Page 23 of Crossed Fates

I did,he would agree.I really did.

My throat worked as I tried to hold on to that conversation, to have a real one now, to will him into consciousness to verbally spar with me one last time. This was my brother, my own flesh and blood, my only real link to the pack.

No one else knew me like he did.

It was why I’d left.

The pack would never understand that choice or the heartache that went with it.

You were meant to lead them first,I whispered to my brother now.You should still be leading them now.

What can I say, little bro? Fate’s a bitch.It wasn’t really him, the words in my mind ones of my own making, but man, they sounded just like him. Because I knew that was exactly what he’d say to me now.

He’d tell me to buck up, shut up, and get the job done.

He’d tell me this was always meant to be my path.

And then he’d tell me,You’d better not let Hardt take over. He’s not a Calder, Ric. He’s notyou.

I reached down to grab my brother’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

His fingers squeezed back.

So weak and subtle, but there. A passing of the torch. A blessing. His way of saying,You’ve got this.

And what if I don’t?I wanted to ask him.What if I don’t have this?

Then I’ll be hovering over your shoulder, cheering you on every step of the way.

I felt the brush of fur, his wolf nudging mine, all of it taking place inside my soul and forever ingraining the moment in my memories.

And then it was gone.

Hewas gone.

His last breath kissed the air, and I swore he murmured my name.Ric.

He could finally let go because his baby brother had returned home. The new alpha was here. His job was done. And in that final second, I felt his energy pass through mine, blessing the rightful heir.

Me.

My mother crumpled into my side, her tears dampening my sweater.

I didn’t cry. I remained tall, my hand still wrapped around my brother’s fingers, my eyes glued to his face.Gone. He’s gone.

But I felt him all around me,in me, his memory one I wouldn’t soon forget. Eighteen years, I had run in his shadow. He’d taught me everything he’d known. He’d groomed me just as my dad had groomed him. We’d taken all the same classes, played all the same sports, and competed with one another every step of the way. It hadn’t mattered that I was two years younger; I’d performed on his level and above.

It had only pushed him harder.

Which, in turn, had pushed me harder.

A rivalry born of the best intentions.

A brotherhood I very much missed.

He’d grown into a powerful alpha, his business savvy extraordinary. I had taken my skills elsewhere, but that hadn’t made either of us any less proud of the other.

My father might call me weak for not challenging to become the true alpha of this pack.