Alpha’s Strength(81)

Her damned mother had shot herself before he’d had the chance to end her. Or keep her tied up until the pack could eat her alive.

Betsy might already be dead. Betsy might already be dead. He fell to his knees on the grass. If she perished, he’d go wolf and never turn back. He was Alpha. He didn’t have to be human. Mitchell would run the pack. There could be no life without Betsy. No way to exist in a world without her presence.

“She’s not dead yet.” He spoke aloud so he could hear his own words. Why hadn’t he told her everything that needed to be said? Why hadn’t he simply explained to her that he needed her to hide in the basement because if this happened, if this very scenario took place, his life ended? Why hadn’t he shared with her his intent to come to Montana and why he needed to risk his life for her, for the pack? Why the fuck had he left so many things unsaid?

The light of the moon shone down on him. It wasn’t full, but it made him shiver. Cyrus stared up at it where it sat in the center of the sky. He never looked up at it anymore. Not since he was a child. His knees gave out and he hit the ground.

“Hello,” he called upward. “Can you hear me?” If anyone else could, they’d think he was nuts. This wasn’t how werewolves communed with the moon. Silent prayer was fine, but no one shouted at the big blob in the sky.

Except he didn’t give a shit. Wasn’t this how his forefathers had done it? Hadn’t they howled for the dying Lily and begged to be human to save her?

“I’m here. I’m right where I’ve always been, one step from lost and making all of this up as I go along. I can’t seem to figure out the damn plan. I don’t really even understand why we are werewolves. What good does it do in modern life? It gets harder and harder to hide us. And we’ve all fallen from whatever purpose we were apparently supposed to have.”

He cleared his throat, knowing he needed to shut up. Instead, he kept speaking because, really, what did he have to lose anymore?

“I killed Shepherd. I won where so many had failed, and I’ve worked every damn day since to take care of everyone. You took my parents. You took Lucian. I fight, I struggle, and I work. I don’t sleep. I never complain. And then you give me Betsy, the first thing that I ever really wanted for myself, for only me. And now you take her back like this?” He growled. His whole body ached, feeling as though it were being torn from the inside out.

“She’s not dead yet.” Beaux knelt down next to him. Cyrus hadn’t noted his arrival outside. The whole world could come marching in, and he’d probably not note it.

“What are you doing out here?” Cyrus didn’t want company. Of course, Beaux might be the perfect person to begin his rampage of destruction on. Why hadn’t he made this whole lair more secure? Why had he dragged them to his place to begin with?

Betsy would not be in this situation if it weren’t for Beaux…If the other Alpha hadn’t attacked their car, they wouldn’t be now faced with Betsy being critically injured. .

Cyrus growled. Maybe Beaux did need to die.

“You think I’m not blaming myself?” Beaux correctly interpreted Cyrus’ growl, which really pissed Cyrus off. Why did he have to be so correct all the time? “I’ve found myself here more than once. On my knees. Particularly when my mate died.”

“What?” He hadn’t known Beaux had mated. Not that he’d kept up with him. He hadn’t even known Beaux still lived in the world. But the news of the mating still took him by surprise. It seemed something the proclaimer of all things wolf would have mentioned.

“She wasn’t my true mate, but we loved each other.” A muscle in Beaux’s jaw ticked. “She was killed, struck down by a car on the street when she’d gone to the grocery store. Ten years ago. We’d been living like you live—pretending to be human most of the time—when she died. After that, I hit my knees and swore I’d find a way to return to the way things should be.”

“I’m sorry about your wife.” Cyrus sighed. “But I don’t pretend to be human.” He gritted his teeth. “And I actually owe you some thanks.”

“What for?” Beaux shifted on his knees.

“For reminding me I’m on my knees.” Cyrus stood up. “I’m never on my knees. I’m the fucking Alpha of Manhattan, and someone still needs to be punished for this. That I can take care of.”

His mouth watered. He could still spill blood to avenge his mate’s pain.



****



Betsy’s childhood home smelled cold. It made his nose tingle and his hands itch. Had it always been so completely soulless? He doubted it. Anywhere Betsy lived would have been lively and joyful, but her scent no long permeated the walls.