Page 189 of Cursed Bonds: An Alpha's Destiny

I ran for a couple hours, finally returning to the hospital near ten at night, only to find that everyone had been discharged. That made me feel like even more of a asshole. Waylan must have taken Kirsten and Harley home while I was running around in the woods like a dumbass child.

I jumped in my truck—someone had turned off the ignition and closed the door—and went home. Waylan was sitting on the porch, nursing a beer. My skin itched like it wanted to crawl off my body as I stomped up the porch and turned in a circle. A caged animal, unsure what to do with himself, ready to lash out.

“Are you good?” Waylan asked, his voice low and worried.

“I don’t…I can’t…” I hissed a breath out through my clenched teeth and did the only thing that made sense at the moment. Turning, I slammed my fist into one of the posts of the porch. The wood splintered and dented from the force of my blow. Even my strong shifter bones ached at the impact, and I shook my hand, wincing in pain.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Waylan barked. “You’re losing it, bro.”

I flopped down on the rocking chair beside him and buried my face in my hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like everything is out of control, and I can’t stop it.”

“That’s fine,” Waylan said, his voice still hard. “But you need to remember that the last time you lost control, Kirsten left you. Remember that?” He punched me in the shoulder. “If you don’t get your shit together, that’s going to happen again. This isn’t the Jace I know. This isn’t my best friend. What the hell is up with you?”

I let out a miserable groan and told him how impotent I felt when compared to Kirsten, Flynn, and even Langston. When I was done, he stared at me with what could only be called pity.

“I get that,” Waylan said.

“You do?” I asked. “Seriously?”

He nodded and looked out at the night-shrouded yard. “I’m a beta, Jace. If anyone understands feeling less or not as good, it’s me. If I allowed those thoughts in, think how I’d feel around you? You’re bigger, stronger, faster, more powerful—more everything. I’m not even on Langston’s level, and he’s a sigma. He’s got more stealth, more endurance. Again, more.”

“You can’t think like that,” I said quickly. “You’re no less than me or Langston. You have no idea how important you are to the pack.”

He gave a rueful chuckle. “And isn’t that what you should be telling yourself? You’ve got no reason to be jealous of Flynn or Langston. You’re the alpha of Crestwood. You lead people, and they love you for it. If you’re telling me I have no reason to feel inadequate as a beta, then you’ve got nothing to be whining about.” He gave me another hard look. “You’re an amazing alpha. I’d follow you to hell and back, and I’m not just saying that because you’re the alpha. I’d do that even if you were a beta like me. The whole pack trusts you to lead us and keep us safe. Now, get your head out of your ass and man the fuck up.”

His words hit me hard, crushing the self-pity. Waylan was right. There were bigger issues to worry about than my ego. I didn’t need to prove myself to anyone but me. I was stupid, and in that stupidity, I’d done my level best to keep pushing Kirsten away.

Before I could thank him for his words, a truck roared up the driveway. I didn’t recognize it, but when Tank jumped out, I realized he must have borrowed a vehicle from someone since his was totaled.

“There you are,” Tank huffed, walking toward us with a laptop under his arm. “You could have let me know you’d come home. Been running all over town looking for your ass.”

“Did you get the security footage?” I asked.

“Sure did. Oliver’s a great guy, but he’s not real tech-savvy. Took him a bit to figure out how to pull it up, but I’ve got it. You’re not gonna believe it, though.”

He opened the laptop and balanced it on the porch rail. My stomach clenched in worry as Tank pulled up a window. A black-and-white clip showed Tank’s truck and a few scattered vehicles sitting in the parking lot. A few seconds into the video, a blur of motion caught my eye.

“There!” Waylan said, pointing at the screen.

A small form emerged from the woods beside the parking lot. A wolf, young. It sniffed, moving from car to car, until it came to Tank’s. It spent a few moments smelling the passenger door, then shifted to its human form. A small child, no older than eight or nine from the looks of him, crawled under the truck. After about a minute, he slid back out, shifted, and disappeared into the forest. Less than fifteen seconds later, Tank, Kirsten, and Harley came out of the store.

The first thing I felt was immediate relief that it wasn’t Stephanie, followed by guilt that I’d doubted her after everything she’d done to redeem herself.

“Rewind that,” I said. “Check if we can get a clear look at his face.”

Tank did as I asked, then took a screenshot. The face wasn’t terribly clear, but I could make out his features, the shape of the nose and chin. None of us recognized him.

“How did the little fucker get in?” Waylan asked. “We’ve put teams on all the entrances to town.”

“Yeah,” I grunted. “So did Eren, and we still got into Scottsdale.”

“Fair point,” he admitted.

“Tank, go get Stephanie. She was in Scottsdale long enough that she may recognize this kid. We need to figure out what’s going on. I thought we got all the kids out.”

“You got it,” he said, and hurried to his truck.

“Is Kirsten inside?” I asked Waylan as Tank pulled away.

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