Scarred Wolf by Charlene Hartnady

31

Jaxon

I stare downat the pale features of my still-unconscious father where he’s lying in the small medical center in our compound. It’s hard to believe this is the same person who has struck fear into most of the pack for the past two-and-a-half decades. He looks like a shell of a man.

I’m wracked with anxiety and doubt about all that’s happened. Although I’d wanted to go after Everleigh, her message had been unmistakable. She hates me. And who could blame her? I should have told her from the start, but I was too selfish. I knew what her reaction would be if she found out the truth. I just wanted a little more time.

To do what?

Fuck knows. I wasn’t thinking. The way things worked out had been inevitable. Although no one could have imagined what she might do to my father. My uncle Garret has tended to him for hours. At first, we were certain he wouldn’t pull through; it still seems touch and go. Garret said he’d never seen such injuries. It was as if she’d hit him with a bolt of lightning; some kind of power.

Wolf power.

I knew what she was. I just didn’t know exactly what that meant. It’s not like we have much to go on. Double-alphas are rare. They’re usually exiled from the pack because they’re too dangerous, so no one really understands them. Garret thinks it’s some sort of psychic energy. When I told him how she’d been able to tap into my mind, he said he thought she could use that against us; take our energy and turn it into a weapon. I can only imagine what she’d be capable of if she actually knew how to use it. But I know Everleigh…she would never abuse that power. Despite what my father might believe. She’s good. Pure.

And I will never deserve her.

I am a fuck up!

I turn from my father’s bedside, not wanting to look at his face anymore. He’s clung to his anger and hatred for so long that it’s poisoned everything around us. My life is a mess. I know there’ll never be anyone else for me – that’s how we wolves are. I’ll be just like him. Destined to rule alone when he’s gone. Which looks like it might be sooner than I expected. I don’t want it. The power. The responsibility. The world feels too heavy right now.

I need to talk. Try to see a way through it all. But the only one who might understand is Garret, and he’s gone back to his quarters to rest. This ordeal has taken a lot out of him. He hates to admit it, but his infirmity wears him down more easily than the rest of us. I sometimes wonder if there’s more to it than just the wasted hip. Maybe something deeper. It doesn’t matter to me. He’s always been there for me. And I know he’ll listen now.

I leave the white clinical room and head out in the direction of Garret’s quarters. Our dens are scattered throughout these woods, unobtrusive structures that blend into the scenery to avoid detection but are generally sumptuous inside. Garret is particularly fond of his luxuries, and I guess being the brother of the alpha gives him some added benefits.

When I stop outside his door, I get no sense of movement inside. I knock on the knotted wood and wait. No response. Probably asleep. I should leave him to it, but I’m burning up inside. I peer through a window. No lights on. But there’s a door round back that he generally leaves open. I head through the dense bushes that surround his den and make my way up to the back entrance, relieved when I find it unlocked.

“Garret?” I call out. “Uncle? Are you awake?”

There’s no answer, and I make my way through the house. He’s not in the living room, where I know he sometimes likes to rest. “Garret?” Still nothing. I walk to his bedroom, frowning at the sight of his empty bed. Perhaps he’s working on one of his potions, something to help my father. I know he has a small lab in his quarters where he likes to do his mixing. Nobody’s allowed in there – he says many of the substances aren’t safe to be around without protection. I’ve never pressed the issue. Everyone is allowed their private spaces, although now, I really need to speak to him. As I head in the direction of the room, I’m surprised to see the door hanging ajar. That’s unusual. It’s normally locked, even when he’s in there. I push the door open and step in, feeling like an intruder.

Wide wooden counters dominate the space, each laden with an assortment of beakers and jars filled with unidentifiable contents. Roots, leaves, various colored liquids. The air is filled with strange aromas. There is nothing of my uncle. The room is empty of life, but I walk in further, regardless, curiosity overwhelming me. It’s as if I’m seeing the inner workings of my uncle’s mind in this space, all neatly ordered and stacked in rows.

There’s a desk in the corner, with leather-bound books in a neat pile on it. I open one and see pages of notes in his neat hand. Formulations for his medicines, I’m assuming. It all looks like Greek to me. As I look over the lines, a strange glitter catches my eye and I turn to where the light is shining through the window, refracting through a crystal that’s hanging from a lamp. An amulet encased in ornate gold on a leather string. My heart clenches.

I’ve seen that before. A lifetime ago. Clasped in my own chubby hand as it dangled from my mother’s neck. An heirloom handed down through her maternal line. The only time she took it off was when she went for a run in her wolf form. Even then, she would place it in a jewelry box in my parents’ bedroom. In my father’s reminiscing of his time with her, he’d spoken of it. It had been gone when they’d found her body, and he’d spoken bitterly of how the Moones had even taken that small part of her.

Yet here it is. In my uncle’s home.

How did he come by it?

And where is he now?

There’s a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, and with it comes a flood of childhood memories attached to the picture of that amulet in my chubby hand. The image of my mother and uncle in the woods as I crawled after beetles in the grass. The sound of her screams. My uncle standing over her. His face smeared with blood. And then his hand descending as he slashed at me.

It was him!

He killed her. Left these marks on me. It wasn’t my father. It was never my dad. I somehow got confused. I was so small. So young and innocent. It was my uncle this whole time. It was he who tore my world apart. I had blocked it out…I don’t know why. What I do know is that I feel sick. And the feeling deepens as I see a sheet of paper on the desk with a jumble of numbers and letters on it.

It’s Everleigh’s address. My blood runs cold.