.”“No.”She shrugged. “Okay.” She used her free hand and scooped up thebones again into the cup. She dumped the powder inside. “You really didn’tneed to. I just wanted to see if you would. That probably would have been abad idea. Might have even killed you.” She chuckled.“Do you know him?”Her smile faded. “No. But I don’t need to. I know him through you. Youwear your heart on your sleeve, Carter. You think you carry armor to hide it,but those who know you can see right through it.”My skin thrummed. “I never told you my name.”She spilled the bones again. They were coated with the black powder.Against my better judgment, I took a step toward her as she stared down atthem. “Huh. That’s weird.”“What?”“Don’t touch him,” she whispered. “Don’t touch him. Don’t. Touch.Him.” Her spine arched as her head snapped back. Her eyes were wide, theslim cords of her neck jutting out in sharp relief. Her mouth opened, but nosound came out. I thought she was having a seizure, but before I couldreach for her, she collapsed, her hands flat on the counter, holding her up.She breathed heavily through her nose. “sh*t.”I felt cold, even though the room was overly warm. “Why did you saythat?”“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, it hurts. It hurt him. He was…. He had noother choice. He didn’t know what else to do. He… broke… through? Hecouldn’t stand the thought of….” She wiped her eyes. “You must besomeone very special to have garnered such faith. How can you not seeeverything you are?”I swallowed thickly. “I’m not—it’s not like that.”“It is,” she said. She gestured toward the bones. “I’ve seen it. There arepaths ahead for you, wolf. Roads that diverge. Which one will you take, Iwonder? You’re slipping. It’s already begun. A wolf without a pack cannotsurvive. It will pull at you until you’re drowning. And yet you persist. Doyou even know why?”I looked away, unable to take her knowing gaze. “I’ve done it oncebefore. I can do it again.”“But why? Why have you chosen what you have? They believe in you.They know you. Why would you take this chance? You know better thanthat.”Her words, though spoken softly, were barbed and cutting. I didn’tunderstand how she knew what she knew. It was impossible. My kneeswere weak, and I stumbled against the counter. The bones shifted, spillingblack powder. My claws dug in, leaving long scratch marks on the counter.She made a startled noise and put her hands on top of mine. My gumsitched, and I had to fight back a shift.“You’re exhausted,” she said quietly. “Come. Rest your weary head.You’ll need it. The days ahead will be long, and you’ll find little relief.” Shesmiled quietly. “Not a king, though you act like one. I don’t know how youmanage. You must be very brave.