Alpha Queen (Claimed by Wolves #4) - Callie Rose Page 0,45
fought for so long against one another? I’m lost in every damn what-if and could-have-been that my brain can conjure up.
Lawson blinks as if his eyelids have become too heavy to keep open, and some of the light seems to have faded from his eyes when he finally focuses on me again. His breathing has gone ragged, raspy, like every inhale and exhale takes more and more energy out of him.
He shakes his head as if to clear it and looks into my eyes, determination on his face. He’s holding death off, forcing it to wait just a little longer, so he can speak.
“Wi-witches,” he gasps out. “They k… eep base on Wolfs...bane. Bi-ig bunker. Can’t see i-it unless you’re up it.”
His voice dies out, and his eyes close again. This time, they stay closed, and his breathing slows. Grows even. Then stops entirely.
His fingers loosen in mine.
My brother is gone.
18
Sable
A dozen emotions flow through the expression on Ridge’s face. No one moves or speaks for a long time, as Camilla’s wall clock audibly ticks away the seconds after Lawson’s death.
I want to comfort my mate, but I don’t know how. I feel as useless and hopeless as the day Malcolm died, and during those days after when I couldn’t fix things for Archer. This kind of devastation from losing someone you love isn’t something I have experience with, since my parents died when I was a baby and all I ever had after that was Clint. God knows I didn’t really grieve his death at all.
So I don’t know the right thing to say or do. I just stand at Ridge’s side, my hand on his arm, and give him the time he needs. We all do. A million hours could have passed in this space and time, but we don’t count them. Grief isn’t something you can measure or try to quantify. It just is.
Finally, Ridge releases Lawson’s hand, laying it gently on his brother’s chest before he turns to look around the room at us. I don’t even recognize his face, it’s so hard, so completely lost to grief.
“We need to tell the Elders,” he says. His voice is rough and strained, so that it sounds as if it’s painful for him to even speak. “We need to tell them about the bunker on Wolfsbane Mountain.”
“A few weeks ago we didn’t even realize Wolfsbane Mountain exists,” Archer says, shaking his head.
“The witches’ home base.” Trystan’s lip curls as he says the words. “We’ve never known where they hole up.”
“Well, now we do, thanks to my brother,” Ridge says shortly. “We have a target to attack if we want to take the fight to them.”
Archer takes a single step forward, and every gaze in the room turns to him. “We’ll take care of it. You… need a minute.”
It isn’t a question, and Ridge doesn’t deny it. He just nods and looks back down at his brother’s body. Conversation closed.
Trystan, Dare, and Archer file from the room, presumably to go meet with the elders about this new information. While Ridge stands staring down at Lawson, I process exactly what knowing about the bunker means.
We know where the witches roost. We know where they sleep, where they plot. We know where Cleo’s base of power is.
Despite Ridge’s grief, I feel a prickle of something that’s almost like hope. Could we actually beat them at their own game? I’ve been at Cleo’s mercy for days now, and the stress is weighing on me, making me feel like I’ll never come out of this alive. What if I can? What if we can storm this bunker, surprise them at their own game, and annihilate them? Cleo included.
Ridge turns away from the body abruptly. “Camilla, can you see to his preparation?”
The shifter woman nods. “Yes, Alpha Ridge, of course.”
“Thank you.” He motions for me to follow him, and we leave the healer’s cabin in silence.
Outside, in the warmth and quiet of the early evening, Ridge stops on the road and stands still as a cool mountain breeze races past us. His face is impassive, showing none of the emotions I know he has to be feeling right now. He doesn’t look like himself. He’s a shell, like the man I know is breaking inside.
I take hold of his hand and tug him in the direction of Archer’s cabin. I may not know what to say to make him feel better, but taking care of him? That, I can do.