Chapter Notes: Caleb's POV
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'Gave up my life for love, but it still was not enough. . .'
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Out of the twenty-three years that I had roamed this earth, there had only been three specific times when I truly wished to die.
The first marked the exact moment when I had evolved from a boy into a man. It was the first time I ever shifted.
The second time had been more powerful than the first, so much so that it had changed me from a Luna-fearing, obedient wolf into one that struggled to maintain his dwindling faith. It was the night Emmy Grace was killed.
And the third time, because of its bittersweetness, made it the most monumental. It was the first time I had ever truly felt what it was like to be completely and entirely whole. Mind, body and soul. It was in the exact moment that I first laid eyes on Ava-Rain.
Wanting to die was obviously not something out of the ordinary for me. Death would claim us all, and fearing it rather than accepting it only wasted time that was already too scarce and precious in this world. But when you finally received what you've wanted—begged for—for such a long time, sometimes it came more like a hard blow than a gift, and not even the long period of waiting in anticipation for the exact moment when you finally died could prepare you for the actual impact.
So I sure as hell didn't expect the first thing to hit me would be a piercing coldness. The sensation wasn't just physical, it was also emotional. Imagine every bit of warmth you ever felt—whether it came from a happy memory decades ago or from that very specific feeling that flooded your entire being from within when consumed by the power of love—was immediately sucked out of your system through an icy kiss and a promise of forever.
After the coldness came fear. As my body weakened with every passing second, I feared every breath that I took because I was thoroughly afraid that each one might have been my last. I feared for what I would be leaving behind. Feared what awaited me ahead. I feared the thoughts and images that began to muddle through my head. Thoughts of words I wished I would have said and faces I wished I could see one final time.
Next, came the darkness, and its blow, by far, hit the hardest. Imagine a night sky without a moon. A galaxy without its stars. A dreamless sleep during an endless night. I thought I knew what darkness was until the very moment I experienced its true nature, saw its true face and learned of its true power. Power that came from being the ultimate predator in a universe where it reigned as King, and we were all just flames of a candle living in a world lit up by our own tiny flickers of light. Power that forced me into seeing that although some of us might burn brighter than others, all it would take was one puff of air to put us all out because, with or without light, darkness would always exist.
Lastly, came the peace. As my senses slowly receded one by one, the gentle hum of silence was like a lullaby, rocking me into a deep slumber of nothingness. An endless tune with no beginning nor end, harmonizing with the soft murmur of my slowing heartbeat, pulling me down deeper and deeper. And the last thought—the only thought—to wander through my mind was how I had never felt more alive.
That's what death felt like.
Or, at least, what it felt like every time that I looked down at my mate and was forced to accept that there was nothing I could do to help her.
No pleads loud enough to break through her unconsciousness.
No prayers powerful enough to force Luna into extending a helping hand.
No whispers from the power of the four.
* * *
I couldn't tell you exactly how long I had been sitting out in the woods. Keeping track of time would have only forced me to keep track of how long Ava-Rain had been unconscious. However, what I did know was that night had fallen a long time ago and, whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not, I knew that sunrise wasn't too far off.
Instead of sitting in the exact spot where I had found her after the ambush, perhaps I should have been sitting by her side, holding her hand and whispering that everything was going to be okay. I should have been begging her to open her eyes, and if that didn't work—like it hadn't for nearly a day—then I should have toughened up and commanded Ava-Rain to put me out of my misery and come back to me. But I did not know if everything was going to be okay, nor if coming back to me was within either of our power.
This time, there had been no voice from the power of the four, no whispers to lead and show me the way. There was just a house full of pack members doing their best to locate the pure bloods responsible, a hunter, who was probably waiting for my return so that she could shoot an arrow through my heart, and Angelie, who had been pestering my parents—more diligently than normal since the attack—into letting her go. Everyone was doing something by picking a role and playing their part to the best of their abilities. But my role, the most important one of all, I was beginning to doubt my ability to play it.
And that doubt drove me from the den and out into a night that had never been as dark nor as cold as this one.
Ask any wolf what the moon meant to them, and I guarantee that although every answer might differ in some way or another, one fact would remain the same: the moon was home. No matter how alone you were, no matter how lost you felt in a world governed by the sun—a world that could never truly be ours—the moon belonged to us. The night was ours.
Its light was the closest we could ever come to feeling our Goddess' warmth. Night after night, it cascaded over us like a blanket, offered not for Her children to hide underneath but meant to wrap around us as the closest possible thing to an embrace. But, tonight, warmth was absent, and Luna's comforting touch I could not feel.
