[Book One in a three-part series]
At the age of twenty-six, Slater still hasn't met his mate and the pack elders are running out of patience. They want him to either take a mate or step down as alpha. To keep the pack out of the hands of his younger...
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When I stepped into the building I was instantly met with the scent of death.
I frowned to myself as it surrounded me, trying to suffocate me. Emilia and Stellan stuck to my sides, both wearing frowns I was sure matched my own.
"Which one was it?" I asked Emilia.
She sighed and said, "Alastor."
That familiar pang of pain shot through me and my frown deepened. That was the downside of helping—you couldn't always reach the victims before it was too late.
While most of the rescues seemed to adjust to their new lives with time, the simple fact of the matter was we couldn't save them all. Some were in bad condition when we got to them, others became overstressed by the big change, and some just didn't thrive in our care. Death was a natural part of the cycle and as much as I hated it, it was inevitable.
My thoughts traveled back to the three-legged wolf and I blew a breath, wishing I could go back to the day I visited him and made more progress.
"How'd it happen?"
"He was distrustful. Stopped eating, wouldn't let anyone get close, and fought at every turn. Not to mention his body was already badly injured when he came. He didn't have the energy to heal himself and just...succumbed to his condition."
I clenched my jaw, swallowing the frustration that threatened to rise. I knew the risks of this work and knew that some wolves were too far gone by the time we reached them, but it never made it easier. Every loss felt personal.
Emilia hesitated but finally shook her head. "It was peaceful, in the end. He was weak. He just... let go."
Stellan shifted beside me, arms crossed, his frustration evident in the tense line of his shoulders. "It shouldn't have ended like that," he muttered. "He should've had a chance."
"He did have a chance," Emilia said softly. "He just couldn't take it."
The words settled between us. I ran a hand down my face, pushing away the exhaustion creeping in. I hated this feeling—this helplessness that came too late.
But there was no changing the past.
"Where is he?" I asked finally.
Emilia tilted her head toward the back of the building. "We haven't moved him yet."
I nodded and started walking. If nothing else, I could give him the respect he never got in life.
When I pushed open the door, my gaze immediately found him. Alastor's body was curled in the corner, his thin frame still, his breathing forever ceased. Even in death, he looked tense, as if he had never truly been able to rest.
I crouched beside him, my fingers brushing lightly against his fur. Cold. Lifeless.
Too late.
A slow exhale left me. "You were safe here," I murmured, more to myself than to him. "You just didn't believe it."
