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The wolves sighed at the door.
“Do you understand, hunter?”
“Y-yes. Yes.”
“Repeat it back to me.”
“Oxnard M-Matheson. Green Creek. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.”
“Good.” Joe stood upright, eyes fading. “Stay here until you can move again. Richard won’t return.”
“How do you know?”
Joe grinned wildly. “Because he knows I’m right behind him.”
And then he turned and walked away, pushing through his brothers and leaving the cabin behind. Carter and Kelly followed him a moment later.
I pushed myself up, dusting off my jeans.
King said, “I heard—I heard Thomas Bennett was gone.”
I contemplated picking up his knife from the floor and driving it into his chest. “And?”
“I’ve never met an Alpha before. He’s… strong. Stronger than I’ve ever seen a wolf be.”
“He’s just a kid,” I muttered.
“Maybe. But that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Power. It always has been.”
I was done here. I turned and headed for the door.
Then, “Livingstone.”
I sighed. “What?”
“They didn’t all die.”
A chill ran down my spine. I turned slowly to look back at him. His skin was pale, and I wondered if he’d ever make it to Green Creek to give Ox the Alpha’s message. “Who didn’t all die?”
He coughed. It sounded wet. “When they came for Abel Bennett. The pack. Green Creek. They didn’t all die. Some crawled away. Some ran. But others… they watched from the trees.”
“Elijah.”
He smiled weakly. “She’ll come. When you least expect it. And if you think the beast is the worst thing in this world, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Gordo!” Carter shouted from the road. “We gotta move!”
“Don’t die,” I told King. “You have work to do.”
And then I turned and followed my pack.
HE DID die.
Months later, after we realized the deaths were circling back toward home. Toward Green Creek and those we’d left behind.
He did die.
What was left of him was in pieces. In the end, Richard Collins found him in a motel in Idaho. His severed head was found on the bed. A contact had sent me the photos.
