I wondered if I believed my own lies.
In the end:
“You should talk to him. Before you go.”
“Joe?”
“Mark.”
“Ox—”
“What if you don’t come back? Do you really want him to think you don’t care? Because that’s fucked-up, man. You know me. But sometimes, I think you forget that I know you just as well. Maybe even more.”
Goddamn him.
SHE STOOD in the kitchen of the Bennett house, staring out the window. Her hands were curled against the counter. Her shoulders were tense, and she wore her grief like a shroud. Even though I hadn’t wanted anything to do with wolves for years, I still knew the respect she commanded. She was royalty, whether she wanted to be or not.
“Gordo,” Elizabeth said without turning around. I wondered if she was listening for wolves singing songs I hadn’t been able to hear for a long time. “How is he?”
“Angry.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“Is it?”
“I suppose,” she said quietly. “But you and I are older. Maybe not wiser, but older. Everything we’ve been through, all that we’ve seen, this is just… another thing. Ox is a boy. We’ve sheltered him as much as we could. We—”
“You brought this upon him,” I said before I could stop myself. The words were flung like a grenade, and they exploded as they landed at her feet. “If you’d stayed away, if you hadn’t brought him into this, he could still—”
“I’m sorry for what we did to you,” she said, and I choked. “What your father did. He was—it wasn’t fair. Or right. No child should ever go through what you did.”
“And yet you did nothing to stop it,” I said bitterly. “You and Thomas and Abel. My mother. None of you. You only cared about what I could be to you, not what it would mean for me. What my father did to me meant nothing to you. And then you went and left—”
“You broke the bonds with the pack.”
“Easiest decision I ever made.”
“I can hear when you lie, Gordo. Your magic can’t cover your heartbeat. Not always. Not when it matters most.”
“Fucking werewolves.” Then, “I was twelve when I was made the witch to the Bennett pack. My mother was dead. My father was gone. But still, Abel held out his hand to me, and the only reason I said yes was because I didn’t know any better. Because I didn’t want to be left alone. I was scared, and—”
“You didn’t do it for Abel.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She finally turned and looked at me. She still had the afghan around her shoulders. At some point she’d pulled her blonde hair back into a ponytail, locks of which were loose and hung about her face. Her eyes were blue, then orange, then blue again, flickering dully. Most anyone who looked at her would have thought Elizabeth Bennett weak and frail in that moment, but I knew better. She was backed into a corner, the most dangerous place for a predator to be. “It wasn’t for Abel.”
Ah. So that was the game she wanted to play. “It was my duty.”
“Your father—”
“My father lost control when his tether was taken from him. My father has aligned himself with—”
“We all had a part to play,” Elizabeth said. “Every single one of us. We made mistakes. We were young and foolish and filled with a great and terrible rage at everything that had been taken from us. Abel did what he thought was right back then. So did Thomas. I’m doing what I think is right now.”
“And yet you did nothing to fight your sons. To not let them make the same mistakes we did. You rolled over like a dog in that room.”
She didn’t rise to the bait. Instead she said, “And you didn’t?”
Fuck. “Why?”
“Why what, Gordo? You have to be more specific.”
“Why are you letting them go?”
“Because we were young and foolish once, filled with a great and terrible rage. And that has now passed to them.” She sighed. “You’ve been there before. You’ve been through this. It happened once. And it’s happening again. I’m trusting you to help them avoid the mistakes we made.”
“I’m not pack.”
“No,” she said, and that shouldn’t have stung like it did. “But that’s a choice you made. Much like we are here now because of the choices we made. Maybe you’re right. Maybe if we hadn’t come here, Ox would be….”
“Human?”
Her eyes flashed again. “Thomas—”
I snorted. “He didn’t tell me shit. But it’s not hard to see. What is it about him?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know that Thomas knew either. Not exactly. But Ox is… special. Different. He doesn’t see it yet. And it may be a long time before he does. I don’t know if it’s magic or something more. He’s not like us. He’s not like you. But he’s not human. Not completely. He’s more, I think. Than all of us.”
“You need to keep him safe. I’ve strengthened the wards as best I can, but you need—”
“He’s pack, Gordo. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for pack. Surely you remember that.”
“I did it for Abel. And then for Thomas.”
“Lie,” she said, cocking her head. “But you almost believe it.”
I took a step back. “I need to—”
“Why can’t you say it?”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“He loved you,” she said, and I’d never hated her more. “With everything he had. Such is the way of wolves. We sing and sing and sing until someone hears our song. And you did. You heard. You didn’t do it for Abel or Thomas, Gordo. Even then. You were twelve years old, but you knew. You were pack.”
“Goddamn you,” I said hoarsely.
“I know,” she said, not unkindly. “Sometimes the things we need to hear the most are the things we want to hear the least. I loved my husband, Gordo. I will love him forever. And he knew that. Even in the end, even when Richard—” Her breath caught in her throat. She shook her head. “Even then. He knew. And I will miss him every day until I can stand at his side again, until I can look upon his face, his beautiful face, and tell him how angry I am. How stupid he is. How lovely it is to see him again, and would he please just say my name.” There were tears in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. “I hurt, Gordo. I don’t know if this ache will ever leave me. But he knew.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Only because you won’t let it be. He loved you. He gave you his wolf. And then you gave it back.”
“He made his choice. And I made mine. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want anything to do with you. With him.”
“You. Lie.”
“What do you want from me?” I asked, anger filling my voice. “What the hell could you possibly want?”
“Thomas knew,” she said again. “Even at the brink of death. Because I told him. Because I showed him time and time again. I regret many things in my life. But I will never regret Thomas Bennett.”