Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,47

my chest as he landed on top of me. I made a small croaking sound as the timber wolf covered me completely. “You… dick.”

He growled again, the underside of his snout pressed against my face.

I was about to shove him off me when I heard it.

Something big moved through the forest toward the cabin.

It pulled at my head, little whispers that I couldn’t understand.

An Alpha.

“Oh no,” I whispered into Gavin’s throat.

He spread himself out on top of me as the lumbering beast drew closer. His tail lay across my feet, his back legs against my shins. His front legs stretched along the sides of my head, and he rumbled softly in his throat.

I turned my head slightly toward the window, able to see it with one eye.

It was late afternoon. The snow had stopped falling an hour or two before, leaving what I thought was a good foot outside. The light was gray and weak, and I could see the trees in the forest.

For a moment, at least.

Because then they were blocked out by something massive in front of the window. It was vague, what I was seeing through frosted glass, a hint of shape. There was black fur over hard muscle, what I thought was a forearm. And then a large, misshapen hand appeared on the glass, long claws scraping against it as the pull of alpha alpha alpha crawled over my skin, foreign and cold.

It moved away from the window as it circled the cabin, the floor underneath me quaking with every step it took. Gavin’s heart was sonorous, a slow drumbeat against my chest.

The beast growled as it reached the south end of the house. I felt it down to my bones.

Gavin lifted his head slightly, looking toward the other window.

I tilted my head back.

A red eye stared in at us.

It blinked once. Twice.

The beast growled again before it moved away from the window.

And then it was gone, its footsteps fading away as it went back into the forest.

We didn’t move until we could no longer hear it.

Gavin rose above me, ears twitching. He was careful as he stepped off me, going toward the window, staring out into the forest.

“We can’t stay here,” I told him quietly.

He didn’t look at me.

I didn’t sleep much that night.

not fair/thump thump thump

Kelly said, “You have to make a choice.”

I pushed a branch out of my way. The snow crunched under my feet. The air was startlingly cold, and Kelly’s hoodie didn’t do much to keep the chill away. I had a coat, but I’d left it in the truck. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and everything was blue. The morning sun felt like a lie as I shivered, my breath trailing behind me in a stream.

Kelly said, “He’s not going to let you stay.”

“I know,” I muttered. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face.

Kelly said, “Then what are you going to do? I don’t get it, Carter. You tried. You really did. You made your case. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want to go with you. Leave before Livingstone kills you. Just leave them both and come home.”

I stopped and closed my eyes.

I felt him watching me. Even though he wasn’t real, even though I couldn’t hear his heartbeat, his gaze was boring into my back.

“Joe,” I said.

“What about him?” He sounded irritable, like he was done with my shit. This Not-Kelly was just a figment of my fevered imagination, but he felt like a truth I wasn’t ready to face.

“He told me that pack is everything. But then he looked at me with this weird expression on his face. He was… ten? It was after he’d shifted for the first time. That fire was back. I could see it in his eyes. He said that he didn’t agree with some of the things Dad told him.”

“Like….”

“The need of the pack outweighs the need of everyone else. He didn’t like that. He said that if a member of his pack was in danger and he had to choose between them and the rest of the pack, he knew what he’d do.”

“What?”

I held a branch out of the way for him. “He would do everything he could to save everyone. That no one would be left behind, no matter what.”

“That’s not—”

“Gavin is a member of our pack.”

Kelly hung his head, looking down at his boots. “Shit.”

“I’m not an Alpha,” I told my brother, needing him to understand. “But I have