Or, rather, I refused to feel. Refused to accept. Because as I stared up at the night sky, gazing at what I knew had been much for than just a gigantic rock full of craters, I did not feel as though it represented home to me at all.
Home, for me, was a girl with big brown eyes and an even bigger heart. Home was being wrapped in her embrace, my head buried in her neck and my mouth pressed against that precise spot where I could feel her pulse beating against my lips. Home was her every touch. Her every kiss. Her laugh. It was even the pout she would give me when she disagreed with something I had said or done. Home was being wrapped in her love, the safest place I had ever been; the softest place I could ever hope to fall.
And as a wolf who had lived a life full of stumbles, getting up had only been made possible by those that had laid down their lives—figuratively and literally—to break my fall. As a pup, I accepted it as something that was normal because I did not understand. Assumed it was just something that had been done without question for the son of an alpha pair. But when I finally became old enough to understand why they had done what they did—whether voluntarily or non-voluntarily—it was the first time I realized how thin of a line there was between gratitude and resentment.
Every wolf who had raised me up by forcing me to walk upon a ground paved out of their many sacrifices took away my choice and my ability to rise from every fall with the power of my own strength. I did not want Ava-Rain to become just another sacrifice deemed necessary to raise me a little bit higher. How could I ever accept that? How could Luna ever expect me to be okay with that?
"'Under the full moon, we thrive, our moon, She sits on high.'" My eyes did not once part from the moon as I recited words that had been so deeply ingrained into my very being that I could never forget them. "'Our fate is written in the sky, our moon, She sits on high. Live to live or live to die, our moon, She sits on high.'"
Countries had national anthems and declarations, all of which consisted of words that might have meant something once upon a time when love for each other and loyalty to your country was stronger than any divide between that country and its people. Wolves had something similar, a deep seeded loyalty that not even thousands upon thousands of years could uproot.
I moved from a seated position into a kneeling one, all the while maintaining eye contact with the moon. "These were words I lived by. Words I believed in. The belief that no matter what happened to us, even if all of your children were wiped out of existence, our howls would still echo throughout the night and our moon would still sit high in the sky. It's that belief that keeps us strong. That keeps us from being afraid to die.
"You know that I've never been afraid of dying. For a long time, there weren't many things that I feared. Our fate is written in the sky, and what is written cannot be unwritten. I always knew that. I always accepted that. But I refuse to accept this as your Will. I refuse to accept that you put Ava-Rain in my life only to take her away now. You took Emmy Grace from me because she wasn't mine to have, but Ava-Rain is mine. Her heart is mine. Her soul is mine. Her love is mine. I don't deserve her, but you gave her to me for a reason, didn't you?"
I felt the blue slowly begin to rise to surface and the race between my emotions begin. Anger was the first one out of the gate and its momentum pushed me to feet.
"So tell me why," I demanded. "Tell me how an abomination became worthy of love." I shouted. "Tell me how much more suffering I must endure before you'll put me out of my misery."
The rage within me did not want to accept that, no matter how much I willed for one, no answer was going to be delivered. Despite its intensity, despite its fury, I wasn't angry with Luna as much as I was angry with myself.
"And if you won't tell me that, then tell me what my purpose is. Tell me why you gave me life. If I'm not to find peace, if I'm not to have love nor happiness, then. . ." I lowered my head and shut my eyes, "tell me why I'm here."
"And who are you to question Luna?"
The unexpected sound of my father's voice was enough to lift my head, but not enough to get me to turn around and face him. "I'm not in the mood for one of your lectures right now, so if that's why you're here then you can turn around and head back the way you came."
It was harsh. It was, arguably, a step or two away from bordering on disrespectful. But twenty-three years of living life as Ezra Brandt's son had not taught me how to be any other way whilst in the presence of the former alpha.
I was much more familiar with the alpha than the father.
"Good. Because I'm certainly not in the mood to give you one. I'm sure you already know all of the ways that you failed that girl in there. No point striking you when you're already down."
And that was my cue to leave.
I turned around then and tried my best not to laugh at that joke of a statement. Leaving wasn't what I wanted to do, but the best thing to do in that moment was to walk away. "You sure?" I asked as I neared him, refusing to spare him a glance. "'Cause I could have sworn that was when you loved to strike me the most."
I had barely passed by him before he grabbed onto my arm and stopped me. "Don't walk away when I'm talking to you, Caleb."
