Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Agnar

The next morning, when he walked to the table after a shower, Blake and Levi shared a long look with each other. They had stacks of waffles in front of them that they were making a good effort at devouring.

Prairie Rose practically leapt from the table like a bird taking flight. She couldn't hide her delight or the way her eyes absolutely sparkled as she set a plate with four fluffy waffles, whipped cream, and strawberry syrup in front of him.

It reminded him of the first time she'd done it, the morning after the challenge to his leadership and the attempt on his life. His mind wanted to go back to that day, if he could go back, would he have done things differently? Killed Alexander when he had the chance? He suspected he wouldn't have. It had been a day of trials after a night of challenges and one near miss. He'd already granted Alexander a boon, banishing him and the others who had survived the challenge against him. He'd come home, virtually dead on his feet, aching all over, to find waffles waiting.

He'd had no idea what was coming.

No clue that the wolves who would raid their home would take everything from them. They hadn't given chase, certain in their slaughter. Was Alexander living in his home this minute? Had he made himself alpha? Alpha of what? Or had the whole place been destroyed? Burned to the ground? The title was held in the name of a shell corporation, but Alexander had signing authority, as beta. Would he have transferred the title into his own name by now?

"They're teaching us self-defense at school," Blake spoke up, quiet and far more cautious than he used to be.

It spoke volumes as to how much he'd changed, that his own sons were wary around him in case they said something wrong. He hated that, hated what he'd become.

"They're not very good at it," Levi added, and giggled.

"No, they are," Blake corrected. "They're just… they don't go much past the basics. We learned that when we were little kids. They don't have a reason to go past that. They use axes to split wood here, not skulls."

Prairie Rose choked and tried to cover it with a cough. She poured hot water into a teapot, threw in some leaves, and set it on the table.

Everyone halted, waiting for him.

He thought the first bite would be tasteless. He was wrong.

He'd eaten so little since arriving in Wyoming, surviving on snatches and handfuls of food he hauled out of the fridge or off the countertops like a thief in Prairie Rose's small home. Food was just something to stave off starvation. That first night when the healer had come and sedated him with herbs so she could operate on his hands, she'd left in the morning when he woke up, instructing him on how to take care of the healing. He'd barely eaten enough for his wounds to heal.

But he wasn't soldiering, he wasn't a warrior. He didn't do guard duty, patrols, or hold ceremonies. He did nothing other than walk the woods endlessly, and much of that involved sitting and starting up at the sky, wondering if anyone was up there at all, and if they fucking gave two shits about the suffering down below.

The first bite of the waffle, with the perfect dough, the rich cream, and the sweet strawberry exploded in his mouth. If his body was a wasteland, so was his tongue, but it came alive in a single heartbeat, saliva exploding at the back of his mouth as he chewed. He should have gone slowly, but since the stuff didn't taste like ash and for once his stomach wasn't threatening to eject what he'd just forced down, he took another bite and another. He couldn't stop. Even in his old life, food was just something to provide nutrition, not a means of enjoyment. He was so unaccustomed to the taste of something as simple as a waffle, that it astounded him.

It probably wasn't even more than a minute before he was staring down at the red smears of syrup on a blue and white porcelain plate, He was tempted to lift it and lick it clean.

"You should come show them how," Levi said out of nowhere.

Prairie Rose stumbled on her way back to the table, nearly dropping the teapot. She turned her face away from him so he couldn't see her expression. She went and got matching teacups, the floral pattern so dainty that they seemed purely ornamental and not something that you'd use every day.

"Yeah, Dad, you should." Usually, Blake gently offered his older brother wisdom to Levi. Their personalities were so different. Where Blake was studious and reserved, quiet by nature, Levi was outgoing and often outlandish just to amuse himself with everyone else's reactions to his wild ideas.

"That's not a good idea," he responded gruffly. "I'm not an alpha here."

"You can still teach," Levi said, sticking out his lower lip in a pout. It was evident how much he'd missed his father.

Blake nodded. "You could help instruct, at least. That wouldn't be showing anyone up." He paused and then he said a word that hardly ever came out of his mouth. "Please." He didn't even bother to try and hide the naked longing on his face.

Neither did Levi.

It didn't matter if he taught or not. That wasn't really what his boys were asking for. They were looking at him now, begging him to be there and stay there, even just for a few minutes. To be the dad they remembered, not the haunted ghost that frightened them. Not the man who wandered in and out of their lives without paying them the slightest attention, as if they weren't even there. Not the man who didn't eat and didn't sleep and was slowly shrinking away to nothing.

What the hell was Alexander doing at that moment? Gloating in his victory? Celebrating his new lands? Moving a new bunch of wolves into their homes? Had he given the dead proper burial rites as their law insisted? Or had he tossed them aside like garbage.

