I hate that he can make me feel this way, a new storm swishing inside me, and I have to stop myself from glaring at him. A fresh surge of conflicting pain, and I resist the urge to slap him. I sit back in my chair and pull my legs under me, hauling my body in tight to self-soothe, calm the torrent of crazy, and try not to stare at him. It’s hard when he’s right there yet feels a thousand miles away, and my own emotions are in an uproar. I can’t even pick a side and stick to it.
I’m so confused by my idiot thoughts and responses. I want to be mad at him and hate him; I have every right, but when he’s near, I can’t stop this overwhelming pain and heartbreak he causes me, although right now, I’ve added compassion and empathy to that mix, and I’m dying inside for him. Even while cursing him. I want to ease his pain, and as stupid as it seems, I’m devastated he’s closing me out like it has nothing to do with me.
“Where are we going?” I utter it his way, unable to not say something to him, even though he said he doesn’t want to talk. Colton exhales with a sigh that signals he’s not really into answering, but compelled to do so. I can’t sit in painful silence feeling like this.
“To the manor I inherited from my mom. It’s someplace my father had no control over. It’s where we’ve been staying these past weeks. Lorey, I told you, so much has changed.” Colton’s eyes flick my way. He frowns at me, sighs again, and then looks back at the road but doesn’t elaborate. I get he’s currently working through some of his own shit in his mind, but an explanation would be nice. This minimal chat bullshit isn’t working for me.
“Such as?” I push, locking my eyes on him with a flash of stubbornness, and I can’t miss the way his whole body tenses up. The exhale, his frustrated grip on the steering wheel because it’s obvious I’m not going to shut up and leave him alone, and that has him rolling his shoulders to relieve tension while he concludes that answering me is inevitable.
“The pack is divided. Half are here with me, the other at the mountain. There was a fight when I challenged my father for leadership, and it got real messy. With more attacks in the West, the people were turning, and he was becoming a dictator, forcing the people under his command and treating them like they were all his prisoners. I had to do something, and he didn’t like it. He lost! I’m the rightful Alpha of the Santo pack now, but instead of stepping down gracefully as the laws dictate, he ordered those loyal to him to take out me and mine.” It’s an exasperated tone, explaining something he doesn’t want to, and it revs up that aura of closed-off hostility around him. I gawp at him in wide-eyed shock, heart thundering crazily, trying to pull those words together. It hits me that while I was having my existential crisis, so was he.
“I don’t know what to say.” I stammer, side-swept with that revelation of events that I honestly never saw coming at all. That explains that cloak of darkness around Colton. Since I left, his entire world turned upside down, and his father already gave him reason to hate him, making my enlightening news less unbelievable. My memories only added fuel to his fire.
“There’s nothing to say. My father tried to kill me. You were the catalyst. I guess it was you leaving me and realizing I was an idiot and lost the only thing that should have mattered. I failed you, and then a shit storm blew up around me with another vamp attack, and life imploded. My father’s men are at war with his people and still under threat of new vamp attacks. We’re scattered across the north, and I have a sizeable chunk at my mom’s estate, hiding out and scared shitless.” There’s a calm sort of acceptance in his tone, as though he’s not okay, but this is his reality, and he’s dealing with it the only way he knows how.
“Oh, my God.” I feel sick as bile rises in my throat, the levity of the situation finally coming through to me. Everything is in an uproar, and he’s been in the middle of an actual war. I was an idiot to think that he’d been sitting twiddling his thumbs at the packhouse while I’ve been gone.
“It’s not the same size as the packhouse by a long shot, it’s a homestead, but it has some land. It’s isolated from humans, surrounded by forests, and for now, we’re managing to defend it pretty well. I’m more focused on keeping my people safe and giving them a place to rebuild before I go chasing vampires and starting fights like my father seems to be doing. It’s all he cares about, and now knowing what you showed me ... it makes perfect fucking sense. The war was his glory days; he was a commander with an army who jumped to his orders, lording over a united race. I wouldn’t put it past him to somehow deliver a means to the vampires to rile it up again.” The anger simmers in his tone, and it’s evident that Colton has been going through it as I have.
“Do you think we were meant to die in the orphanage attack? Was it him?” I touch on the memory Colton would have seen of Doc and me theorizing this exact question, but Colton shakes his head and glances my way with complete cynicism.
