There’s only the truth. Ugly and unvarnished and long overdue.
“The night my family died…” I have to clear my throat before continuing. “You know I was with you when it happened. Down at Miller’s pond, watching the sunset, acting like we had all the time in the world.”
“I remember.”
“When the howls started, I ran. You tried to keep up, but I was faster. By the time I reached the cabin...” I stop, forcing myself to breathe through the memory that still has the power to drag me under. “I found them. All three of them. My father on the porch. My mother in the doorway. And Mira—”
The name catches in my throat like broken glass.
“Bryan, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” I cut her off before she could give me an out. “You wanted the truth. This is it.”
She falls silent, waiting.
“Mira’s window was open. She almost made it out.” I stare at my hands, at the scars that map a decade of violence across my knuckles. “I stood there looking at what was left of my family, and all I could think was that I should have been there. If I hadn’t snuck out to meet you, if I’d been home where I belonged, maybe I could have done something. Maybe I could have fought them off, or at least died with my family instead of showing up after it was already over.”
“That’s not—”
“I know it’s not logical. I know there’s nothing I could have done against a Cheslem strike team, especially not when I was that young with no training. But logic doesn’t matter when you’re standing in your parents’ blood at dawn, looking at your little sister’s body and knowing you survived because you chose a girl over your family.”
Skylar doesn’t try to argue or offer comfort. She just listens, and somehow, that’s exactly what I need.
“The guilt nearly destroyed me. For weeks after the funeral, I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t look at anyone in the pack without wondering if they blamed me as much as I blamed myself.” I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots until the sting grounds me. “And every time I saw you, it got worse. Because you were the reason I was alive. You were the reason I survived when everyone I loved didn’t.”
“So you pushed me away.”
“I pushed everyone away. But you most of all, because being near you reminded me of everything I’d lost. And because I knew what I had to do next, and I couldn’t do it if you were still in my life.”
She frowns, furrowing her brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“The Black Ops agency recruited me three weeks after the attack. They’d been monitoring the Cheslem situation for months, and they needed wolves who had personal stakes in seeing them destroyed. Wolves who wouldn’t flinch when the time came to pull the trigger. I was the perfect candidate. Angry, grieving, and desperate to make my survival mean something. They offered me a chance to hunt down the wolves who killed my family, and I took it without a second thought.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracks on the question. “I would have understood. I would have waited for you.”
“That’s exactly why I couldn’t tell you. Relationships with outsiders were strictly forbidden in the agency. Too much risk of compromise and divided loyalties. Operatives who formed attachments became liabilities. They made mistakes. They got themselves killed, or worse, they got the people they cared about killed.”
“So you cut me off to protect me.”
“Partly. But even if the agency had allowed it, I couldn’t have asked you to wait for me. Not when I knew what I was signing up for.”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew the missions they sent me on would either kill me or turn me into someone you couldn’t love. There was no version of this where I came home unchanged. The things I’ve done over the past ten years, the person I’ve become... That boy you fell in love with at Miller’s pond doesn’t exist anymore, Skylar. I killed him off piece by piece during a decade of hunting and violence until there was nothing left but the wolf and the work.”
I watch the fireflies beginning to blink in the darkness beyond the porch, giving her time to absorb a decade of secrets laid bare in a single conversation.
“I tracked Cheslem cells across three territories,” I continue, needing her to understand the full scope of what I chose. “I put down wolves who had tortured and murdered families just like mine. Some of them begged for mercy before the end. Others tried to bargain, offering information in exchange for their lives. I listened to their offers, extracted what intelligence I could, and then I finished the job anyway.”
Skylar’s face has gone pale, but she doesn’t look away. She asked for the truth. Now she’s getting it.
“I told myself it was justice. That every Cheslem wolf I eliminated was one less monster who could destroy someone else’s family. But somewhere along the way, the line between justice and revenge got blurred until I couldn’t tell the difference anymore. I became the thing I was hunting. A predator. A killer. Someone who solved every problem with violence because violence was all I had left.”
“Bryan...”
“There was another reason I rejected you,” I admit. “I knew that if the Cheslem ever found out about you, they’d use you to get to me. A mate is the ultimate pressure point. The one person who can make even the strongest wolf do stupid, desperate things. I saw it happen to other operatives. Watched them compromise missions, betray allies, and throw away everything they’d worked for because someone they loved was in danger.”
Her breath catches, and realization dawns in her eyes. “Like when they attacked us at the border.”
