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“What do you mean you saved me?”
A lone tear escaped down her cheek, her eyes darkening as she recounted her grief.
“The day you were born, little wolf, was the day you died.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Who the hell just drops a bomb like that? First, she’s somehow my mother, and then she told me that I wasn’t even supposed to be alive. Was it too late to seek therapy?
“What the hell, Granny?” Hunter hissed, sensing my unease.
“You wanted to know the truth of it.” She eyed us. “This is me giving you that truth. It’s harsh and cold, but I’m not one to sugarcoat things.”
“That’s for sure.” Wolf snorted. “But you aren’t one for giving the truth either.”
Granny sighed, shame shining in her eyes again at his words. It must have hurt to see the disgust and disappointment in his gaze.
“Let’s get on to the rest of the story.” Granny blinked a few times, her head shaking slightly as if to clear it before she took another measured breath.
“How did you meet my father?” I asked. “You said he was your fated mate, but he was with your brother…”
Granny bit her lip. “A few of us had started a small community of shifters. We stayed hidden in the forest, nestled amongst the mountains. There were a few humans as well, but not many. I don’t know how he found it. Maybe it was fate, or maybe my brother kept tabs on me for far longer than I thought. Who knows. He came striding up the main thoroughfare on his horse, a few other shifters following close behind.
“He said they needed somewhere safe. Away from the clutches of my brother. I should have questioned him then. Found out his true motives. But I was so caught up in the mating haze that I ignored every red flag.”
She’d started a community…shifters…
“My name is Elizabeth Freyalda Constantine.”
The blood drained from my face as I put the pieces together. I’d never spoken the name of my pack before because it had meant so little. Very few shifters referred to its name. We’d always just called it a compound. There’d been so little information about how the pack had come together. All of our literature and knowledge came from what the High Council had deemed worthy and legitimate. It all came from texts that had been written by previous High Council members.
“Your last name is Constantine.” I let out a breath of disbelief. “You’re the one who started the compound. You created Pack Constantine.” Hunter and Wolf exchanged a bewildered look.
Granny gave me a sad smile. “Yes,” she admitted. “I created your pack, Freya. And in their desperate hour, when they needed me most, I abandoned them. If I had chosen them over you, it might have turned out differently.”
“How? How would it have turned out differently?” I snarled. “Do you know what they do in that pack? What they allow and believe? Is that what you believe? The bigotry and hatred? Was that started by you?”
She shook her head, her gaze never leaving mine. “No, dear one,” she insisted softly. “But I am the one who let the devil in.”
“Her father.” Granny nodded at Hunter’s question.
“He changed, but by that time, it was too late. The poison his men had been spreading through the pack had already taken hold.” Her breath stuttered, another tear slipping down her face. “I told you that the curse came with a price that most people refused to pay. I’d thought it was our transformation into shifters. That we were essentially immortal. And it was, in part. But there was a separate cost. Just us. My brother and me, for creating it.”
“Because magic needs balance,” I whispered.
“Yes.” She pursed her lips. “My brother, over time, had begun to age. It was slow, barely noticeable for the most part, but he was aging. He still would have lived for hundreds of years more before he became fully mortal again. But that wasn’t enough. His thirst for power and strength had consumed him. He wanted more. That was why he created the ritual, but it wasn’t enough. The magic only slowed the degeneration. Nothing he did fully stopped it.
“Maybe if I had been paying more attention, I would have been able to stop it.” She smiled over at me, and I could see the depth of love she held for me in her gaze. My parents had never looked at me like that. “You were born on the blood moon. A powerful symbol of what was to come, but also a deadly omen.
“You were so tiny. Smaller than any shifter baby I had seen birthed. I knew you were an omega then and there, but you had the strength of an alpha. I held you in my arms, and when you cried for the first time, it sent a ripple through the pack. Even in those days, there had been regression among shifters. Barely anyone found their fated mates, and more and more shifters were born without the ability to fully shift into their wolf form.”
“Why?” I asked. “There weren’t any wars or hunts. Human integration would have been minimal. It would biologically take generations for that to happen.”
Granny chuckled. “You have to remember that although it feels like time is fleeting to you, shifters have been around since four thousand B.C. Whole lines of shifters were no longer producing offspring. When you let loose your first cry, more than ten percent of the pack had found their fated mates. I’d cried tears of joy at that moment, and in the next, I was screaming for your father to bring you back.
“I was so caught up in my own world,” she continued, “that I didn’t see what was right under my nose. I should have known my brother would have a plan. You were the first shifter born of his bloodline. Blood that was the key to the ritual he created for youth. Your father took you from my arms as my brother burst through the door of our home. I thought it was to protect you, but he handed you over without a second thought.”
Her throat bobbed; pain scarred across her face as she recounted the story.
