Page 32 of The Awakened Wolf

But what I was doing right now was ruminating.

The sky was melting, color and form blending into one another as the sun sank behind the twinkling Manhattan skyline. Venus shone bright and blue against the last lick of fire, her brethren winking to life as the dome of the sky darkened. The city looked as it always did—alive, vibrant, and pulsing with creation.

Looks could be deceiving.

If I’d had the Empire State Building’s telescopes, I would have seen the chaos that had flowed into every gritty corner of the city like smog. There were so many anti-shifter riots that Governor Mantel had brought in the National Guard and declared a curfew. A curfew! In the city that never sleeps. I thought that only happened in apocalyptic movies. My wolf rustled at this thought, but I shushed her. It was like lulling a fussy pup. The last thing I wanted to do was wake her. She’d been set to ready-to-rage ever since the stupid kiss with Evan, but at this moment she was quiet.

Thank Leto.

But knowing that Godwin Moone had been given permission to invade the Plaza with his death wolves, along with more NYPD than I knew the city had, was rattling. At least the core Manhattan pack members got out: Max, Mateo, Kenzo, the Guard, and family servants like Ruby. And anyone’s pups, of course. They were all in a safe house, somewhere, but it wouldn’t do as a long-term solution.

Worse, Max was still being all weird and agro.

When Kiana asked him—grudgingly on my behalf—where he’d “stashed the hippies,” he’d said they weren’t family and didn’t give any other details. He didn’t need to say that he’d abandoned them. The thought was churning in my gut. Along with another one.

Like son, like father.

I might be wrong, but I’d guess that toxic late-night burrito of fury burning through my intestinal lining might be why I was ruminating instead of reliving my glory days of marshmallows and Little Women.

At least my wolf’s fatigue gave me room to think about the son and all the ways we might have done things differently—that I might have done things differently. He had every right to be angry with me, slipping into his bed while withholding the truth of his existence. Without my wolf’s obsessive focus on the fate match, I could think about the human being I’d hurt.

He was more than just the hero who saved me the first night we met and saw me safely home. More than the guy who was terrified of the Roosevelt tram but tried to be tough. More than the male who cared enough about what I might like to buy me a movie theater, and then ate popcorn out of my hand. Most males barely saw their mates as more than pup-makers unless they were fated. Sometimes even then. But in only a few weeks, Sebastian had become the closest thing I’d had among my own kind to a best friend. That was what I missed.

Who I missed.

I wish I’d tried to get to know him as much as he’d tried to get to know me, instead of always pushing him away. Now who knew if I’d ever get that chance? Tears pricked at my eyes, and I swiped at them angrily. Then again, I knew him better than most, maybe even better than himself. I’d known he was a Beta that first night when he’d sent his disgusting packmates scrambling. His power hadn’t worked on me, and he may not even have known he was using it, but the submission they’d demonstrated was excessive, despite his attempts at playing Alpha.

And then I’d said that to him when he’d Rapunzeled me in the Tower Room. I’d told him I’d clocked him for a Beta Heir tops, like it was a bad thing, and he’d looked at his none-too-shabby arms with genuine concern and said he needed to work out more.

Dear Leto, help me. I think I may have been the Alphahole.

To be fair, I hadn’t known I was right at the time. I’d simply wanted to hit him where it would hurt any Alpha. I’d never meant to hurt him personally, but his insecurities about not being a stereotypical Alpha had to be even worse than Kiana’s, given he was a male. Because if I could pick up a sense he might have Beta powers, he had to have had some inkling. Didn’t he?

Ugh. My head lolled back against the couch cushion where I’d flopped when I came up here seeking solace. Did he spend his whole life feeling broken and weird, too? Like I did for never showing any Beta powers despite being a second-born Alpha child…

Holy shift. I sat up. That’s it.

Kiana was the second-born child. Damien made up the story about our birth order so that the Bronx Beta—Kiana—would end up mating with his child with Beta powers, but while both were believed to be Alphas. They would have pups with massive Beta power and Alpha claims to a joint throne.

No one would question their rule.

No one could defy them.

That had to have been Damien’s goal—to change the entire social order of the shifter world, with himself and his line at the top. No wonder he freaked out when the fate bond ruined his plan.A pairing between Sebastian and myself would have made our firstborn an Alpha, overriding the claim to rule for any subsequent pups with Beta powers. Betas don’t rule, period. They can serve their Alphas or pledge allegiance to a new one if the existing one dies without an heir. Or they can leave.

Damn. I was way down the rumination rabbit hole because for the teeniest, tiniest millisecond I felt sympathy for Damien.

My wolf stiffened, a warning rippling through my muscles.

Not for Damien.

For Betas.

And any shifter who believed they could be a good leader but didn’t have the right bloodline. After spending most of my life being told I wasn’t good enough to rule when it turned out I was the true Alpha and should have been groomed for it instead, I could relate. And honestly? After seeing how Kiana, someone who wouldn’t have been given the chance, had thrived as an Alpha when trained and supported…

It wasn’t fair.

Why couldn’t Betas lead? Not Damien, of course. He was evil. And crazy. He should consider getting CRZY EVIL tattooed on his knuckles or something. But what about Mateo? He never would have treated me like Max did, and neither would Sebastian if he weren’t trying to prove he was an Alpha like his father. It must have been devastating for Mateo when my mother chose my father.

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