“No, he didn’t seem to know that was coming, and from what you’ve shown me, your death is hers.” He nods at the rearview, so I glance back at his mother. “Her death is his. He wouldn’t have wanted it. And until I challenged him, he was still reeling me along like he thought I would somehow support him in his madness. He didn’t want me dead; he wanted me bound to his ‘loyal’ so I would follow him into war.” That edge of something else clawing in, like maybe anger at not seeing it before.
So, Juan wasn’t behind the orphanage, but he created the tech to disable us. He sold it out there, not caring who got hold of it, because he wanted the vampires to think they had a weapon to restart a war. He had to know that once they got it, they would have the confidence to come at the wolves again, so he waited.
The vampires thought they had a foolproof plan. They aren’t as strong as us, but with something like the isolation box, they would be stronger and have a shot at taking us down this time. This means Juan has to know how to combat it and disable the effects of the box. He would never let them have something that would give them their victory, of course not; he’ll have a master plan that he’s going to sit on until this thing is in full throes. He has to keep his weapon hidden and let this brew long enough to give the packs a need to unite before he brings out whatever that is and proves victorious once again.
Juan craved the union of all the packs, not just the north, and he knew the only way to force that kind of need was to push us back into war. He supplied the possibility and then sat back and waited, his arrogance telling him he would be the one chosen to lead them all. And now he has the answer to their weapon, forcing the packs to select him. It’s his leverage. The wolves from every land will want the weapon to counteract theirs. It shows how insane he is to believe he would reign and lead when, the first time, my mother pushed him off that pedestal. So easy to knock down and replace. Did that teach him nothing?
And then, when he had the steps in place to ignite a second chance at gaining a crown, the Fates intervened instead, and nothing has been a coincidence since. Turning and imprinting me only weeks before the vampire’s first attack—solidifying a white wolf in the midst, hoping to restore the balance because they knew what was coming. Tying me to a Santo. It all makes sense; every single piece of the puzzle fits. They always meant for me to end up in Colton’s arms in the middle of it all. I’m the Fates trying to reclaim a prophecy that Juan keeps trying to destroy.
I turn my attention back to what he said, dragging my brain from that to this. Head a tangled mess of emotions, but the logic of the bigger picture is sliding neatly into place. I pick up on something he said.
“What do you mean bound to his ‘loyal’?” I don’t even know how he could do that.
“Carmen. She’s the daughter of his Beta. He’s always tried to push me to stick with only the wolves he approved of. He hated that my sub pack was never the children of his subs. He just had to accept it, but Carmen, I realize he kept pushing femmes at me from certain houses, and he only wanted me to mark and settle down once you posed a threat.”
And we come straight to the one thing that chokes me up and makes me hate him again. He says it so matter of fact, like he didn’t just stab me in the chest with a dull object and twist it for good measure. He just admitted it. That he’s bound to Carmen and his father wanted it that way. He maybe didn’t say it outright, but he said enough for me to interpret it that way. I fall silent and turn away as tears prick my eyes and make me feel stupid. Crushing that pathetic, ever hopeful, annoying shining light that pops up no matter what I tell it.
I might be the Fates trying to set the scales right, but Colton is not part of that plan because no way in hell would they allow him to be such a dumbass and do such a hurtful and stupid thing if he was my forever. How could he be if they let him mark her and break me all over again? You don’t come back from a betrayal of the mate bond, not like this.
“So, your father’s raging a war with not only vamps, whom he set in motion, but his pack, even though his intention was to lord over you all? And half of you now live in the manor that belonged to your mom, a half-witch? A manor you knew you had but didn’t need. All while I was off finding your mom, who holds the key to us having some sort of powerful gifts to put things right?” I digress, trying to put everything in order and avoid mentioning what a douchebag, selfish, hurtful, cheating dickhead he is.
“Yeah, sounds about right. My mom’s family is mostly gone. Not that I ever knew them, and I only knew I inherited this manor because she left it to me as a gift on my sixteenth birthday with a femme she trusted. It sat empty. She never lived there, so we had some cleaning up to do. Generally, though, I’m guessing she really is a witch, as it was completely untouched, and no one seemed to be able to get in until I tried the door. It was weird but ... a goddamn witch! The strangest part is that I don’t feel shocked. It’s like I knew, but I didn’t. I can’t explain it.” He’s slowly coming back to that swoon-worthy high school jock as he talks, hints of regular Colton shining through, but it doesn’t dampen my hurt feelings.
I allow my eyes to stray back to him, holding my outward cool and trying not to let all I’m thinking spew out at him while focusing on the crucial issues in this conversation and not on him and me. I’m trying to absorb his words and that other slight issue that has been getting to me.
