15
DARIUS
It rained the day we buried Doc. My heart ached for the man who had been a stalwart of Maxton for decades. He’d delivered Corvin, Beckett and me. He’d set Cooper’s leg when we’d fallen off the school roof trying to skip weapons training class.
He’d been an integral part of our society for so long, revered just below the Alpha General, and now he was dead. Senselessly dead.
The kids from the Sanctum were gone, squirreled away in Canada in an academy for supernatural children until we were sure Maxton was safe. Safe for the young. The world had been turned on its head, and I wasn’t sure we’d survive as the people we once were.
Kitten had come, dressed in red and standing between us all. She’d wanted to pay her respects to a man she’d only met briefly, and that made me like her even more. We ignored the curious looks, instead focusing on the words of Joshua, who was leading the funeral in the place of the Alpha General, who was still recuperating in hospital.
Joshua’s speech was solemn, filled with the many accomplishments of a man who’d lived almost a century, who’d worked hard to fill the dark depths of our society with light, who’d taken in an orphaned Beta and raised her like a daughter. Who’d stood toe to toe with the old Alpha General to ensure that half-bloods were treated better, who’d raised his daughter to harbor them, nurture them.
“Doc was the best of us,” Joshua ended, and it was a truth that spread through the crowd and landed heavily on our hearts.
We dispersed slowly, moving away from the grave strewn with carnations. A hand gripped mine, small and rough, and I looked down to see Kitten’s fingers entwined with mine. I squeezed it back, soaking in the comfort she was giving me so freely.
We had to walk back to the Packhouse, as the Manix didn’t bring vehicles to funerals. In the old days, we came in our Beast forms, and we’d burn our dead on a pyre. But they were traditions that were long dead, as the older generation died out and the younger generation—a generation without Omega females, a generation that got smaller and smaller each decade—became the ones who made decisions.
We walked slowly, the death walk a solemn trudge of respect. “Are you alright?” Kitten whispered beside me, and I nodded.
“I’m okay. Lost, I think. And sad.”
She stepped closer so our footsteps synced and our shoulders rubbed together. “When Lorso died, I dug his grave myself. I knew he’d probably like to be burned on a warrior's pyre, but he made me promise to bury him. He didn’t want the Legion to see the smoke and come to see what it was. Protecting me even in death.” She gave a sad little smile that I wanted to kiss from her lips. “I was thirteen. It took me two days to dig a hole deep enough that the animals wouldn’t uncover him for food. Though he probably would have liked to be devoured by wolves too. He was a great believer inordo naturalis.”She paused. “The natural order of things. But I was young, and the idea of the only person who’d ever wanted me being torn apart by wild animals seemed wrong.”
I squeezed her hand, and my Alphas stayed quiet. Kitten hadn’t spoken much, which I think was a combination of not knowing the words and not knowing what to say.
“So I dug a hole under his favorite tree, dragged his body from his bed, and dropped him in it. No bindings. No rites. I still think about it.”
Beckett stroked his hand down her spine. “Lorso would be proud of the woman you’ve become.”
She snorted. “Lorso would kick my ass for doing the one thing he made me swear not to do.” She looked at us all. “I want to stay in town. I want to stay with you.”
My breath seized in my lungs as I tried to think of the right thing to say. I didn’t want to blow this. “Are you sure? I know you didn’t want all this…” I waved at the rows of housing, at the crowds still around us, even if they were no longer in hearing distance.
“I was raised in the woods, and they’ll always be home.” She chewed her lip. “But sometimes people can be home too, you know?” She cleared her throat. “We deserve to see where this goes. I deserve to know if there is more to life than hiding in the shadows.”
I stopped, pulling her to a stop with me. “We’ll take it slow. Go at your pace. This?” I waved at the three Alphas who stood silently around us. “This feels right, like it was meant to be.” I tugged gently on her hand and we continued our trek home. “I’m not going to lie—I was pretty pissed when the guys turned up with a mystery woman.” I stepped closer, so my lips were against her ear. “But I’m kind of glad they did. Don’t tell them I said that though.”
She smiled up at me, and it lit up an otherwise gray day. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Cooper put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “But first, maybe you should take us home.”
Rustic would bea generous way to describe the place where Kitten had grown up. It was made from stone and small logs, roughly piled together. The area around it was clear, but only for about ten feet in either direction. After that, the clearing was subsumed by the woods, the towering trees hiding the cabin from view. The most innovative thing about the place was the chimney, which seemed to disperse the smoke so that it didn’t create any real beacon, rather just a haze that would be difficult to pinpoint from far away.
She’d lit the fire as soon as we got there, so she could make us coffee. There was no electricity out here, so everything was run through that fire. Cooking, heating water, and keeping warm in the winter. She started the fire with practiced ease.
“You should get solar panels for this place,” Corvin suggested. “We can get you some of those, now that you aren’t hiding.”
She made a non-committal noise, and slid a cup of coffee in front of him. “Sorry, I only have three cups. I’ve never needed more.” She looked around at how the four of us filled the room. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had this many people in my home.”
I laughed softly. “Let’s go outside. It's a nice day, a bit of a break from the oppressive heat this year.”
She handed the Alphas the rest of the coffee and we all followed her outside. The woods weren’t silent, of course, but it was peaceful out here. I hadn’t realized how suburban Maxton had actually become.
“It really is beautiful out here. Peaceful.”
She gave me a bright smile, such a genuine expression of happiness for the first time. “Thank you.”