Shrugging him off, wincing slightly as it involved more movement then I anticipated, I took a step back. "What, Dad? What could you possibly have to say to me?"
Instead of answering me, his eyes lowered to my torso. Ezra Brandt was nothing if not perceptive. Even if I thought I had masked any sign of pain moments prior, my father could not easily be fooled.
Before I could stop him, he had already grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and lifted it to my chest. I had no other choice but to stare at him as he stared at the bruises that ran along the right side of my torso; a result of the multiple broken ribs I was left with after my fight with the two pure bloods.
He drew his eyes upwards and stared at me. Not with concern, not even with pity, but with shame. "Look at you. You're so dependent on her that you're not even able to heal yourself. What if she dies? Will you die, too? If so, what becomes of your pack? What happens to the wolves you swore to protect if you leave them behind? Even when you feel like you're going to die, even when your heart stops, you have to keep living. Keep breathing. Keep fighting. You think I don't know what you're going through, Caleb? I know—"
"You don't know!" I yelled, shaking my head. "You can't possibly know!"
"I know," he stepped closer, and surprised me when he took my face in his hands. "I know."
Every fibre of my being wanted to pull away. To ask him how he could have the audacity to stand there, look me in the eyes and tell me that he knew what I was going through. How could he know my pain? How could he know what it felt like to be stuck in limbo, not knowing whether or not your mate was going to live or die? But the look in his eyes, the sincerity floating within them, commanded me to stand down. And before I could ask him who he had lost or almost lost that could ever compare to his mate, he spoke.
"Love can be the deadliest of poisons yet the strongest of cures. You have to—"
"What did you just say?"
To explain the click that resonated inside of me the moment I heard those words spill from my father's mouth would consist of more intellect than I had. All I could say is that it was like the final piece of a puzzle being slid into place. Like the answer I had gotten on my knees and begged for.
'Love can be the deadliest of poisons yet the strongest of cures.'
It wasn't a quote that would go down in history as a profound statement made by Ezra Brandt because it was already a pretty well known verse amongst wolves. A saying I had heard countless numbers of times, mainly from elders as they retold stories dating back to the time of the Original Four.
Stories about true mates and the immense power of their connection, which had set the precedent for many rituals and traditions that were still practiced to this day.
I lifted my shirt just as my father had and looked down at my bruised body. It had been nearly a day since I had obtained the injury, yet there had been no signs of healing. With everything that was happening, a few broken ribs had been the last thing on my mind, so I paid no attention to the fact that my natural healing abilities hadn't even begun to kick in. Chalked it up to a delayed response due to stress and worry. But it was more than that. It had always been much, much more than that.
"I haven't healed," I whispered, not so much as a statement but a realization. Letting go of my shirt to instead lift the hand that had held it, I stared down at my palm.
Staring at nothing and, yet, seeing everything.
"Caleb—"
"I think I know how to bring her back."
* * *
Even if they had been tempted to, even if it had been on the tip of their tongues, not one of my pack members asked what I was doing.
Not Stryder nor Harrison when I entered the kitchen and grabbed the first knife I found. Not Tommy as I passed him by in the foyer, nor Chase or Rickon as I made my way upstairs. When I spotted Kane in the hallway, standing against the wall across from my bedroom door, he, too, had not said a word. And when I entered my moonlit room and looked at Declan in wolf form, laying at the foot of my bed and standing guard over Ava-Rain, he did not give me a questioning look.
For the first time in hours, I looked at Ava-Rain and my grip on the knife tightened. When I approached the bed, Declan rose to all fours and moved to stand next to me. "Thanks for staying with her," I ran my free hand through his fur and stared into his eyes. "It's time for me to bring her back."
My delta simply nodded his head before turning his head in her direction.
I did the same and, again, stared at my mate. My home.
I had stayed away from her for hours because it hurt to have her so close, yet so far away. It hurt too much to hold her hand, hurt to feel that she was here, yet not here. I forced myself to stay away because every second that went by and she did not wake up was another second that ticked down to me losing my mind.
Thing is, we had both been lost. Lost and waiting to be found.
"You take one more step near her, and I swear to Luna, I'll kill you."
As expected, the only objection came from the hunter that did not belong here, nor have any power nor say in what I was about to do.
I turned around to find Kasey standing in the doorway, bow and arrow pointed in my direction. Either she was crazy or lack of sleep had finally caught up to her, because no sane and coherent person—hunter or not—would be stupid enough to threaten an alpha inside of a house full of wolves.
