Page 27

“Aren?” Finan leans into my face. “ Aren ? You’ve been staring into space for five minutes. What’s wrong?”

“Kat needs more than a dead deer.”

He blinks. “ What ?”

I step around him and stalk to the table. “She needs more than a dead deer, Finan.”

I set my half-finished bottle of beer down and grab a bottle of champagne. I don’t even know if Kat drinks champagne, but that’s not the point.

It’s the doing .

But the doing isn’t enough. Just as the dead deer isn’t enough. Not on its own.

I have been doing and doing, but the saying is just as important as the doing.

I know what I need.

I need someone to show me that they mean what they say. That’s always been enough for me.

Kat needs more than that because she’s not me.

Finan is still looking confused, but I pass him on my way out, and I grab a vase of roses as well. They’re limp, but they’ll have to do.

I can’t let her go.

Nothing means more to me than my pack. Protecting them has always been my top priority. Equally important is my pack's faith in me to do the right thing.

Except I can’t always be right.

I was wrong about Kat.

And I was wrong about something else. Something else does matter more than being right.

Losing Kat.

I fucked up so badly that it’s a miracle in itself she hasn’t killed me.

I need to tell her that. I need to get down on my knees, if that’s what it takes to keep her.

“ Kat ?” I yell.

Silence.

I jog down the stairs, clutching the champagne in one hand and the flowers in another. “Kitty cat? You were right. I am allergic to saying sorry, but it’s… there’s a reason. Maybe it’s not a good reason, but I do have one.”

I wait for a response.

Nothing.

“I’m sorry, okay? Can you please come back so I can apologize properly?”

I twist around, looking for her when she doesn’t appear. “Kat?”

All this time, she’s wanted an apology from me. I just gave her one, but she’s not yelling at me to fuck off or accepting it.

This is a big deal for her. She wouldn’t ignore this.

A wind tunnels through the trees, and suddenly, the silence feels ominous.

Threatening, somehow.

“Something is wrong,” I mutter as I head toward the creek where she likes to do her thinking. Jasper, the new prospect’s scent is fresh. He was here recently.

My wolf is silent, but alert. “Why do I think something is wrong?”

My eyes fix on the creek, and the bottle slips from my hand, exploding as a roar starts up in my head.

“Kat.”

Kat and Aren’s story concludes in Pack Kasen: Part Three