25. Caleb

TWENTY-FIVE

Caleb

“You’re up early.”

Looking over my shoulder, I watched as Cannon approached me. “What do you want?”

“Good morning to you too.” He sat beside me, neither of us caring that the ground was heavy with morning dew. We were higher up the mountain, not much footfall at this time of the day. “She didn’t sleep well,” he told me conversationally. “I admit, I never expected her to stay in the room.”

I grunted at the acknowledgment. “I told you, she’s predictable.”

Cannon chuckled. “It’s not always a bad thing,” he reminded me ruefully. “Kezia would have been out of the room the moment I closed the door behind me.”

“Willow isn’t a shifter.”

“Well aware of that.” We sat in silence for a while, both lost to our thoughts before Cannon ruined it. “Have you been back? ”

“No.” I anticipated his next question. “Don’t bother asking.”

I heard his low exhale. “Right.” Cannon looked down the mountain to the village that housed his pack. “You should tell her.”

“She doesn’t need to know.”

He was watching me, and I was pretending he wasn’t. “Doesn’t she? She’s in our world, Caleb. She’s a human walking over pack territory. When she sleeps, she visits packlands. I think if you told her more about…things, she’d understand.”

“You mean if I told her why I have no pack?” My voice was full of bitterness. “She doesn’t need to know, and she will never need to know. It makes no difference to what she sees or what she paints.”

“You don’t know that.”

Standing, I brushed off the back of my jeans, my toes curling into the grass below my feet. “I know more than you, and I know her.” I didn’t look at the alpha in front of me. “Tell me when the shaman gets here. I want off this damn mountain.” I walked away before he could answer.

A white wolf passed me as I walked towards the bunker. It stopped and looked at me. The intensity of the amber stare would have been unnerving for some.

“He’s higher up the mountain,” I told her. I kept walking, knowing I probably just pissed off the alpha’s mate by not greeting her properly, and no doubt Cannon would say something about it later.

The door to Willow’s room was slightly ajar, and I could hear her moving about the small space as I approached. She didn’t hear me. She was oblivious to so much, and I took the opportunity to watch her as she got ready for her morning.

Cannon was right. I had told them she wouldn’t leave the room, and they had doubted me. It had been three days, and she still kept herself contained within the four walls they’d put her in. I appreciated a rule follower—when Cannon said “stay,” she’d stayed—but good grief, she’d stayed for three days. Why wasn’t she curious?

Or was she scared?

Chewing my inner cheek, I watched her and realized that was more likely. Willow had no idea of what was outside her door, and the fear of the unknown was sometimes worse than the knowledge of the known.

I took in her appearance, checking she looked healthy—well, as healthy as Willow could look. She was wearing jeans and a hoodie, and like me, her feet were bare. Her hair was loose, and while pale, she looked okay.

“You lost your shoes?”

Willow’s scream of surprise made me laugh, causing her to spin to glare at me, her eyes already narrowed in anger. “Caleb! Don’t sneak up on people!”

“I didn’t sneak,” I told her, pushing the door wider. I gestured to her feet. “Where’s your socks?” Willow turned her head away but not before I saw the slight blush on her cheeks. “Ran out of clean clothes?” It was a guess, but her sharp nod made me smile. She was a rule follower, but dear Luna, she was a stubborn woman. “You should have told someone. They’d have washed your clothes.”

That earned me a look. “I don’t need to bother people. It’s bad enough that I’m here invading their space. ”

“Dear Goddess,” I muttered, walking into her room and picking up the tote bag she came with. Pulling it open, I ignored Willow’s indignant squawk as I pulled her dirty laundry from the bag.

“Caleb!”

“For fuck’s sake, Willow, it’s just clothing. I’ve seen a lot more.”

Slim hands snatched a fistful of clothes from me. “I’m sure you have, but these are my clothes.”

“And I’ve seen you naked out of those clothes,” I said, yanking them back. “So why don’t you stop being precious and let me get them cleaned.”

Willow stepped back, her face on fire. “You’ve seen me naked?”

The flat look I gave her made her angrier. “You were bedridden. Who the hell do you think did the bathroom breaks? I told you I sponge-bathed you!”

“Naked?” Her voice was a high-pitched squeak.

“No, I washed you fully clothed because that’s helpful.”

“Don’t take that tone with me!”

“Then stop being a whiny bitch.”

“Morning.” We both turned to look at Doc, who looked as if he wished he hadn’t spoken.

“Hi.” Willow at least tried to be polite.

“What do you want?” I felt an elbow dig into my side and brushed off her unspoken reprimand.

“I wanted to ask Willow what she would like for her breakfast.”