Declan growled and went to move in front of me just as Kane, the rest of the pack, my parents and even Angelie rushed into the room. Kane positioned himself directly in front of his 'annoying-as-hell-and-slowly-but-surely-beginning-to-test-my-patience' mate.
"Trust him," was all that Kane said.
"Trust him?" She scoffed, and her eyes parted from Kane to send daggers my way. "I think I trusted him enough when he said that the hospital wouldn't be able to help Ava-Rain. And now, here we are, nearly a full day later, and she's still unconscious and none of you can tell me why because none of you know why. He's holding a knife over my best friend and you want me to trust him? Get out of my way!"
"If you're going to shoot," Kane moved, standing directly in the line of sight of the bow and arrow, "then shoot."
Kane could handle himself, and that was a fact that I would never argue. But that did not mean that I would ever be unbothered by the sight of him standing fifteen feet away from me with an arrow pointed in his direction. I knew that her hatred towards me was stronger than any hate she may have felt towards Kane. But her love for her best friend was stronger than that hate, and the coldness in her sharp, blue eyes confirmed that she would have no problem going through both Kane and me if she had to. She was greatly outnumbered and outmatched, but losing even one member of my pack was not going to happen.
And if what I was about to do actually worked, then perhaps we could all make it through the night without any life being lost.
"Kane, stand down—"
"If not," he cut me off, his attention still on Kasey, "then I think it's time for you to leave."
"You think that I won't shoot you?"
"Your very real and undeniable hate for me reassures me that you would have no problem shooting me. But my very real and undeniable love for my alpha will keep me rooted in this very spot because I have no problem dying for him. So, I repeat, if you're going to shoot," he stepped even closer, "then shoot. Otherwise, let him do what he needs to do to bring your best friend back."
Kasey looked at me, and the moment her bow lowered in the slightest, I knew that it was now or never. Turning my attention on Ava-Rain, I lifted the knife, pressed the blade to the palm of my right hand and sliced it open. Quickly, I picked up Ava-Rain's right hand and did the same, hating that I had to hurt her but knowing—believing—that it had to be done.
Because love could be the deadliest of poisons yet the strongest of cures.
I pressed my palm to hers, forcing my blood to enter her system and hers to enter mine in what was known to every wolf as a blood bond.
And I waited.
Waited while seconds turned into minutes.
Eventually, minutes turned into hours.
We had been left alone, but I still sensed my pack was close by, and that Kasey was, undoubtedly, even closer. But my entire focus had been on my mate.
I spent way too much time focused on the rise and fall of her chest, monitoring whether it slowed, increased or remained the same. I focused on how small her hand was in comparison to mine; how its softness mirrored her delicacy and how untarnished she was, while my own rough and calloused was a mere reflection of every hardship I had ever endured. I was focused too hard on the thoughts running through my mind while wondering what was going through hers, that, for most of our time alone, I hadn't once opened my mouth and actually talked to her.
It wasn't that I didn't want to talk, but what could I say that Ava-Rain didn't already know? That I had not already said? Until I could figure that out, I believed it best to remain tightlipped.
And, for a while, it worked. For a while, I remained contempt with the silence and welcomed its company; anything else would have only served as a distraction. But, at some point, my wolf, who I had allowed a bit of free reign so long as it promised to keep a hold on the red and suppress its desire for revenge, decided to lock itself away deeper than normal into the shadows. And suddenly the silence, no longer solely external but internal, became too strong. Too loud. Too suffocating.
I could pretend like I didn't know what he was playing at, but I did. And because he was the only one in the world that knew me better than I knew myself, I knew why.
Like I stated before, there were few things in life that I feared. Vulnerability was one of them. Vulnerability was a weakness, and an alpha could not afford to be weak. Vulnerability was a plague that spread quickly and rendered you susceptible to attack, and an alpha could not afford to be sick.
Opening yourself up and laying yourself bare for the world to see, to judge, was a terrifying thing. Whether Ava-Rain heard it or not, whether it helped or not, I hadn't spoken because I was terrified that I would have told her things I had been too afraid of ever letting slip past my lips. Admitted things that I had been too afraid to even admit to myself. Things that, if she were to open her eyes, might make her look differently at me. Think differently of me. Love me differently.
But how could I ask her to love me if I didn't allow her to see or to know just who it was that she was choosing to love?
So, I opened my mouth and let the words, whatever they might be, in whatever order they decided amongst themselves, fall where they may. And, that time, for the first time, I was given the choice to sacrifice myself in order to break their fall.
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