“At least it’s not a vampire. Can’t say that was welcome news,” I answer sarcastically, a little more edge to my tone than I intended, watching that slight change to his expression and completely unable to read it. He half frowns, his jaw tensing a touch, but he doesn’t have any kind of overdramatic response—no instant hatred or recoiling in disgust.
“It is what it is. It doesn’t change who you are. It’s just something to figure out, I guess.” He doesn’t look my way, and I can tell he’s not as okay with it as he’s making out, but he’s also not freaking out and calling me a monster, either. I expected a more significant reaction, to be honest, and this seems anticlimactic. I probably took it worse than he is.
“The sub pack won’t accept me back when they find out.” I point out as if that was ever in my master plan, but I guess it partly is. I mean, everything is upside down, and my plan to leave and run just brought me back to where I started, among the people I left behind—no idea what the future holds anymore, especially if the wolves are warring too. The pack seems like my destiny, even if he is not.
“Why not? You think they’ll care? You’re Alora, and I’m Cole to them. They won’t give a shit if we’re half-breeds. That’s not how they are; it’s how my father is. And we’re not the only hybrids hidden in the Santo pack. Nor the subs. Secrets are rife in my father’s kingdom because he’s an asshole, and it took me way too many years to realize that and see through him.” He grips the wheel, that growl again in the undertone as his own words touch a nerve, and I can tell the whole father thing is getting to him way more than anything else. Maybe finding out about his mom was the final straw.
I grasp at that tidbit of information though, shocked, instantly grabbing at the file marked Colton’s memories but know I won’t even know what to look for in the nineteen years’ worth of them, and instead start pulling names out of boxes to figure out which subs are also half breeds.
“Who? What secrets?” I blurt out, overwhelmed by too many scenarios and thoughts. The downside to having a head full of someone else’s memories is that they are too vast sometimes to know you possess an answer without guiding you to the right visual. I probably have so many things in my head about him I haven’t even opened and explored. I never stopped on any conversations about hybrids in the pack.
Colton sighs, tapping the steering wheel as he guides us onwards and shrugs. Like this isn’t news to him and acting like it’s nothing in the grand scheme of things. To him, maybe, but I spent my life being told I was an impure reject only to find out the Santos have been interwoven with that all along.
What the hell?
“The twins are hybrids. Angelics, actually. Then there’s Meadow; her mother was a shifter, not Lycan, still a wolf, but different. She’s fierce because she’s multi-gifted like you are, and my father made sure no one knew his son was pack-bonded with impure breeds. He couldn’t do anything about them, as they are all Santo by blood, and he’ll never shame his bloodline or admit that most of the pack comes from interbred unions. There are hundreds of supernatural species, wolves are highly sexed horn dogs, and they will fuck anything.” It’s delivered with a callous smirk and a hint of pride at his species being hoes. Only a man would be proud of that.
“Eww, Colton!” I slap his arm, stinging my fingers as I do, disgusted and a little offended by that last sentence. It’s hardly admirable in a species that also likes to mate for life when they pick the right one.
“It’s true and the biggest secret of all. The haze doesn’t just make us want to bone each other; it’s a free-for-all and has been for centuries. I’m pretty sure my father isn’t even a hundred percent Lycan. He can’t trace his roots any more than anyone else, and the history books are a complete fabrication, with every Alpha removing any part they deem shameful. They’re bullshit … like him removing prophecies. I would put money on the fact that the Santo wolves, being all shades, are a massive nod to us being a mixed species. The original Lycans were always brown. Brown with amber eyes. Most of the Santos are gray.”
“Why am I only finding this out now? How long have you known all of this?” I blanch as my head spins, and it’s like I’m relearning the entire history of everything I’ve ever known. All while he’s over there like Mr. Cool taking it in his stride. Barely even a blink that our entire existence is based on horse shit. Nausea envelops me, and I get a little lightheaded with the number of explosions going off in my brain.
“Not long. The Shaman he’s with us now and no longer bound to his Alpha Juan because I’m the rightful leader, and he doesn’t have to obey my father anymore. He can now unleash all he knows without fear of the Fates punishing him for betrayal. He’s a wealth of knowledge. Like what having red eyes in white wolves means, and why you had extra strong powers.” He raises a knowing brow at me, and even that clicks into place.
“You knew?” That statement makes my head spin and I honestly can’t even with him right now. My stomach is all in knots, my palms sweaty, and I think my lungs were on the verge of packing in with the fear of his reaction, but he already fucking knew! I gasp at him, sitting tall and leaning at him in utter disbelief.