"Dad?" Blake pressed.

The agony of what he'd lost would always be with him. Always, until the end of his days, whenever that came. But did his sons have to pay the price for his mistakes? The sins of the father…

He should be doing something more to protect them. Anything.

As he sat there, the same dark thoughts and grief rose to overtake him. It was like a poison spreading through every cell in his body. He'd known a hard life, but he'd trusted in his ability to block it out and overcome it. Breathe through it. There was no breathing through this. That poison soaked into every bit of his skin. It was in his blood, going straight to his heart.

There was no going back.

"Look." Prairie Rose's light, lyrical tone cut through the dark in his head, dispelling the fog. "The sun's coming up."

He realized he had no idea what time his sons went to school. Where it even was. What time it was. He used to know the exact minute the sun rose and set. He knew what weather was coming for them, what the neighboring packs were doing, what the other alphas were thinking. He'd go over in his head the long list of things to be done that day and the next. He'd outline tasks and duties for his packmates. He knew who would be planting, who was on guard duty, who was training and being trained. He'd never once been apathetic about the boys' education or the education of any other child in his pack.

"Why don't we put our coats on and go and watch it on the porch? Wyoming might be cold, but the winter does make for glorious sunrises and sunsets." She left everything where it was, and the boys scrambled to follow her. "It's just as nice in the spring, summer, and fall, I guess, but the snow just adds that extra dimension of sparkle. If the trees are frosted over white, it's really something."

He could hear them at the front door, donning winter gear. He stood up. Took his plate to the sink. Forced his body to the door, though every step felt brutally weighted. He slid his coat on, marveling at how he'd never stopped to think about how it was a perfect fit before. He'd never wanted to wear it because that meant acknowledging Prairie Rose's concern and care, and acknowledging meant admitting that he felt a weird warmth in his insides.

His mate was out there with his sons. One small hand clung to each of hers and she stood in the middle, protective, fierce, so lovely that it captivated him. He couldn't even bring himself to look at the blazing array of colors above. By the way his eyes pricked from the bright snow, the sunrise was bright and glorious, more oranges and yellows than deep purples and pinks.

The birds even sang with the rising sun, little sparrows that twittered away in the branches of the trees closest to the cabins.

The Nightfall Pack territory seemed to have been laid out with some thought, smaller cabins forming streets parallel with one larger one where the alpha and his mate raised their family. Unlike Arizona, he'd heard there were more cabins and houses scattered throughout the extent of the Nightfall land. There was nothing but a barbed wire fence that ran the perimeter of most of the property and not even that existed through the woods. How had they managed to properly defend such a large territory from other packs, other shifters, and against human encroachment and curiosity?

Levi turned and saw him. He broke free of Prairie Rose's hold and rushed at him. He threw his arms around him and hugged him hard.

Hugs. That wasn't something his boys were known to do before they'd come here. Before they'd spent time with Prairie Rose and her family.

"If you won't teach at the school, will you at least walk us there? It doesn't start for a bit yet. Not until ten. Prairie Rose says that other packs don't even know there are children here other than her family, because some of them have this rule where only the alpha family is allowed to have kids. But there are lots. Tons."

So, this pack did have their own secrets that others knew nothing about. It was odd it should be children, but it could have been defense tactics as well. Kieran seemed to rely as heavily on the peace between neighboring packs as he had, the difference being that the bloodshed ended decades ago for them and the resulting peace, no matter how tenuous, was now something the children were born into and grew up with.

He'd wanted just that for his own children and their children.

Just when he thought he was full to capacity with hurt, another stone piled on top of the cairn that encased his body. He'd been nothing but an honest man his whole life, but the effects of honesty could be just as devastating as that of deceit.

"I can't teach or instruct." He should have told the boys that immediately. He should have spoken with them before now.

Blake whipped around, yanking Prairie Rose's arm so that she spun away from the sunrise too. It didn't stop those early morning rays from painting her gold like an angel.

"Those who can't do, teach and I can't even do that anymore."

She didn't frown, but her heart was in her eyes, and it was clear that it hurt. It hurt because of him. "If there are no teachers, how will the next generation, or anyone else, ever learn new skills or hear the stories of the past? When our wisemen relay our history through story or perform a ceremony the way it always has been done to keep that tradition alive, they're teaching. When our parents guide us in right and wrong, they're teaching us. When we're shown how to do something new, even if it's by an older brother or sister or just a friend, they're our instructors."

He raised his hands. He felt so ill inside that he trembled with the effort of not puking right there on the snow. "I can't hold a weapon anymore. I can barely defend myself. I can't shift."

