But he can’t face them alone.
I speed up, pressing into the ground with my back legs and pushing myself forward.
“Jasper!”I call as I make up ground. He’s almost at the point in the walkway where the invaders have jumped up onto the beams and where they look like they’re ... jumping off the bridge. From here I can’t see if they’re plummeting to their deaths in the East River. All I know is I need to catch up.
“Stay back,”Jasper says, his voice a pleasant surprise as it arrives in my head.“I’ve got this.”
All but the gray wolf have now disappeared over the side of the bridge. He stands above Jasper on the raised beam as traffic creeps by beneath him. His lips are a vibrating snarl. Then he does something I’ve never seen a wolf do before: He starts to shift back to human, the change beginning from the top of his head, but instead of taking full effect, the shift stops at his shoulders, revealing just his human face.
It’s a terrifying and unnerving image. The body of a wolf, with the head of a man, his lips still stretched by the sadistic grin he wore earlier.
He regards us with a malevolent sort of excitement, then he says, “Walter sends his regards.”
Jasper growls and leaps, but before he can reach the gray wolf, that dick has shifted fully once more, diving over the side of the bridge. I join Jasper on the beams, traversing them easily toreach the edge, where we’re just able to see the small dot of white as the gray wolf enters the water.
“Did he make it?”I ask, but Jasper doesn’t respond. We wait, staring down at the water, looking to see if this was some sort of suicide mission, but when he resurfaces the gray wolf is alive.
He swims at an angle, letting the current move him south but angling his body to the east toward Brooklyn.
“Look,”I say, following his trajectory.“The rest of them made it as well.”
Across the East River, a small pack of wolves is staggering up the banks, crawling onto the grass at Brooklyn Bridge Park, then darting away until they’re out of sight. We watch until the gray wolf has done the same.
Beside me, Jasper growls, the sensation rippling through me.
THE FALLENALPHA
Jasper’s apartment is quiet when I step out of the elevator. The atmosphere is somber. The living room is empty, the wide, curving sofas untouched. Outside the Manhattan sky is fittingly overcast.
Across the room a figure emerges from the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. It’s Melissa. Her hair is tied back loosely, the bags under her eyes are mega dark, she’s wearing gray sweatpants and a cardigan that she holds closed around her.
“Hi Max.” Her voice is hoarse.
“Hi.” I wander closer, not wanting to speak too loudly and disturb the air. “How is he doing?”
She shrugs, pressing her lips together as if she could burst into tears at any moment, and takes a long inhale through her nose.
“He’s alive, thank the moon gods. But—we’ve had our best healers looking over him, and ...” She can’t help the tears from falling. “They don’t know if he’s going to wake up.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Melissa shakes her head, trying to dispel her tears. “Jasper is with him. He hasn’t left his side.”
It’s been two days since the attack. I decided to give Jasper some space while Jericho was in the hospital, but last night, after they’d brought him home, Jasper reached out.
“I need you,”he said.
“I’ll come tomorrow.”
The moment Jericho fell was like a gut punch to the entire pack. The moment he lost consciousness sent a ripple throughour psyches. And now with his life in the balance there’s a sort of mass unease, like we’re all one inch away from emotional collapse. If I can do anything to help soothe even a little of Jasper’s distress, I will.
“How is Jodie?” I ask.
“Shaken up.” Melissa nods and blows her nose. “Sad. Scared. We all are.”
“It’s—it’s so awful.”
Melissa does her best to smile, then reaches out to hold my elbow. “You should go be with him,” she says. “He’s going to need you now.”