As he rattled off the choice of menu, I turned towards her to watch her falter at being the center of attention. “Bacon and egg sandwich sounds good,” I cut him off. “I’ll have two, she’ll have one.” Willow turned to gape at me. “I’ll take extra bacon.” Doc didn’t react when I added coffee to my “order.” He left us and I knew we had a fifty-fifty chance of getting anything.

“You’re rude.”

“You’re too timid.” Dumping the clothing on the bed, I went about piling it and then rolling it into a small bundle, tucking it under my arm. “I’ll give these to someone who’ll wash them and have them back soon.”

“That it? You’re ready to leave again?” Willow picked up her sketch pad, suddenly looking nervous, holding it out to me. “I think you need to look at this.”

For the first time in a long time, our roles were reversed, and I was the unsure one. “What is it?”

“Look and see.”

Dropping the bundle, I took the book, but Willow’s finger was acting as a placeholder, so she came forward with it. As I took in the page, I didn’t pay any heed to how close she stood to me.

The scene was chaotic. My first impression was that the page was too small to contain everything that she’d seen, as if the paper couldn’t contain the turmoil that she’d drawn. Trees, broken and gnarled, framed the page. The trees themselves felt “heavy,” like they were weighed down with an oppressive energy, making the whole drawing even more foreboding.

At the heart of the chaos, wolves snarled, their eyes gleaming with a savage intensity. They stood over fallen figures—some in human form, some already shifted into wolves—locked in a struggle so desperate I could almost taste their fear. The fight to survive was being fought on the paper that I held in my hands. My eyes raced across the page, taking note of the fallen and the ones still fighting, not yet ready to accept their fate.

She’d captured the conflict from both sides brilliantly, or perhaps it was my memory that appreciated the detail she could never understand. Wolves clawing at the air or their attackers in a final, futile attempt to survive. Among them lay the broken who had already been embraced by defeat.

Near the edge of the trees, a large cabin loomed, almost overshadowed by the sheer violence that surrounded it. It stood firm yet haunted, serving as a silent witness to the massacre. Every inch of the drawing was filled with intricate details, the lines jagged, almost frantic, as if Willow had been driven by the intense desire to capture each horrifying moment. However, no matter how much was crammed into the scene, it still felt incomplete, as if the true magnitude of the vision was too immense to be contained within a single page of a sketch pad.

“Caleb?” Her voice was soft and gentle, and I had the desire to pull her closer, to take whatever comfort she offered.

“Are there—” My voice cracked, the sound barely more than a whisper. I couldn’t believe I could still speak at all. Swallowing hard, I cleared my throat and forced the words out. “Have you drawn more like this?”

Her eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place, a mix of hesitation and fear. She didn’t answer, breaking our stare as she looked away from me, the silence stretching between us, pressing down on me like the weight of the scene in my hand. Blood rushed through me, pounding in my ears as I waited for Willow to answer. “Willow?”

Finally, she nodded, a small jerk of her head, her shoulders tight with tension. “Yes,” she admitted. “There are, but, Caleb…” Willow reached for me, a slight tremble in her hand as it lay upon my forearm, the touch delicate like her. “They’re not any easier to look at. I don’t think you need to see them.”

My breath caught in my throat at the words, making me feel exposed. Vulnerable. I knew I needed to see them, should demand to see them and relive the nightmare of my past, but part of me, the part that was almost shaking with anger as she stood so innocently next to me, wasn’t sure I could handle seeing it. Knowing that she had seen it.

It was too much. These drawings weren’t just images—they were a window into my past, a past that had no right to be revisited.

“Show me.” My voice was harder, stronger. It was a good thing because I couldn’t be weak. “Now, Willow,” I snapped at her. “Show me everything.”

She hesitated again, and then slowly she reached across to the small desk for another sketch pad I hadn’t even seen. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was small, guilty , and I wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, but the words wouldn’t form because I was already staring at the next sketch, and I felt the room closing in on me as the world shifted beneath my feet.

I think I stumbled—maybe I fell—but the edge of the bed caught my hip as I sank to the floor. A dull ache throbbed from the impact, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging inside me. My fingers gripped the book, the pages creasing at the tight hold, grounding me in the present, reminding me that it wasn’t real, even as my mind whirled with the memories of that morning.

Memories I had fought so hard to bury .

But here it was in front of me, the scene where my father lay murdered, his blood spilling around him as life left him.

I didn’t know how long I stared at it, but eventually, I made myself turn the page. I flicked through the drawings, each page a reminder of the past, each as sharp in detail as they were unforgiving in truth. My chest felt tight as my gaze skimmed between the images, not looking too closely, knowing each one was more painful than the last.

It was all too familiar and so dreadfully real.

“Caleb.” Willow’s voice broke through my haze. I hadn’t noticed she’d followed me down, sitting on the floor beside me, her eyes wide and her face pale with concern. “I didn’t know that it would hurt you like this.”

