How Bad It's Gotten
1378 Words
Roman
It hit midmorning. No warning. No build.
One moment my wolf was there. Steady. Present the way it’s been since Mira arrived, the connection to my territory humming low and certain. Then it was gone.
Not quiet. Not pulling back. Gone like someone cut the power.
My mouth kept moving. Finished the sentence. Must’ve made sense because Aldric nodded, made a note, and the meeting kept going while the inside of me went dead.
I’ve gotten good at that. Keeping the outside moving while the inside stops. Three years of practice.
Got through the morning. Don’t know how. Reports. Patrol updates. Arguing with Dray’s rep about the northern routes. Skimmed along the surface of myself. Said the right things. Made the right calls. Underneath was nothing. Just a guy in a room who used to be an Alpha.
An Alpha without his wolf is a person with good instincts and a heavy title. Thought about that a lot these last eighteen months. Thought about it now because I was living it.
Hands flat on the table. Didn’t let them shake.
Session ended at noon. Got to my study. Door shut. Stood there in the middle of the floor. Still nothing.
Two fingers to my wrist. Habit. Checking for the wolf like you check for a pulse. The territory bond was thin. Not gone. Could still feel the shape of my land, the outer edges. But the detail was gone. The threads. The specific, live knowledge of where my wolves were and if they were safe.
Couldn’t feel Mira.
That was the worst part.
For three days I’d felt her here. Not like the bond used to be. Not in my head. Just a low awareness. A warmth at the edge saying: she’s here, she’s safe, she’s forty feet east and pissed at her notes.
Now there was nothing. Silence. The room. Me breathing.
Ate at my desk. Worked through the afternoon dispatches. Signed off on the northern patrol rotation. Wrote back to the coastal territory about trade. A week late. Normal stuff. Running a pack.
Learned that’s the move when the wolf goes quiet. Keep moving. Keep working. Don’t sit still long enough to feel what’s missing.
At two, it came back.
Not gradual. All at once. Territory hit me like a wall. Wolves. Land. All of it mine, all at once. Eyes closed. Breathed.
Two hours.
Longest it’s ever been. Record was ninety minutes, eight months ago. Bad week. Pack was stressed. The tree dropped two more branches. Three days without real sleep.
Two hours.
Opened my eyes. Grabbed a pen. Wrote it in the margin of my private record. The one Aldric hasn’t seen. Book shut. Back in the drawer.
It was getting faster.
Didn’t tell Aldric. I know that’s probably wrong. He’s my beta. My second. The one person who could actually help. Hiding this is the same mistake I’ve made for three years. Deciding what people get to know instead of trusting them.
I know.
Still didn’t tell him.
Some things get too real when you say them. Two hours without my wolf becomes a problem to fix the second I speak it. And I’m not ready for anyone to try fixing this.
Not because there’s no fix. Because the fix is the one thing I can’t ask for.
Lyra found me at the training field at dusk.
Heard her coming from the far end. She walks fast, direct, like the ground’s in her way. Got our father’s stride. I’ve got our mother’s. Older wolves tell me.
Kept running through the form. She stopped at the edge and watched. Finished, rolled my shoulders, turned.
Lyra’s been looking at me the same way for three years. Doing the math on what I did and what it cost and getting the same answer. Not hatred. Something harder. Love that hasn’t forgiven you yet and isn’t sure it will.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Good evening to you too.”
“I’m serious, Roman.”
Picked up my water. Drank. Said nothing.
“Sena told me about yesterday. That you conceded the resource question.”
“It was the correct call.”
“I know it was.” Arms crossed. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Lyra’s better at this than me. Saying the thing. I spent so long learning not to say things I forget other people don’t have that rule.
“Then what are you talking about?” I said.
“You.”
I waited.
She came onto the field. Stopped in front of me. Close enough I could see under the expression. The thing she keeps locked down in public and decided not to lock down now.
She was scared. For me.
“I’ve been watching you for three days,” she said. “Since she got here. And you look—” She stopped. Pressed her lips together. “You look better than last week. Better than last month. And that should be good news but it isn’t, because I know why, and you know why, and it doesn’t fix anything.”
“Lyra—”
“Don’t.” Her voice dropped. “Don’t manage me. Not right now.”
Kept my mouth shut.
The field was quiet. Other wolves had cleared out. Either they left or Lyra cleared them. Knowing my sister, probably the second.
“How long?” she said.
Knew what she meant.
“A while,” I said.
“How long, Roman.”
Not a question that time.
Looked at my sister’s face. Fear under the control. Love that survived three years of anger. And I told her. Not all of it. But enough.
The silences. How often. The record in the drawer. The tree. The way Mira’s presence changed things this week, and the way that didn’t change where this ends. Because she’ll leave and I won’t ask her to stay and the wolf will go quiet again and eventually it won’t come back.
Said it plain. The way I say everything. When I finished, Lyra didn’t move.
“You need to tell her.”
“No.”
“Roman—”
“No.” I’m not doing that.
“Then what are you doing? Because from here, it looks like you’re dying carefully so nobody has to watch.”
Felt that land. Didn’t let it show. Something Lyra’s always hated about me. How I can take a hit and keep my face exactly where I want it.
“I’m handling it,” I said.
“You are not handling it.”
“The alliance—”
“Is not more important than your life.” Her voice broke. Barely. She pulled it back fast. “Nothing is more important than your life. Do you get that? Nothing.”
Looked at my sister. At the anger and the fear and the love all crushed together in her face. The face I’ve known since she was four days old and I was four and had no clue what a sister was yet.
I do now.
“Lyra,” I said.
She waited.
“I know,” I said. “I know.”
Wasn’t enough. Knew it wasn’t enough. But it’s what I had.
She stared at me. Then she did something she hasn’t done in three years. Stepped in and put her hand on my arm. Brief. Not a hug. Not forgiveness. Just her hand, there and gone.
“Fix it,” she said quiet. “Before it’s too late.”
She walked off across the field.
Watched her go.
Wolf was steady in my chest. Present. Warm. Territory all around me. Mira was in the pack house, east wing, probably working. Could feel which way she was without trying.
Didn’t leave the field until the light was gone. Didn’t go inside until my face looked like the Alpha I was supposed to be again.
Fix it.
Turned the words over. Been trying to fix it for three years. Problem is, fixing it means asking for something I already took without permission once.
Not doing that again.
Rather lose my wolf for good than look at Mira and make her think her freedom is the price of me surviving.
Went inside.
Didn’t sleep.
- Writer
