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“My dad and I were close, nothing like you and Max, but he was the one constant in my life. I know what you’re going through, and I know it’s not the same but you can talk to me.”
He leaned in and rested his forehead against mine.
“It’s like there’s this hole in the pack bond that nothing will ever fill. I’m hanging on by a thread here. How am I supposed to take care of the pack if I can’t even handle going to my own father’s funeral?”
“Oh, Galen.” I pressed my lips to his in a tender kiss. “You’re handling this the best you can. You’re grieving. No one is judging you.”
“Maybe not today, but they will.” His breath skated across my skin, raising goosebumps when he sighed. “Someone will sense my pain in the bond and take it as a sign of weakness.”
“You’ve been leading them for months.” I cupped his face in my hands. “Look at me, Galen. No one is going to challenge you.”
“Someone will. We’re werewolves, Talia. It’s in our nature.” He pulled away, and stepped out of reach. “We should go.”
I wanted to console him, to reassure him that his pack would stand with him and not against him. I wanted to tell him that he was wrong.
Except, he wasn’t.
Chapter Two
GALEN
We buried our own. An alpha’s life could be violent. It all depended on the man, what type of person and leader he was. But an alpha’s death? Violence was all but guaranteed. They fought their way to the top and fought even harder once they got there.
The scars inside the body and out, combined with the manner of death raised questions. We preferred to keep that out of the public eye.
Although, with demons on the loose and rampaging our communities the secrecy seemed unnecessary.
Old habits die hard.
My father lived and died as the exception. Not the rule. He led the Northwood pack unchallenged until he drew his last breath.
First born sons inherited the title and the reins of power when the alpha died unchallenged or on rare occasions, retired. In some ways pack hierarchy functioned like a monarchy. In others it functioned like a cell block in a state prison.
Still, just because a son inherited the title of alpha, didn’t mean they kept it. Like their father’s before them, they fought for it. More often than not, they lost. Political dynasties were all but unheard of in our world.
The town’s only funeral home had three rooms they used for viewings. We reserved them all. The Northwood pack was smaller than most in the surrounding territories, but my father was well liked amongst his peers. Friends and allies from neighboring packs came to pay their respects.
