Page 6 of Fractured Mates

Neither my wolf nor I will be able to rest until we have this closure. Sure, it’s not convenient that the pack is falling apart and the family I despise most is partly in charge, but I’m twenty-eight. Still young in supernatural years, but old enough that I need to move on. I don’t know another way to do so besides going back.

Except I don’t believe Dawsyn will just let me go if I tell her the truth. As much as I hate lying to her, I don’t stop the words as they leave my mouth. Though they’re not exactly a lie. Just an omission of what I intend to do afterward.

“I’m going to head to New Orleans,” I say, relaxing my shoulders and softening my face. “I have a…special friend there that I need to see.”

She glowers at me but can’t hold back her smile for long. “Special, huh?”

I shrug and return her grin. “I mean, not that special, but my wolf… She’s needy and he’s, well, easy.”

That has her laughing so loudly that sound echoes through the office and has me chuckling as well.

“All right, Sophie,” she finally says. “You go have your fun, and I expect you back here before the new moon. Got it?”

“Yes, Alpha.” I wink at her and turn toward the door, thinking I’m making a clean escape, but as soon as my fingers wrap around the metal handle, Dawsyn calls my name, giving me pause.

When I turn my gaze back toward her, I’m pinned in place by golden eyes full of compassion that have my guilt rising even more as she says, “I know you think you want to be relinquished from our pack, but maybe my dad not being here isn’t a coincidence. Maybe whatever brought you here isn’t, either. Just remember that you’re not alone anymore. You have people in this world who care about you right here.”

I force a smile to my face and nod once. “Yeah, maybe.”

Making a swift exit, I’m out the door and closing it behind me before she can say anything else.

Most wolf shifters are big believers in fate, and I used to be one of them. Until twelve years ago. So, I don’t agree with everything she’s just said, but maybe I will once I’m done with what I know I can no longer avoid.

Going home and facing my demons.

Chapter Three

Kyler

Wind blows all around me, and waves crash roughly along the sandy beach just two hundred feet below the balcony I stand on. The sky has transitioned from a bright blue to a dismal grey, and as raindrops start to pelt against my skin, I wonder if this is the fates rubbing salt in my still-open wounds.

I shove my hands roughly into my pockets and turn around to head inside the small cottage I’ve rented for the couple of weeks I have off.

It’s been mission after mission lately, and while I need this time, I’ve only just arrived and already regretting my choice to spend the entirety of my vacation here.

Fourteen years have passed since my mate was taken from me. Though, “taken” is too nice a word. Cara was ripped from this world, her light snuffed out, never to be seen again.

I let the door slam behind me as I enter the house and see the flowers I’ve left on the table. Every year during this week, I’ve come here and mourned all over again, wallowing in the misery that has become my life, knowing that the best part of my soul will never smile up at me or laugh at my anger over the little things.

My chest is hollow, as if someone has been slowly carving the center out with a spoon over the years. Still, I grab the bouquet and head toward the front door, intent to stop procrastinating. A new emotion to the grief. Each anniversary is different. Some years, I can’t keep my eyes dry for even an hour; others, I don’t shed a single tear. There’s always a certain level of rage simmering, though.

Even with the hesitation to visit Cara’s gravesite, I still sense the unwavering fury that has lived within my heart since she was killed. Yet as I walk out the front door, I can’t deny it’s not as severe as usual. Maybe I’m finally starting to heal.

Climbing into my truck, I set the flowers on the seat next to me and turn the engine over. The rumble of the exhaust mixes with the pinging of raindrops landing on the roof of the truck, but none of it drowns out the ache growing inside me.

My wolf stirs in my mind, not saying anything, but I can tell he doesn’t agree with my thoughts. I don’t bother to ask him what, exactly, is bothering him or why.

He’s barely spoken to me since our mate died. We still work together just fine, but it’s a quiet relationship that we’ve settled into.

As I drive toward the cemetery, I allow my thoughts to drift away and only focus on the pain inside me. My wolf stays present but still silent, and I begin to wonder what I might be missing, what he’s not saying.

It wasn’t until I arrived in Virginia that I realized how off I felt, but for the first time, it’s not in a bad way. The darkness I’ve been drowning in since losing Cara isn’t as bleak as I expect. There’s a softness to the grief, almost like it’s slipping away. As if I’m letting her go, but the tighter I try to grasp the pain, the further it seems to float away, like it’s her pulling away. Not me.

My wolf growls quietly in my mind, and I know I’ve just figured out his displeasure.

It’s not as if I want to, I say to him, even though he should already know my true feelings.

Still, he doesn’t respond.

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