Page 49 of Broken Bonds

“I don’t think your nightmares will stop unless you do. Could be wrong, though,” he says with a careless shrug, relaxing back in the chair he’s in that just barely holds his massive frame.

Despite the creaking of the wood under his weight, he pretends he doesn’t hear it and closes his eyes.

Maybe he’s right. Out of everyone here, he is the only one who has gone through something similar with his sister. Since the day she passed away, he’s been visiting her grave and spending hours at the cemetery each time he visits.

Does he speak to her when he’s out there? Does he tell her about our lives? Get angry at her for leaving? Tell her how much he misses her and wishes she was still here?

While I may not have the chance to talk to Lake directly, I can still make time to visit his gravesite. He might hear me, he might not, but I’ll get everything that’s been plaguing me out finally, and maybe the nightmares will cease.

Gods, I fucking hope they stop.

Deciding to go, I stand from the couch and slip my shoes on. I quickly let the guys know that I’ll be back later before grabbing my keys from where they hang by the door and leave the house.

I still have a few hours before sunset, so that should be plenty of time to say my piece. Or at least some of it.

* * *

The path to the burial site Ramsey chose for her alphas is clear as I walk uphill, a breeze rustling my hair. The cemetery is empty, with no one else out visiting a loved one or dropping off flowers in sight. I tuck my hands in my jacket pockets, shivering slightly at the bite of chill in the air.

Fall has slowly given way to winter, and the days progressively get colder as they go on. Something you’d think I’d be used to by now, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the bite of the winter chill that trickles down from the mountains.

The plot slowly comes into view as I make it to the top of the hill, and I note they all received their headstones. There’s a bench near the tree that sits closest to the four graves, something Ramsey must have had arranged so she could rest when she visits. As I approach the four headstones arranged side by side, the first thing that catches my eye is the phrases written on the back of each one, radiating in the light. I take the time to read each as I walk closer, starting with the one on the left and making my way down the line.

“I am but a wilting Rosebud in a winter storm without your presence here to protect and water me so that I may continue to grow.”

“To the moon and back and around the galaxy, I will always look for you in the endless skies and within the Starfire.”

“A Princess without her Prince is but an ordinary girl, waiting to be rescued. I’ll wait in my tower for you, always.”

“I am the Petal you caught on the breeze, and now I let the wind carry me wherever it may take me, until once more we can be together.”

As I walk around the last one, Lake’s headstone is the first to greet me. A sensation of tightness in my throat and the momentary blurring of my vision are warning signs of the tears that I attempt to hold back by quickly blinking them away. The dirt mound in front of the headstone remains, with the red dirt slowly becoming flatter as time moves on. Someone recently paid a visit, as evidenced by the fresh flowers placed in front of each headstone. My initial thoughts point to Ramsey as the one, but with the considerable number of people that attended the funeral, it’s possible it could be someone else. The entire community had so much admiration for my brother and his pack, and they share the sorrow Ramsey and I feel because of their deaths.

Once my vision is clear, I crouch down and trace the letters and numbers on his headstone with my fingers, feeling the smoothness beneath my fingertips.

Lake Michael Daniels

January 19, 1993-October 10, 2022

Loving alpha, brother, and friend. Forever missed and in our hearts.

Could it be that Ramsey included the brother part in there because of me? Or did she do it for her other alphas, who I’m sure he came to look at as brothers, much like I have with Forde and Rion?

It’s a nice idea to consider that this was penned with the intention of me being able to connect to it.

I sit there, crouched down with my gaze fixed on the sizeable chunk of granite, attempting to make sense of my thoughts and organize my words in order to express what I want to say. It’s been an entire decade of the same thoughts running through my head, and now that it’s time to finally get them out, my mind has gone blank. There have been countless things I’ve longed to say to him and tell him about, but right this second I’m struggling to come up with a single one.

I’m sitting here with no idea of how to begin, and the fact that I’m merely talking to a giant rock with his name on it doesn’t make the task of figuring out what to say any easier.

How do people do this?

“Do I just talk like you’re here and pray that you somehow hear me wherever you are?” I huff, running a hand through my hair and ruffling it.

No answer. Not that I expected one.

“I’m so damn mad at you, brother. Do you have any idea how long I’ve looked for you, just for you to be so close and then to go off and godsdamndieon me?” I growl, clenching a hand around the top of his headstone to steady myself.

Crickets. No response. And there never will be, which only serves to make me fucking angrier.

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