“He abandoned us,” Gage says.
“I couldn’t—I—fuck, Gage! I couldn’t even protect Nick. I’m a goddamn cop and I couldn’t protect my packmate from a fucking knife. I shouldn’t be the dominant.” The confession comes out in a ragged growl I can hardly control.
All of the alphas stare at me for a long, heart-wrenching minute.
“That’s some absolute bullshit,” Eli says through his mask, still looking out at the dark lake. “It was an insane woman with a grudge.”
“And if you had said anything like this to any of us, we would have told you that,” Zeke says, picking up Eli’s thread.
“But you didn’t. You just ghosted us,” Gage finishes. The venom is still in his voice, but it’s lost some of its bite. “We just woke up a few days after the funeral and you were completely gone.”
Those months directly after Nick’s death are like a brain fog. I wandered around on my motorcycle for a while, drinking and trying to forget. “I was no good to anyone,” I reply. It’s the damn truth.
“But we could have been good for you,” Rafe rasps. “You don’t think I didn’t just want to lay down and never get up again? Nick was everything to me. I—” He chokes off on a small sob that guts me.
Winnie, the sweetheart that she is, takes my hand in hers. I don’t deserve it.
“We needed you,” Gage says, and that’s the raw meat of it. They needed me, but I could hardly keep myself from drowning.
Gage, surprisingly, goes on. “And you needed us. That’s what a pack is, fucker. You forgot that.” He takes a deep breath. “Maybe we all kind of did after.”
“You did your best, man,” Zeke offers. I’ve realized that I dumped a lot on Gage’s shoulders when I left.
“I thought the pack would split after Nick. I didn’t realize you’d try to hold it together. I am sorry I left that with you.” Because a non-dominant alpha running a pack doesn’t just put a ton of strain on the pack. It can emotionally break the alpha trying to do it. No wonder Gage has acted like he’s one raw nerve since he came here.
His shoulders drop as if some of the tension, some of the weight that’s been sitting there, has eased.
Gage doesn’t say anything else. Just sits there, jaw tight, fingers twitching like he wants to hit something or hold something—maybe both.
I don’t deserve forgiveness. I don’t expect it.
But for the first time in years, I think I might be ready to stay.
Winnie squeezes my hand. I don’t look at her, but I don’t let go either.
Winnie
The meal is stilted and awkward after the conversation about Nick. Zeke’s grief has bled into mine, and I know it’s only the tip of an iceberg of emotion I can’t yet feel from the rest of the pack since we aren’t bonded. Still, it feels like something has shifted. Like a barb lodged in this pack since before I ever met them has finally been pulled free. The pain isn’t over, but it’s starting to heal.
The revelation of a sixth packmate, Nick, leaves a deep ache in my chest. He should have been one of my mates. He should be here with me now. I want to know him. Now that I know he’s missing, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a hollow place inside me that will never be filled.
“What was he like?” I ask softly as we finish eating in silence.
I know this isn’t truly my grief. They knew him. He was pack. But scent-sensitive mates are supposed to be perfect matches. There’s a psychological bond that forms even before the physical one, something scientists have tried to study since the beginning of medicine.
No one speaks right away.
“He was kind. Funny. God, that sounds so inadequate,” Zeke says, running his hand through his floppy brown hair. His blue eyes meet mine, and he gives a small shrug of apology.
“He was our blacklight tattoo artist,” Gage adds, and when I look confused, he explains. “He made tattoos that glowed under blacklight. He especially loved nature designs.”
Rafe lets out a quiet chuckle, thin and watery. “Nature might’ve been his whole personality. Hiking, rock climbing, swimming. If it was outside, he loved it.” He meets my eyes, a hint of teasing returning, and it eases the tightness in my chest. “He would’ve loved you, Dulzura. Right away. He was never indecisive.”
My tear-stung eyes meet his, glassy and wet, and the connection feels instant and true. Rafe is quickly becoming someone I lean on without thinking. I believe him. I believe he knows the man he loved, the man I never got to love, well enough to say that.
I glance down at my empty plate, then back at the pack. “Did he keep any of his designs?”
Gage nods. “Sketchbooks. A lot of them.”
