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Here. With me. My people.
Whole and healthy and strong.
Chris said, “It’s okay.”
Tanner said, “We can feel it too.”
Jessie said, “All of us.”
Rico said, “Right here, papi. Right here with you.”
Robbie said, “We won’t stop.”
Kelly said, “No matter what.”
Carter said, “Because that’s what pack does.”
Elizabeth said, “That’s what family is supposed to do.”
Joe said, “We fight back.”
Ox said, “And we never stop.”
Mark leaned forward and kissed me sweetly. I closed my eyes, and it was dirt and leaves and rain and he said, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
And I believed him.
I believed all of them.
Because I was feral strong and wolf proud. There was magic coursing through my veins, singing as loud as I’d ever heard it.
I was Gordo Livingstone.
I was the witch to the Bennett pack.
I turned back toward the door.
In between the door and me stood a white wolf.
I hated him.
I loved him.
I was so angry with him.
And somehow I let it all go.
Somehow I forgave him.
“I’m sorry,” I told him.
His eyes flared red as he whuffed in response.
“I need you now. Please.”
He leaned forward, pressing his nose against my forehead, and I said, “Oh.”
I opened my eyes.
