145| MAD DOG

I re-dress quickly, meeting up with my people to help them determine if they should stick around or head home. I’m deeply warmed by their show of support for Darine, but I know - and can feel - just how anxious some are to return to Berner territory. That’s their home after all, not Kiwina.

“If it is of no inconvenience, Alpha,” Lee tells me slowly, his face neutral. “I believe the best course of action is for the Pack to temporarily split. I will escort the children and whomever wishes to return back to the territory. While Khadija remains with those who wish a few more hours here.” His plan has me turning to face Khadija for her two cents on this plan. She nods slowly, her eyes just a little distant, as if calculating every possible option.

“Yes, I agree with Lee. It would behoove us to network with the other Packs while we’re here.” Khadija blinks her eyes back into focus and turns to look at me. “Of course, the final say is your call, Alpha.” She reminds me pointedly, though her tone is neutral. I try not to frown or make any sort of micro expression about the slight tension I feel growing between my two Betas. Had it always been there? Or am I just imagining the sharpness between them?

“I think,” I begin slowly. “That Lee’s plan is solid. I know the kids have been out all night and need to get to sleep soon. I don’t want them making the trip back when they aren’t alert.” I try to be analytical of the situation. It works. Khadija tilts her head, as if considering my words, before nodding slowly.

“That would be for the best.” She finally allows and turns to me. Both her and Lee look to me for orders. Plain, concise orders of an Alpha.

“Go ahead and take the kids, and anyone else who wants, back to the territory, Lee. Khadija, the rest of you guys can remain here and eat, or network.” I tell them, the hum of Alpha orders growling through my chest along my words. The two Betas flash me little smiles of pride before they both nod in sync and Lee gathers the twenty-or-so Wolven who want to return to Berner territory early.

“Wisty,” Craven appears at my side soon after Lee scampers off with the others. Khadija turns to my cousin, giving him a level and assessing look that even I can’t interpret. “Can I talk to you?” He asks me gently, his eyes flicking between me and my Beta. “Privately?” I feel a little rueful smirk tug at my lips, not sure, now that I’m Alpha, there’ll ever be a moment when I’m given full-privacy. I know Khadija and Lee, as my Betas, can easily access me through our Pack bond.

“‘Course,” I reply easily, waving at Khadija towards the open area where I can smell food wafting from. “You guys go ahead and get some food. I’ll be by in a bit.” I relay to her in a firm tone that has no room for bargaining or objection. My Beta frowns at me, but dips her chin respectfully before flicking a warning look towards Craven. Before either of us can speak, the older woman turns on her heel and marches off towards the scents of breakfast meats cooking and distant chatter burbling up from the clearing.

“What’s up, Craven?” I ask my cousin gently, not forgetting our history, but allowing some of the kindness I keep in reserve just for him to show. I know he’s never been intentionally cruel. He’s always been a good soldier. Someone who had to follow orders to survive.

“Let’s find somewhere a little quieter to talk,” Craven tells me by way of answer. When I look at him next, the tall and deadly-looking man has sagged into the worn-out shell I’ve come to associate with the man once known as Mad Dog. I nod easily and we walk past three houses before he stops and plants himself on the back porch of one of the cabin-style places I know are reserved cabins for visitors and new members.

“What’s on your mind, cousin?” I ask Craven again as silence falls between us. His whole body is hunched over his knees, the forearms balanced there barely keeping him upright. A sort of wariness has fallen over my once fearless, ruthless cousin, and it’s really starting to freak me out. I sit beside him, waiting as he takes a deep breath and seems to hold it in, preparing himself for something.

“You know why they call me ‘Mad-Dog’, right?” Craven asks me suddenly, starring out across the backyard and into the tree line with a somber expression.

“Uh..” I begin, a little shocked by the sudden turn of events. I expected him to talk about- well, anything else. He hated his nickname when we were kids, and I can’t say that I blame him. Who’d want to be associated with such a title?

“Petra…” He says our grandmother’s name icily, the word sounds like a curse in his mouth. “She somehow got Paris’ father to divine certain things about the future. Our futures. The next generation. Zariel was too trusting, and saw stuff as it related to the Pack’s future, even without your Mom’s help.” I swallow, feeling an icy ball of dread forming in my throat. “He saw that not all of us would be mated to other Wolven.” A bitter laugh passes from his mouth for a moment, raising his hands and staring at the scarred-up backs. “In fact, only you would.” He shakes his head, turning his hands slowly to stare at the lines of his palms, all mirth slipping off his face. “The rest of us- even a few who weren’t born yet - would be fated to be with non-Wolven. She was furious, racist as she was. That’s one of the main reasons she chased off the supernaturals in the area and went after the Hunters.” Craven’s voice lowers, a look that makes me feel empty filling his face. A look so despairing I nearly bridge the distance to console him.