Blake and Levi stared at him in horror. They weren't innocent any longer, not sweet young boys like the children in the Nightfall Pack. They'd known death, blood and violence. He'd never seen them react the way they did at the news that their strong, impenetrable, warrior father, the greatest wolf they knew in their pack, their leader and their guide, was now just a man who was barely living, breathing, with nothing in his heart but darkness and death.

"Why?" Levi truly didn't understand. He looked up at Agnar, craning his head way back, eyes huge and watery. That was something his boys didn't do either. Cry.

It was fine if they did. They were never going back to Arizona, and up here, people weren't programmed into becoming killing machines.

Blake had always been more solemn, and Agnar could tell he was chewing on that. He had the kind of mind that was good at math and science. He'd always wanted to know why things were the way they were. It made sense for someone who wanted to be a healer, maybe even train out there in the world to be a doctor. He never forgot what he learned and when he spoke, it was only after he'd decided what he wanted to say.

He clutched Prairie Rose's hand. Agnar looked at that and not at either of their faces. "We aren't ashamed of you." Agnar's insides turned to ice, blocking out the warm trickle he'd felt looking at that jacket. "You're still alive. You know you are, but it makes sense why you're angry and why you want a warrior's death. You've always had fighting and pain as an outlet. It's always proved you were alive. You had the wolf, and all of us feel the most alive when we're in that form. You think it's all gone, but it's not. You can shift, you just don't want to because it would hurt the wolf. We can't go home, but we have a place to stay here. I know you and Mom loved each other because she told me that right before she died. She tried to explain what duty and respect were, how she loved us so much, and that no matter what happened you would be there for us."

Levi nodded. He hadn't been a stranger to that conversation either.

Even though it was true, it still knocked Agnar way the hell back. His chest was a minefield. This was his worst nightmare. The aftermath of the end, and he was living it.

Blake kept going, gentle though, squeezing that hand the whole time. "She told us you were a good man. A brave one. Honor is always better than danger and killing. Not everyone has to have blood on their hands to be a warrior."

Agnar was unable to gather any of his warrior poise. He used to be able to stand like a statue for hours. To live his life that way.

"We love you," Levi repeated again.

"Dad?" Blake finally broke away from Prairie Rose and tried to come to him, but he reacted like a wounded animal.

His guts hollowed out and burned into his throat and he turned and stalked back into the cabin. It was a mistake being here. He should have left the minute the remainder of his pack was safe. He was a grown man who had never lost control of himself, but he was losing it now.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually vomited, but his stomach heaved, and saliva flooded his mouth. He could feel the surge of it coming up.

He stripped the jacket off in a brutal movement and thrust his way into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him. He knelt down in front of the toilet, his humiliation complete at last. He heard voices outside, Prairie Rose and someone else. His stomach clenched and rolled again, and he vomited loudly and forcefully. It was painful and made his skin slick with sweat. It kept coming and coming, until he felt like his guts were going to tear out.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand at last and flushed the toilet. He knelt there for just a minute, sweaty forehead pressed against the seat, panting.

Your peace was a failure. You're responsible for all those deaths. All those bodies. The loss of your homeland. You failed. Failed in every way. It was a good thing you were taken from your parents and that your foster father died long ago. They wouldn't have been able to stand looking at you. You're not even a wolf any longer. You're a disgusting thing, lower than the dirt that maggots crawl through. You're worse than nothing. You are the monster. You will infect everyone around you.

All that was left was that sinister, hateful hiss inside his skull.

He opened the bathroom door and the fact that he didn't see the woman standing off in the corner of the kitchen until she moved said just how far his warrior instincts were shot to shit. He stopped instantly. She looked like Prairie Rose, but her scent was all wrong, and then she lifted her head.

Her sister, Briar May. The woman who mated Castor on the same day, at the same time, in the same wild blizzard that felt like a lifetime ago. She was dressed in a bright pink puffer parka and purple leggings, with actual fur trimmed boots, but she was no princess. She looked pissed and scarier than any warrior three times her meager size.

That tiny little warmth in his chest started to burn again. This was his mate's sister, but she was her best friend too. He was thankful she had someone on her side like this. Someone to go to, but also someone who would sneak into her house, ready to tell him exactly where to fucking go and how things would be when he got there.

