Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,192

he and Mark found each other again. He was unshackled. Free. “Regardless of what else he did, I can’t ignore that.” He looked to the only other person who should have had any say in the matter.

Gavin looked down at his hands. “I can’t forget. Or forgive.”

“I know,” Gordo said. He squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “And I don’t know that you have to. I could have….” He shook his head. “I could have been like him. Followed the same path.”

Gavin jerked his head up, eyes flashing orange. “You’re not. You’re not bad. Not like him. Good Gordo.” Then, “Mostly.”

Gordo snorted. “Thanks. I think.” He sighed. “What do you want to do?”

In the end, it was simple. Deep in the forest, they found one of the oldest trees that grew in our territory. They dug the hole themselves. It wasn’t like it was with Will. There were no pretty words, no songs to be sung. It was dirt and sweat. No one cried. As Livingstone was lowered into the ground, the rest of us stood at a distance, watching Gavin and Gordo stand above their father’s body.

Gavin bent over, scooping up a handful of dirt from the ground. He held it over the open grave, let it sprinkle down onto his father’s body. He kissed Gordo on the cheek but didn’t leave him. He waited.

Gordo stood above his father for a long time.

Then he said, “You tried. You really tried, didn’t you? But you failed.” His chest hitched. Mark started forward, but Mom stopped him, shaking her head. “You failed,” Gordo said again, voice hoarse.

We let the brothers go. They walked away through the trees, side by side.

Rico and Chris and Tanner filled in the grave.

Later, much later, when the events of that winter were nothing but memories, I went back.

I stopped in front of the tree and stared down at where Livingstone lay.

From the earth, wild roses had bloomed, covering his final resting place.

The petals were thick, the vines tough.

The thorns sharp.

CASWELL WAS IN AN UPROAR.

They’d felt the moment their Alpha had left them.

They thought he’d died.

They were confused. Scared. I couldn’t fault them for that.

They looked to Joe. “Show us,” they begged. “Show us.”

He did. His orange eyes. And he said, “It was always supposed to be me. Ever since I was born, I was told I was going to be this person. This figure. This Alpha. I’m sorry if you think I’ve failed you. I’m sorry if you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to. But you are never alone. You will never be alone. This line of kings and queens, of wolves and men, it was never the be-all and end-all. There will be others. I promise. I am here for you. We all are.”

“We don’t have an Alpha!” a man in the crowd shouted. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Joe nodded. “This is a new future, and one you can decide for yourselves. In my time as the Alpha of all, I learned more than I had in all the years before. We’ll find someone to take my place. Someone who loves you as much as I do. My father told me something once. He said that the measure of an Alpha is not the power they wield, but the strength of their pack behind them. And you are strong. I know that now more than ever.”

IT WAS SPRING WHEN the garage reopened.

We all gathered on Main Street, the scent of new brickwork and paint strong and pungent. The buildings that had been damaged in the fight against Livingstone and his wolves had all been repaired, but it’d taken longer for the garage.

I found Gavin in our room beforehand, standing in front of the mirror, scowling at his reflection. His hair was a little longer, and he was starting to fill out, losing the gaunt, haunted look on his face. But the scowl was familiar. I hoped it always would be.

“There you are,” I said. “We gotta get going. Can’t be late.”

“I know,” he muttered. “I’m almost done.”

I went behind him, settling my hands on his hips, hooking my chin over his shoulder. He leaned his head back and sighed. I bit back a growl at the sight of my mark on his skin.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, watching him in the mirror.

He was quiet for a moment. Then, “Big. Today feels big.” Words were coming easier to him. He was still prickly and blunt, but more and more of him was coming out. I