Hunted (Pack of Dawn and Destiny, #1)(92)

She glanced at Greyson, who was still stalking like a caged wolf. “Greyson was brought in…because we believed he was the only wolf with enough power to match yours. Anyone lesser, and you would have taken away leadership from them.”

Hudson had to leave…because of me? Lynn was ripped from the Pack she grew up with, all because of me?

“No,” I whispered. “No. That’s not possible. I didn’t mean to do anything like that!”

“You might not have meant for it to happen,” Pre-Dominant Harka said. “The majority of the effects of your rare magic are often unconscious. But…”

I didn’t want to hear any more. I couldn’t.

My throat closed, and I felt sick. I launched myself over the railing of my porch and ran.

Tears clogged my eyes, and I couldn’t see as I ran back up the path, hiccupping as I tried to hold my sobs in.

Everyone loved Hudson—I loved him! And because of me…

Greyson had to be brought in because of me. He’d left Colorado to take over a Pack he knew nothing about because of me.

Hudson—the one wolf who felt like family to me after Papa Santos and Mama Dulce—had left the Pack he’d grown up in and run…because of me.

My side burned, and a sob finally escaped from me, making my shoulders heave.

I tripped and fell, scraping my knees on the gravel path. I sat in the dust, and cried.

How could I? What was wrong with me?

I’d had my family ripped twice from me now.

That I was responsible for ripping apart an entire Pack?

Greyson appeared in my hunter senses, blazing like a white star.

I didn’t realize until he was standing in front of me that he was in his wolf form. I could barely make out his stark white body in the smear of the forest because my eyes were already swelling from my tears.

I wiped my face off with the hem of my shirt. “W-what?” I asked. “What is it?” I expected him to nudge me to my feet, or maybe growl in my face to get me up.

Instead, he leaned into me, pushing his furry head against mine.

There was something about the gesture. Even though I couldn’t communicate with him like other wolves could, I knew what he was saying.

I’m with you. You’re not alone.

Considering the lifetime of goodbyes I’d said, knowing that he was standing here—when he could very easily blame me for ruining his life—and was supporting me in my grief…it meant more to me than he could possibly know.

Greyson—who I had blamed for the loss of Hudson and Lynn when they’d actually left because of me—was here with me.

I felt like I’d learned a part of my life was a lie—that I wasn’t who I thought I was. In fact, I’d caused so much pain to the wolves I had loved dearly. And Greyson was still here with me, even though he was one of the ones I’d unknowingly wronged.

The last tiny remnant of the grudge I’d nursed against him evaporated, leaving me to acknowledge that trickster Greyson had somehow wormed his way into meaning more to me than I’d understood.

That he was here, with me—that he’d tried to protect me—meant a lot to me.

I started sobbing again and threw my arms over his muscled shoulders.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, Greyson whined and jabbed his wet nose in my ear, then scooted closer, curling protectively around me.

I rested my head on his chest and cried—for everything I had lost, for all the heartbreak I’d caused myself and those around me, for the unfairness of everything.





Epilogue





Greyson





I checked for the third time that Pip was really sleeping on the couch before I headed into the bathroom.

By the time she’d stopped crying and we’d come back to her home, Harka, her nephew, Hector, and Ember had left.

Someone—Hector, going by scent—had brought the cat food inside, and Ember had turned on the lights, so Pip didn’t have to fumble around in darkness as the sun started to set.

I’d waited until she’d made it to the couch and mashed her head into a couch cushion before I slipped outside to grab my clothes and change back into my human form.

When I came back inside and she didn’t say anything snarky to me, I knew she was still feeling pretty awful about it.

I fed her cats and hung around the cottage—trying to offer the comfort of nearness as well as I could without risking upsetting her more.

She’d passed out, though, giving me a chance to check on my arm.

I yanked up the sleeve of my shirt, clenching my jaw to hold in a growl when I brushed the new, black, tattoo-like brand on my bicep—a wolf paw.

Brushing it jolted a deep awareness of my mate through my body, filling my mind with her location, breathing, heartbeat, and more information than my brain could process.

Yes, I had figured out who my mate was, in the middle of the fight with the hunters. I’d been out of my mind with concern for her as the overwhelming sensation of the bond twisted around my heart. Then I’d felt it, the cord of connection between my mate and me. Immediately, every intention I had to reject the bond disappeared.

I grimaced as I mentally reached for the bond, and felt nothing.

There was a black, gaping hole where the connection formed by the bond usually settled in a wolf’s mind—the spot where you could feel the person, to the point where you almost existed in two bodies.