I didn’t know if I could speak, caught so fast between anger and sorrow. My voice was gone. My throat was so dry, the words lodged deep somewhere inside me. I didn’t know if I could keep my anger at bay—anger at what she had drawn, anger at her for seeing this part of my past, anger at it all. When I finally spoke, the brokenness that I carried within me seeped through as my eyes stung with unshed tears. “How could you know? How could you know that it would hurt?”

Willow moved closer, no doubt wanting to give me comfort, but I moved away, needing the space between us. I knew that I wasn’t angry at her, not really. She had no idea what these drawings were or what they meant to me. Or the pain that was unleashed when I looked at them. She didn’t know, but it didn’t make the pain any less.

“This is what I’ve been running from,” I admitted, the confession surprising even me. “These drawings, everything that they represent, I thought I’d left it behind. ”

She reached for one of the discarded sketchbooks, her eyes taking in the scene, her finger tracing the image of a fallen wolf. “I don’t think you can leave something like this behind,” she murmured.

Resting my head against the bed, I tilted my head upwards to stare at the ceiling. I didn’t want to see what lay before me anymore. “It’s like you’ve been made to draw this as punishment,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“Punishment?”

“For leaving,” I confessed. “For walking away. But these…” I looked back at the drawings, gesturing weakly to the memories confronting me. “These are the past reaching for me, ready to pull me back in.”

Willow looked between the drawings and me, her forehead forming that one single frown line that told me so much. “Maybe…” She bit the bottom corner of her lip. “Maybe it’s about reminding you that you’re stronger now. Maybe you’re being shown that you’re ready to face this…” She cleared her throat. “Whatever this is.”

My snort was loud in the hushed quiet of the room, the words hanging between us, and I could see that she clearly believed them, but the fear I felt when I looked at those sketches, that fear didn’t make me strong.

It only reminded me of how weak I had been.

But the memories that had surfaced had done more than just remind me of the past, they had opened a door I’d shut behind me years ago. Now, it seemed that the only way to ever truly put the past behind me was to either step through that door or slam it shut and never look back .

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said, more to myself than to Willow.

She leaned forward and placed a hand on the floor near mine, careful not to touch me but close enough that I could feel her presence. “You don’t have to do it alone,” she whispered. “I’m here. I think…I think we’re in this together no matter what.” She moved her hand closer to mine, almost touching. “You’re not alone.”

Looking at her, her green eyes filled with sympathy, her face one of concern, I could feel the emotion from her like it was my own. Willow’s hand lifted to push back her hair that had fallen forward, but my fingers reached it first. The soft, silky strands felt so delicate between my fingers as I gently tucked them behind her ear.

She watched me, eyes wide but cautious, trying to read my thoughts. I moved back, breaking the connection as I got to my feet.

Willow’s gaze followed me. I could see her uncertainty, and I could almost hear the unasked questions on her lips, but I couldn’t stay in this room a moment longer. Too many emotions battled within me, threatening to pull me apart or pull me under.

“I need air,” I muttered, the words more for me than for her. My voice was still unsteady, my heart still felt like it was ready to punch through my chest, and I turned away from her, uncomfortable with how much she’d already seen. The need to escape, to put as much distance as I could between the memories and her, was suddenly overwhelming even though I knew that wasn’t fair to Willow at all.

Reaching the door, with one hand braced against the doorframe to stop me from bolting from the room, I could feel her eyes on my back. I didn’t look over my shoulder, but I steadied my breathing and tried to quell the emotion within me. “I’m not leaving,” I told her quietly. “I just need air.”

I didn’t wait for her response, walking quickly along the hall of the bunker, the cream walls silent as I passed. Jogging up the few steps that took me outside, I gasped with relief when the cold morning air greeted me. Walking a few steps away from the entrance, I relished the chance to catch my breath.

Without thinking about it, I shed my clothing, my form changing quickly from man to wolf. I needed to break free from it all, and the only way to escape was to run.

I wasn’t running from her or running away; I just needed a chance to regroup. A respite from the sorrow that surrounded me, and a chance to clear my head before I had to face it all again.

As my wolf raced across the bleak mountain, the cold wind whipped through my fur, and I let myself be free. The rhythmic pounding of my paws against the earth was liberating. Being in my wolf form helped me reconnect with myself, and the memories of pain and fear that I had buried deep down inside, while jumbled, were faced as I ran.

The peak stretched around me, the terrain hard and challenging, a reminder of the challenges I’d faced and no doubt the ones to come. With every stride, the weight lifted from my shoulders, the burden of the past a little lighter as my path seemed to be clearer.

For the first time in a long time, I felt something I thought I’d forgotten.

I felt hope.