Page 72 of The Wolf's Mate

Coming to Mescos was supposed to be my new start. For years, I dragged my family through the pits of hell. It only got worse when my father died because, instead of processing the guilt and grief that comes with losing a loved one, I acted out even more than I did while he was alive. I partied, drank, fucked around to outrun the grief.

It destroyed my family. My beautiful mother turned into a mere ghost of her former self. She did her best to keep me in line, but I’ve always been impulsive. I don’t mean to hurt people, but no matter how good my intentions are, someone always seems to get burned because of me.

I saw this time and time again with my sweet sister. She’s just a kid but had to grow up before her time and be the big sister I wasn’t capable of being.

Leaving is the best thing I have ever done for my family. I gave them the ability to start over. To not have to worry constantly about money, where our next meal would come from, or if I’d make it home that night without winding up in a jail cell.

Basically, I’m used to being the fuck-up.

But I thought things would be different here. I thought I would be different.

Except I hurt people I love once again. And I do love Rip. I’m not sure when that happened, but I have fallen for him completely. He makes me feel safe. Like I can bring some good to the pack.

I guess we were both wrong.

I’m not sure how long I sit on the floor crying. I cry until I finally run out of tears and Grass has fallen asleep at my side. I feel numb, which is a small reprieve from the anxiety and loathing that came in waves before.

I weigh my options on what to do next. I could simply waste away in our bedroom, hoping Rip can fix my mistakes and our enemies won’t attack. Or I can think of someone else other than myself. Fix the mistakes and make sure no more harm comes to my pack.

The answer is easy, and yet there’s nothing easy about what I’m going to do.

I do my best not to wake Grass as I get up and search the room for something to write with. I find a pad of paper and a pencil hidden away in a drawer. For the longest time, I stare down at the blank canvas, willing the words to come. I have so much to say, but I don’t have the words.

Each time I put pen to paper and start writing, I rip it up and try again. My words are that of a desperate woman, sometimes legible and sometimes nothing more than harsh lines of aggression.

After another ten minutes of arguing with myself, I finally settle on my message. It’s short and sweet. Conveys what needs to be conveyed with no excuses. Carefully, I fold it up and scroll Rip’s name on the front of the note. I tuck it away for now before climbing into my empty bed.

It smells like Rip. His piney scent reminds me of home. I steal his pillow and cradle it to my chest. I try not to think that this might be the last time I’m ever this close to him again. I want to imprint his smell on my memory. The way he smiles and his deep laugh.

My heart breaks into a thousand tiny pieces, but my mind is made up. I will atone for my mistakes. I will prove to Rip that Ender was right when he chose me as Rip’s mate. Even if it hurts so damn much.

But right now, I allow myself a couple more hours in my home, pretending Tallie isn’t cursed. Pretending my mate isn’t mad at me. That I don’t have to leave.

And then I fall asleep, dreaming of the life I could have had with Rip.

Chapter 34

Rip

Two healers and Lucielle come in throughout the night. None of them can wake Tallie up. There’s also no wolfsbane ready to cure her yet. The bite she received from the rogue expedited the cursed sickness, meaning Michael and his people are getting stronger.

Neither Imelda nor I leave the infirmary that night. I left the room twice. Once to speak with Hettie and another time to bring my aunt tea and buttered bread. The buttered bread is left untouched on the nightstand, but Imelda clasps the tea in her hands, absentmindedly sipping from it every so often.

My mind isn’t my own. I’m plagued with images of my cousin lying lifeless in bed. What hurts the most is Hettie’s face when I sent her away. Out of everything she admitted to me tonight, the one thing I truly believe is that she’s sorry. That was evident in the pain on her face and the plea in her voice.

I’m a mate torn. I’m so fucking mad at her. Mad that she took this risk and lied to me. Mad that Tallie got hurt. Despite all of that, though, I want to take Hettie into my arms and console her. I was rough on her—for good reason—but it didn’t make looking at her broken and sad any easier.

I grapple with my decision to send her away for hours, crammed in a small, uncomfortable chair. Darkness soon gives way to daylight as the sun peeks in through the curtain. It illuminates Imelda’s face. She stares at Tallie, unmoving. Since we’ve been here, Imelda took her daughter’s hand in hers and hasn’t let go since. Not even when the healers came to check on Tallie.

I don’t think we could pry her away from her daughter even if we tried.

I feel so fucking useless right now, and my body hums with pent-up energy. I need to move. Need to run. Need to do something other than sit here and feel bad for myself.

I push out of the chair with more force than necessary. Imelda jumps at my abrupt movement, giving me a strange look. “We should eat. Do you need food?”

I don’t wait for her response or give her time to refuse as I leave the room. My body works on autopilot, walking down the hall. I pass a few familiar faces but don’t have the energy to attempt conversation. When I pass the waiting room where Hettie and Grass were last night, my stride slows.

I don’t know why I’m disappointed to see no one there. I made Hettie go home, sending guards to take her directly to our room like a damn criminal. Of course she won’t be waiting out here for me.

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