Page 90 of Wolf's Providence

Because what if the answer was yes?

TWENTY-SEVEN

Caleb

The wind howled aroundme as I climbed the ridge, each gust cutting through the trees like a warning. I pushed forward, my breaths coming heavy as the cold air bit at my skin, the snow crunching underfoot.

The peak loomed above, a reminder of everything I’d fought for and everything I was terrified of losing. My fists clenched at my sides, the tension in my muscles a reflection of the turmoil in my mind.

Eamon should have never let Willow come after me.

The moment I’d seen her through the trees, my heart had stopped.

The fact that she was so ready to confront danger with that defiant look in her eyes, a part of me had surged with pride. But that pride had been extinguished as quickly as it came, crushed by the reality of what she had just walked into. She was brave, no doubt about it, but I couldn’t shake the image of her bleeding to death in my arms.

The thought of her caught in the crossfire of that confrontation, or here on Shadowridge again with me, where she’d been hurt before, was more than I could bear.

Images from the fight replayed in my head like a bad dream. I’d seen the shifter’s eyes light up at the sight of her, knowing he was going to use her as leverage. I felt sick thinking about what could have happened if I hadn’t managed to reach her.

The burden of responsibility weighed heavily on my shoulders, and it felt like it was crushing me.

I reached the top edge of the peak, the point where man or wolf couldn’t climb higher. Not without ropes and tools. I’d never had the urge to get the equipment. The fact my wolf could climb this high was enough of an achievement for me. I was standing at the precipice with the world spread out before me. Dawn was breaking and the sight before me was breathtaking. The trees below were dusted with snow, the mountains in the distance wrapped in mist.

But the image in my mind was of light green eyes filled with ire, soft blonde hair that felt like silk as it ran through my fingers, and skin as soft as the finest cotton—that was where I saw beauty. Her frown when she looked at me earlier was a stark reminder of my failures.

I heard the murmuring of many voices around me, reminding me of my failures. My pack was gone because I was too weak to be here to protect them. Willow’s blood on my claws as I tore into her flesh, mistaking her for the enemy from my past. Listening to the harsh whispers in my ear as they reminded me of how many I had let down.

Why are you fighting?

There’s nothing left for you here.

Let go. Let go of the anger.

Only in death will you find peace.

Aren’t you tired, Caleb? Tired of fighting?

I was tired. So tired of living with this guilt. Looking down at the mountain from this high up, everything below me seemed so…small. So, pointless.

I stepped closer to the edge, the drop below beckoning. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to listen to them, let go, and surrender to the darkness.

For all the pain and doubt to melt away and never bother me again.

Remembering the moments of peace I’d felt these last weeks as I lay in bed, Willow asleep curled up beside me, her faith and trust in me absolute.

Willow.

“Really?” I muttered under my breath, “After all this, you’d kill her too.” I shook my head as if to physically dispel the thoughts. “You really are a pathetic coward.”

But the demons that shadowed me weren’t easily dismissed with a shake of my head.

They clawed at my insides, whispering the same lies I’d fought against for years: that I wasn’t strong enough, that I would always let the ones I cared about down, that I didn’t deserve love.

With every beat of my heart, the memories flooded back—of running alone through the trees, knowing my pack was dead. Reaching the first cabins, I saw the dead of my pack, fallen in their homes, their bodies of no concern to the ones who took their life.

I remembered losing control. I remembered the cold, hard rage that filled me as I went from cabin to cabin, looking into the faces of my pack in death. Climbing the stairs of my parents’ home, I could feel the weight of it all, as the scars of my past pressed down on me. I saw the blood spilled. I saw the mattress still saturated with their blood, even three days later.

I’d skirted the edges of the clearing, seeing the many bonfires as the Cristone Pack celebrated their victory over a pack that was never given the chance to fight back. The doors to the communal hall were open, and I could hear them cheering their victories.I had seen the pile of bodies, human and wolf forms strewn carelessly in a heap, discarded with no respect. I had seen the hand lying at the bottom of the pile. A ring on a finger I would have recognized anywhere.

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