Page 62 of Curses & Kitsune

God. Why did I say that? I can’t die. I can’t. Not until I’ve told him how sorry I am face to face, kissed him one more time, told him I love him.

Tears trickle down my cheeks as the world around me fades away.

“I’m sorry.”

Chapter 22

Gunfire makes my ears ring at the same time as burning pain courses through my shoulder. Snarling, I squint through the pain at the man with the rifle. He’s grown out a bushy salt-and-pepper beard the same color as his long hair, but there’s no mistaking those eyes, lined around the edges and cold as they are.

It’s my father. Kenta Noboru.

“The next one goes through your skull,” my father warns, aiming the rifle at me.

I make my claws shorten to blunt nails, holding up my hands to show him I’m not a threat. My body pushes out the bullet and begins to heal.

“Who are you?” my father asks. “You don’t smell like the pack.”

I struggle to swallow or to even speak. The last time I saw this man, I was eight years old. He had his suitcases by the door, his back to me. He didn’t even say goodbye as he walked out. Emotion fogs my eyes, and I clench my jaw so it doesn’t shake.

“Answer me!” my father snaps, motioning with the rifle. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

I clear my throat and say, voice shaking, “I’m your son.”

Noboru freezes, drawing in a sharp breath. His wide brown eyes, the same shade as mine, dart all over my face. “Well, shit.” He huffs and lowers the rifle, but he keeps his finger on the trigger. “Come to kill me for leaving all those years ago?”

“Thought about it,” I admit, lowering my hands. “Looks like you’re still running off on people.” I look outside at the corpses of yakuza strewn in the mud.

Noboru grunts, looking down at his feet. “They blamed me for the attack. I had nothing to do with it, but I was their only suspect. They’d been questioning my loyalty for months.”

I scoff. “Wonder why.” The man hasn’t got a loyal bone in his body. If Noboru didn’t betray his pack, then who fed information to the hunters that resulted in the attack?

“You look like your mother.”

I clench my fists at the comment. “That’s funny,” I say, not feeling in any way humorous. “She said I look like you.”

His gaze snaps up to mine. “You saw her?”

My fingers twitch. “Yeah.”

Noboru averts his gaze, propping his rifle against the wall. He scratches the back of his neck, then asks, “So? How is she?”

“She’s in the hospital. Lone Wolf Sickness.” I scan his face for anything, a flicker of guilt or remorse, melancholy. Anything. But I get nothing except a surprised blink. “You really fucked her up when you left.” I lean back on the wall and fold my arms over my chest, needing some kind of barrier between me and him so I don’t thrash him.

Noboru huffs. “I’ll probably go the same way, now that my mate is… gone.”

I think I catch a hint of something in his voice, maybe sorrow, but the man before me is an empty husk. I doubt he’s capable of feeling much of anything anymore. It’s what he deserves. I’ve never believed in karma, but there’s a first time for everything. “Doesn’t look like it was worth it, huh?” I can’t help but rub it all in his face. “Leaving me. Leaving Mom.”

He glares at me through hard, narrow eyes. “No. Guess it really wasn’t. But I’d still do it again. I wasn’t meant to be a dad, but your mother was the breeding type. And look at how you turned out. A thug, just like your old man.”

My knuckles crack across his jaw. I wasn’t even aware I’d moved, not until my fist hit his face. He doesn’t have time to recover before I’ve grabbed his dirty jacket and slammed him against the wall. “You broke my mother’s heart!” I snarl, and I hit him again. His nose snaps, and blood soaks his beard. “Left us to fend for ourselves!” Noboru’s head whips to the right with the force of my punch. “You ruined our fucking lives!” And just for good measure, I hit him one more time so hard my finger breaks.

Noboru slides down the wall, eyes rolling back, face covered in blood. I snarl through clenched teeth, doubled over in agony until my finger snaps back in place. My father’s broken bones heal, and the cuts close, but his face is still a bloody mess. He snorts wetly and horks out a wad of blood-tinged saliva. A tooth flies out.

Wiping away blood, he says, “You throw a good punch.” He rubs his bloody fist on his pants.

I want to hit him again, but I’m out of breath. Stumbling back until I’m against the wall, I sink down onto the floor. The wind howls around the cabin, and the branch of a tree scratches the roof.

“If you’re not here to kill me, then what do you want? An apology for being a shitty dad?”

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