Don’t need anyone to try to be my savior

Amaris

We cover the distance back to the pack quickly, so quickly that to my still trying to acclimate mind, it shouldn’t be possible to cover so much ground in such a short amount of time. By the time Glendon meets the four of us at the tree line, the sounds of the battle fought are long gone and are now replaced by the painful cries of the wounded, and the anguished wails of those who lost friends or loved ones.
Glendon’s appearance is broken and full of sorrow-as the Alpha, he feels each loss on a level that only other Alpha’s who have also experienced loss can understand.
The streets that, just yesterday were filled with kids playing and families enjoying time out in the sun together, are now littered with the bodies of both friends as well as those that attacked them.
“Dad,” Zach says, coming up to his father, but the Alpha merely holds his hand up to stop him. It’s only by that action that I realize that his entire body is shaking. Looking at him closer, I take in his closed, pinched eyes, clenched jaw, and trembling lower lip. His entire demeanor is closed off, from him holding off his son, to the way he’s holding himself, his shoulders hunched as if he’s physically aching, but other than some bumps and bruises that have already begun to heal, he looks as though he is fine. Which makes me wonder...
“Alpha did somethin—“ I start, but he cuts me off, and the look that he casts towards me is not that of my Alpha, but instead that of a broken man.
“Amaris, I’m sorry, but I need to speak to my children,” he says, his voice lacking its usual authority.
I glance from Glendon to each of his children, the moment that the seriousness of what he has to say hits them overly obvious as they each nod their heads in understanding and follow their father, walking away from me hand in hand with one another.
The urge to go with them, the desire to comfort them, is all-consuming, and it takes everything within me to keep my feet planted, knowing that whatever information it is that Glendon is about to relay to them will not be good.
‘*They will be okay,*’ my wolf says, trying to be reassuring, but I can’t help the lead weight in my gut that tells me that their world is fixing to be rocked.
Needing a distraction, I turn back towards the carnage littering the pack lands and begin helping to move the bodies of our fallen brothers and sisters, as well as those from the attacking pack.
One after another, bodies pile up until there is a small hill of them off on a side that I hadn’t been to yet, and only found from following other people who were doing the same as me.
Unfortunately, even with the distraction, it isn’t enough to ease the ache that I feel in my chest over walking away from Kenton all over again.
‘*It’s because we’re supposed to be with him and we’re not,’* my wolf says with a sad sigh, not missing out on the chance to remind me of how I am failing at being a mate and fulfilling the mate bond.
*I know. And I feel the bond, strongly. But, my reasonings for leaving, for staying here, aren’t finished,* I’ve explained this to her before. She has made a point of letting me know every day that I’ve been with Glendon’s pack, each night that we’ve not been by our mate’s side when we’ve fallen asleep, or been lying next to him when we awoke, she’s made sure that I know that I’m not where I’m supposed to be. But she doesn’t seem to understand my reasons for why I can’t go back yet.
*I still need to be able to be the Luna that my pack, my mate, deserves,* I say, trying to put my reasonings into words that maybe she will understand. *In order to do that, to be that, I need to know everything that I can and be able to be as strong as I can. And right now, with not knowing who I am or where I come from, I’m not who they need. Not yet, anyway.*
“So, you’re the new girl that everyone has been talking about, huh?” A deep, masculine voice says from my right, pulling me from the internal argument that I’m getting tired of having.
“Everyone?” I ask, surprised by this news.
“Oh, yeah. It’s not every day that there is a new shifter that is brought into the fold of this pack. We rarely marry outside of our pack, therefore, when there’s someone new, it’s the kind of news that gets around,” He says, mock whispering the last part as if it’s some kind of big secret that people are talking about me.
I take in the man before me, noting his strong, masculine features and his dark complexion. And his long, almost black hair, and dark brown eyes, much the same as my own. It’s strange to see someone who looks so much like me amongst a pack of people who all have blonde hair and blue eyes, making me wonder if he’s not originally from this pack.
As if he’s able to discern the direction my thoughts have taken, he says, “I’m a transplant—or, well, technically, I’m adopted into the pack since rogues destroyed my pack. Alpha Glendon and Luna Cherice allowed the family that I live with to take me in when I was just a pup and raise me as their own.”
“I’m Maxon, by the way,” he says, holding out a dirt and blood-covered hand for me to shake. I glance at it with a raised eyebrow, and then back at him. “Oh, shit,” he says with a chuckle as he pulls his hand pack, dropping it to his side, and then wipes it against the leg of his jeans, which aren’t much cleaner than the hand itself.
“It’s fine,” I say with a small chuckle of my own. “And my name is Amaris.”
“So, Ames—is it okay if I call you that?” He asks, and although I can see his lips moving and know that it’s obviously him speaking, all I can hear is my brother’s voice saying that same stupid nickname.
Suddenly, I’m no longer on the outskirts of the pack lands with Maxon. No, instead, I’m standing over Axel’s still warm and bloody body, the sound of the gunshot still echoing throughout my mind, the beat of my heart pulsing double time in my ears, as if it’s having to work harder, trying to make up for the fact that Axel’s heart no longer beats as mine does.
He holds his hands up and takes a step towards me, as if he’s going to attempt to console me, and says, “Hey, I—I’m sorry. I didn—”
Shaking my head back and forth, I hold my hand up in between us, signaling that I need him to be quiet—that I need a minute.
Hearing him call me Axel’s nickname, anyone calling me that name so soon, is just too much. The pain that hit at the mention of the name was so sudden and unexpected that I have to literally make myself focus on my breathing.
*Take a deep breath in through your nose.*
*Now, slowly release it back out and count backward from five as you do.*
*Five.*
*Four.*
*Three.*
*Two.*
*One.*
*And again.*
I continue to do the breathing exercise over and over again until the elephant that seemed to have suddenly made itself comfortable on my chest eases.
“Just… Mer… or Amaris… please,” I finally manage to gasp out as I continue taking deep breaths.
“Fuck! I’m sorry,” he says, and the look on his face conveys that he truly feels like hit for setting me off, even if he doesn’t know the reason why. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” I say, cutting him off and silently begging him to just drop it. But, if I had to hazard a guess from the next words out of his mouth, I’d say that it’s safe to assume that I don’t have telekinesis, only the ability to see the imminent future.
“No, it’s clearly not fine. If me calling you Ame—shit,” he says, quickly correcting himself with I cut him with a glare. “If me calling you *that* name sets you off, then clearly it’s something.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I murmur, and then shove past him, now needing some time to myself more than I need my next breath.
“Wait!” He says, chasing after me, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mea—”
“Leave her alone, *Maxon!*” Zach demands, but the way he says Maxon’s name as if it leaves a dirty taste in his mouth. And although I understand that he’s trying to help me, I don’t need, nor want, the help.
“I was just—” Maxon starts to say, but is yet again cut off by Zach.
“I don’t care what you were ”*just*”,” he says, using his hands to make quotation marks. “I said to leave her alone.”
“He’s fine, Zach, really,” I try, but he just cuts me with a look that says not to push it. But, he clearly doesn’t know me very well yet, because I don’t need *anyone* to try to be my savior.
Now that I’m beyond pissed, and still desperately needing to be left alone, I growl between clenched teeth, “I *said* that it was fine. I had it handled. And he didn’t *do* anything wrong. Now, please, if you will both stop trying to act like a couple of wolves fighting over the helpless sheep—which, I am most definitely *not* by the way—I just want to be left The. Fuck. Alone.”
Not willing to waste another second as these two have a dick measuring contest, I take off towards the trees, shifting mid-run, knowing she needs this run just as badly as I do.