Chapter 11— Grief Recognizes Grief.
1124 Words
Chapter 11— Grief Recognizes Grief.
Kyra
The note trembled in my hand.
"Mate or not, you won't survive long."
I read the note again and again though it never changed a thing.
The threats were still there.
It wasn't a surprise to me though that I wasn't wanted here. The glare, the sneer, the whispered curses when I walked by had told me how much I was hated by the Banewolffs.
How much they wanted to see my head on a spike. My body rotten in a shallow grave in front of the pack as a sign that their wrath was invoked. But having it written down, slipped into my room— a room that I haven’t stayed in for 24 hours— was unnerving.
Whoever left the note was close, watching my every step and it left me feeling hunted.
Who would have slipped into my room? My gut whispered, anyone. But my brain whispered, Callie. She hated me more than anyone in this pack, more than even Tristan himself.
As I stood in the empty silence of my room, it got me thinking how fragile I was in this tiny little room they granted me.
It wasn't safe. I wasn't safe, not when they could stroll in and leave their message at any time of the night.
Despite the tiredness I felt in my bones, sleep was impossible.
So I slipped out, as quiet as I could. My chest tightened with every step I took. I expected a door to creak open, eyes to gleam at me from the dark, or a hand around my neck but nothing came, only silence and the quiet echo of my footsteps and heartbeat.
As soon as I stepped outside, the cool air hit me, a fresh relief from the suffocating stiffness that had surrounded me. I didn't even realize I was heading towards a different section of the pack until my eyes landed on a lone figure, and my blood ran cold.
Fear gripped me at first until I felt that familiar pull in my chest.
Tristan.
He sat on the steps of a terrace, a bottle dangling from one hand, his other placed on his knee. The faint light from the moon glided over the sharp line of his jaw.
I should have turned around. He was the last person I needed to face right now before I'd be accused of having something up my sleeves but instead my feet betrayed me, carrying me closer.
"Couldn't sleep?" I didn't know what prompted it but the words slipped out softer than any word I've ever said to him.
His head turned, eyes narrowing as if he was weighing whether I was worth answering or not.
He snorted. "Sleep isn't exactly in the cards these days, is it?"
I hovered on the edge of the steps, before lowering myself beside him carefully to keep some distance between us. The night air pressed cold against my skin but sitting next to him brought some warmth, felt safer than the room I'd left. Which was ridiculous because he was no safety.
"The funeral," I said quietly as I broke the quietness that enveloped us. "I'm sorry for your loss."
He released a bitter laugh, "You really expect me to believe that? That you feel genuinely sorry about what happened?"
"I don't expect you to believe anything I say," I admitted, my eyes fixed to the ground. It wasn't like we were friends so why did I feel this way, why did I feel the need to console him, to try and ease his grief when I should hate him?
"But grief recognizes grief that much I know. And I know what it means to lose people you care about in such a tragic way."
Silence stretched between us, making me feel awkward. I was beginning to go over my decision in the last ten minutes. Maybe I should have gone the other way when I spotted him, at least I wouldn't have been in this position but I couldn't just walk away, seeing him like that. The ever-prideful male I'd learnt him to be hunched over with grief.
"I buried more names today than any of my predecessors have ever buried in one night." His voice was thick with grief. I turned to look at him but he looked away staring into the sky.
"Some of them were... boys I trained with. Men who carried me through battles, men and women who tilled the soil making sure there was enough to go around each household. Children, and yet I couldn't save any of them."
"You can't keep blaming yourself for their death." I said gently, "Not when you—”
He cut me off with a bitter laugh. "That's exactly what I'm meant to do. An Alpha takes the blame. An Alpha shoulders every unplanned death that happens under his watch, he shares the grief with his pack just like he celebrates the victories."
"Yes, he does." I agreed. "And you're already doing that. But you also need to find the problem, the solution. That's what you owe them, not grief."
He lifted the almost half-bottle next to him and chugged it down like it was water.
"Does it help?" I questioned, eyes still on him wondering how long he was going to be this way. Sure, he was hurting, grieving but if there was anything I've learnt it's to get a solution.
He gave a humorless huff. "Not really. Just dull it." He rolled the bottle between his palms before tilting it towards me, "Drink?" He offered.
I hesitated a little before taking it mainly because I wasn't much of a spirit girl. Our fingers brushed and it made my heart skip.
The burn of whatever liquor he was taking slid down my throat and I quickly handed it back trying to hold down a cough.
"Not bad," I lied.
He shook his head laughing.
Heat crept into my cheeks. "What's funny?"
His eyes twinkled and one corner of his mouth twitched, the closest thing to a genuine smile I’d ever seen from him. "I just realized that you are a terrible liar."
"No, really it wasn't bad," I said my voice sounded high-pitched even to my ears.
He guffawed, laughing harder which made me smile. I guess his grief was easing up at my expense.
I grabbed the bottle trying to act indifferent and chugged down another bitter burn that made me wince.
The bottle passed between us again, back and forth until the air between us felt comfortable, relaxing like the rivalry between us never existed in the first place.
At one point I began to laugh at some stupid jokes he was making.
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