"My sister took the boys to our parents' house. They'll head off to school from there. I came over to ask her to dinner at our cabin sometime this week, and I could tell something was wrong. She didn't try to pretend it wasn't and the boys certainly didn't, but no one was going to tell me what it was. I watched them leave, then circled back around. Castor is watching the baby, so I only have a few minutes." She crossed her arms and gave him a scalding look. "He says you're a good man. Castor's hurting too, like everyone else, but I don't think you've noticed that the greatest pain is for you. I don't like you, but for my sister's sake and my pack's sake, I've promised to support her and you both. The boys too. Especially the boys. I know you want to leave and spare them all, but you won't. You will get your shit together. Grief is one thing, and what happened to you is unimaginable, but you still have life and a family. You have the opportunity to have everything. I know how much Castor treasures this life and he's from the same place you were. His father turned him into a killer and then called him a traitor and nearly killed him when he wanted something more than that. If anyone deserves to be put in the ground, it's Alexander. He hurt my mate, his own son. He turned his back on his own pack, betraying them and killing them, children included. That is the depraved act of a madman."

He could say nothing. Briar May wasn't finished anyway. He could see how Castor had fallen in love with this woman. She was delicate, but mighty. Soft, but she had a backbone of steel. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind and she certainly wouldn't be afraid to go to war for the people she loved, and that included her older sister.

"I fled from this place when Castor was sent back to Arizona. I was miserable. I went to my brother's, the one who was banished. The same brother who started this all by killing Castor's brother because he killed the woman he loved."

Up until that exact point, no one had told him who it was. If Castor knew, he'd kept it a close secret. All Kieran admitted was that it had happened, and it had been someone from their pack. Alexander had been so convinced his son was a traitor and that he was working against him. When he'd come back to Arizona as part of a peace gesture, Alexander had worked steadily for days, wearing Agnar down until he was half convinced that Alexander was right. He'd agreed to give Castor to him to guard until they could question him. He'd never imagined that Alexander would take him to a cave and torture him for days, trying to extract information that didn't exist.

"Yes, it was my brother. He was banished from here as a result. He's not a bad man. He reminds me a lot of you, actually. Alive, but half dead. In tremendous pain. The difference, though? He's had to start over. He's found a group of men who I hope can be friend enough and pack enough to help him heal his broken heart and wounded soul. He let me stay with him when I couldn't bear it here, but he talked sense into me. He brought me back here, to my family. You have a whole pack here. A whole family just waiting to embrace you. You have your real family. Your two boys. You have the people you know from home. You can't see the beauty in the world or feel the warmth of the sun or the people around you because you're punishing yourself. You're choosing that darkness. I know you, in a way, because I know Castor. He was taught exactly how to block it all out. But that's impossible. It's been hard for him to train that out of himself, but he's learning how to feel and learning how to be okay with it. It's a relief for him to be here and be seen as a person and not a warrior or a killer. No matter what's happened, no matter where you came from or who you are, you're a person too, Agnar Phaethon. For my sister's sake, find your humanity and find it fast."

"She deserves so much more than this," he spat, irrational anger breaking through at this woman's daring to judge him, to tell him she knew him, to think that she saw him. But she did. She fucking so easily and rightly did and he had no business feeling that prickle of hot rage that buzzed through his skull like a swarm of insects.

"That's why you wanted to leave, I know, but stop thinking about that. Stop thinking about leaving, about martyring yourself, stop listening to the voices of the past, stop relying on your training. It's unhealthy and it's never going to get you through this. You were trained to fight real, external enemies. You weren't trained how to fight with yourself or for yourself against something you can't see." She paused, giving that time to settle in with all the pleasantry of getting thrown through a glass window and making friends with the shards embedded in soft skin. "When my sister overheard Castor's plan for a mating in the Phaethon Pack to ensure peace, she offered herself. She didn't do it as a sacrifice or because she was bored here. She did it because something inside her told her it was right. Whether we believe in it or not, fate guides us all."

Briar May's lips thinned out and her nostrils flared in annoyance "This ghost business needs to stop. It's not what happened that's making you sick. It's not what happened that's killing you. You're making yourself ill. You're killing yourself. Slowly, if you can't run off and get it done." Briar May swept her long, pale hair over one shoulder and gave him a blistering look, but it had as much concern in it as it did righteous wrath. "You might not be the same man you were, and everything might have changed, but you're still a father and you're still my sister's mate. That doesn't make you no one, it makes you a hell of a lot of someone. They'll never reject you." She was sure he was listening, and she unleashed the last of her advice for him. "Focus on building that instead of tearing it down, burning it to the ground, and turning your back on it all."

As unforgiving as her expression was, he knew it would change in an instant if he heeded her advice. She didn't hate him. She was just defending and protecting her sister. If he wasn't going to listen to Prairie Rose, then she'd made it her business for him to listen to her.

He knew she was right.

He knew it, and he fucking felt it.

"I told her I'd never be able to love her. I warned her."

Briar May laughed with surprising warmth, but then she shook her head and stared at him like he was the most obtuse child who just refused to grasp even the simplest concept.

"If I know anything, it's that my sister isn't the patron saint of lost causes and that love isn't something you can just decide or decide against, especially not before you even know someone."