“I’ve known for a couple of weeks. It all slotted into place when I found out, and now I know why you found it hard to home in on your abilities and why they weren’t run-of-the-mill wolf gifts. You might say I’ve had time to get used to it.”
I slump back, rubbing my temples with my fingers as everything blurs slightly and the lack of oxygen from gasping hits me between the eyes. I feel woozy.
“What else did he tell you?” I breathe out, feeling surreal now.
“Nothing that important in our current situation. Just general history of our people and the fact you’re not the first like you. Neither was your mother. He knew nothing of my mom’s whereabouts, breed, or my father’s actions before he came to the Santo house seven years ago. The Shaman previous to him died, and he came to us from my family’s origin in Colombia. He never really fell for my father’s bullshit and has always kept his peace and distance from the pack elders and the sub packs loyal to my father.”
It all explains why, after imprinting, he was the one to intervene in the room, and Colton always said he trusted him. Now I know why, and it clicks together, another puzzle piece falling into place. Another random tidbit from our combined past that had more meaning than either of us comprehended at the time.
“Everything is crazy, yet all seem to tie together. Even us.” I drop my hands on my lap, still leaning my head against the rest and suddenly so very exhausted with thinking, feeling, talking. Everything is taking its toll, coming to a massive head, and draining what little energy I have left inside me. I’m heavy and weighted down in so many ways, all while his presence is screwing me up, and I want to curl up and shut it all off for a bit.
“I knew. About us … the whole witch thing. Something in me; it wasn’t a surprise when we imprinted. It’s like I always knew, yet somehow my brain didn’t know-how. Maybe I have her visions, and somehow, when she bound me, I lost their memory. I can’t grasp it, but it’s like all of this was always out of reach of my fingertips, but I knew it was there. When it happened, it was like déjà vu in a sense.” Colton casts me an apologetic look, and I get that hint of regret, slowly filtering my way as if he’s lifting the wall between us a bit at a time, yet it’s too late. A dimple appears with a boyish smile that does nothing to lift my growing black cloud.
I just glare at him, trying to make sense of it but at the same time, hating on him all the more with what he just admitted to me. If he knew somehow, why did he let me go? Why did he reject me?
“Then you’re an even bigger idiot,” I snap, emotionally spent, which adds another layer of fatigue to what I can’t handle—turning my head and staring out the window, tensing up and bristling with that same pain again and fighting my stupid tears. I’m getting so fed up with feeling like shit when it comes to him. And he sits and admits that he maybe knew I should have been more important to him all along. Screw him. It crushes me, and I no longer want to talk and figure any of this out. I want him to leave me alone.
“I learn from my mistakes. I’m here, aren’t I?” I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look. Heart struck with a clawing, slicing agony.
“You can’t undo what’s done. Just drop it, okay. Now isn’t the time to talk about us. We need to get your mom someplace to wake her up, see what she has to say about all of this, and how we unbind these gifts that are somehow going to do something in this shit storm.” My voice is low and husky. I sound upset, yet probably tired, and I can feel him eating away at me with his eyes as he tries to read me.
“I can’t believe I ever doubted you wouldn’t be the Luna we all needed. I was wrong to doubt you, to doubt us. I am sorry that I wasn’t what you needed. I can’t tell you how much I regret everything, baby.” There is genuine sorrow, and it’s just another nail in his coffin.
“Don’t, okay. It’s been a long freaking day, and I’m exhausted. I want to close my eyes and think about all of this later. I feel like my head will explode, and we’re not even getting the whole picture yet. I’ve been running for so long, and I think my body is finally giving up on me.” It’s a hint, turning fully away from him as I try to get comfy on the worst seats ever invented as we bump along a relatively smooth road. Colton looks at me; a long pause of seconds relents, exhaling heavily. He knows defeat when he senses it.
“Try to sleep. The manor is a while away, and it’s not like I’m about to let you out of my sight anytime soon. We have time to talk. I think I also need some headspace to figure some stuff out. I can’t believe my mom is lying behind me. This is all so surreal.” There’s a lightness to what he says, and I blank it.
I curl up against the window fully, not like I needed his permission, but I’m grateful he’ll leave me be. He still thinks that I belong to him, even though he has an actual mate somewhere out there, most likely in this manor, and he needs to remember that. I’m not his, he’s not mine, and when Sierra wakes up and unbinds me, we need to figure out how to keep our distance and navigate this if we’re all going to get through it.
Colton’s story and mine will head in different directions when Sierra tells us what to do. We both need to accept that and deal with it.