“But that wasn’t enough. Zariel started questioning her, he was the only one who was aware of her reasoning at the time. And that’s why she had him killed.” Craven sucks in a breath. “But not before finding a way to replace him as the Enforcer of the Pack. She knew how to break us, bend us to her will… She knew the only thing that could stand between her and my absolute loyalty was love.” My eyes widen with fear and I find I can’t move as his hands start shaking. “She saved my fated mate for last. I was still so young then, all I wanted was to make her proud of me. I was willing to do anything-” His voice breaks and he closes his eyes. “She tracked down my fated mate and gave me an order. She didn’t tell me who they were or why I had to do it, but I was ordered to kill the entire family. Not to leave a single soul alive.”

“Craven-”I don’t want to hear this, I realize as the realization that this story is going to end horribly strikes me, but my cousin continues like he can’t stop himself. Trauma rolling off him in his scent of salt and ice, turning the air between us frigid.

“I did it. Quick and quiet, in the dead of night. Slaughtered five before I got to the last room. I could feel something weird about this last room, it’s why I had waited until the rest was done before going in. I could feel something when I went in. A pull. And as I looked into the bed, saw the human laying there…I hesitated.” Craven whispers the last part, his eyes wide and almost vacant as a haunted look flickers across his features. “That’s the first time Petra had to force me to do something. She reached through the Pack bond and-” He stop talking, his voice breaking again. “When it was done, I was so numb…from the pain. Loosing your fated mate- it’s the worst feeling in the world.”

Silence falls between us like a dead weight, shaking the healing cracks in my chest and creating new fissures for my cousin. Even as the seconds tick by, nothing marking the time aside from the too irregular breathing of Craven beside me. I force myself to give him privacy, even if - out of the corner of my eye - I can see the twinkling drops of tears falling from his face.

“Don’t lose him.” Craven warns me in a chilling tone. I know he means Blue without having to ask, the very idea of Blue dying pulling at the ruins of my heart. “I know you’re strong, Wisty, but you have to make sure he’s safe. Always.” His red-rimmed eyes focus on me, the fierce worry that haunts them makes my raw heart ache for my cousin.

“I could just stay away from him.” I tell Craven quietly. It’s a thought I haven’t considered for a while now, not a wholly serious one, but it’s been muttering in the back of my mind for weeks now. A way I could keep the one person I love safe. Forever. You can’t try to break bonds if they’re never formed, right?

“No, if you do that, there’s no guarantee he’ll survive without you.” Craven insists, shaking his head emphatically. I stare at him, not sure I believe that…but there’s truth in his words. There isn’t much of a promise that, if I leave Blue alone like I tried last year, he’d be safe from the drama in my life. The danger could easily catch up with him in an effort to get to me. If I’m with him, I could help protect him. Right?

“My lifespan’s supposed to go far beyond his.” I tell my cousins quietly, my shoulders slouching as the words tumble from my mouth. They reply the words I want to say. The admission that I’m terrified I’m going to be so horribly alone when my mate dies and leaves me on this earth in the future.

“Then…I guess losing him’s inevitable.” My head jerks up as I glare at my cousin. Craven looks at me coolly, calmly, as he continues. “But, Wisty, you should try to enjoy the time you have with him. Make the most of it. It’ll be like, what? Two hundred years?” He asks me, quirking an eyebrow in silent question.

“Wolven don’t live that long,” I shake my head, a little baffled by how easily he’s taking in all of this. I would have thought Craven, of all my cousins, would be the most judgemental.

“But vamps can extend the life of the another if they give them some of their blood.” Craven continues nonchalantly.

“How do you-?” I begin in a stunned tone, but Craven turns to fully face me.

“I know a lot of things, little cousin.” Craven grins smugly. “Ask your father, some of the humans who donate to your Coven are under such regimens.” I continue to look at my cousin, not sure this is the same man I’ve known almost my entire life- Well, actually, I guess it isn’t. Craven’s personality was suppressed for a good while when grandmother controlled him and who knows just how much he learned from the old crone before she died. “At least think it over, little cousin.”Craven tells me gently, reaching one of his scarred hands out to gently pat mine. Surprisingly, I don’t even flinch as the thick, irregular skin touches mine. To my immense surprise, his skin is soft and not roughened where the scarring mars his skin.

“I will,” I tell my cousin honestly, the mental view I have of him slowly unraveling to create a wholly new image. One coated in thick, ugly scars…layers that protect a great big bleeding heart that can never be healed.