THE LAST BREATH
THE LAST BREATH
THANE'S POV
The room smells like metal and disinfectant, and I hate it.
My Dad’s breath rattles in his chest like something broken and his hand is twitching where it rests against the blanket. He’s pale, paler than I have ever seen him. Too still. This is the strongest man I know, and now he looks like he’s made of glass. Fragile. Temporary.
I sit beside the bed, not saying anything. What the hell do you even say in a moment like this?
His eyes crack open. They’re dull, unfocused, but they find me. “Thane…”
“Yeah,” I say quickly, leaning in. “I’m here.”
He licks his lips, slow and dry. “Ayla…”
“She is safe,” I say, not even waiting for the question. “She is fine.”
He nods a little. Barely. “Tell her… I’m sorry.”
I blink. “What?”
“For everything.” His voice is thin, barely there. “She didn’t deserve what I let happen. I saw it… too late.”
“I’ll tell her,” I whisper. My throat burns. I swallow it down.
He squeezes my fingers, weak but there. “Be better than me, son.”
My chest twists. “Dad-”
“Don’t let this pack… eat itself. Be the Alpha they need.”
I don’t answer right away. My jaw is locked tight. I want to scream. I want to punch a hole in the wall. But I just nod. “Okay.”
His fingers go still in mine.
His eyes close.
And then… nothing.
Just silence.
I sit there for a long time. I don’t even realize I’m crying until the tears hit his hand.
Hours pass. Or maybe it’s just minutes. Everything blends together now.
People move around the pack house like ghosts. Whispers. Sobs. Some wolves are trying not to show it, but I hear them crying when they think no one’s looking.
Some… don't even care. And I can't blame them. I might have loved him but he… he failed this pack.
But at least he was Alpha for decades. He held them together. And now he’s gone.
The mourning hasn’t even fully started before the whispers start. The talks. The questions.
“Who is going to take over?”
“Is Thane even ready?”
“He abandoned us during the worst of it.”
I hear every word but I pretend I don’t.
Ayla finds me later that night, after the house has quieted down. I’m outside, leaning against the side of the porch, staring at the treeline. The cold air helps me breathe.
She doesn’t say anything at first. Just steps beside me and waits. That’s something I’ve always liked about her. She doesn’t force herself into my space. She waits until I open it.
“You okay?” she asks finally.
I exhale. “Not really.”
She nods. “I figured.”
I glance at her. She’s wearing one of those oversized hoodies again, hands buried in the sleeves. Her hair’s a mess, like she’s been pulling her fingers through it all day. There’s something in her eyes, sadness, but also something sharper.
“They’re already talking about who’s gonna take the mantle,” I say.
“I know.”
“They want me to take it.”
“Do you want it?”
I blink at her. “I mean… I have to.”
“No,” she says, cutting me off. “That’s not what I asked. I said do you want it? Not out of duty. Not because they expect it. You.”
I run a hand down my face. “I don’t know.”
She crosses her arms. “You better figure it out fast. Because if you do this for the wrong reasons, it’s gonna eat you alive.”
I stare out at the trees again. And I think.
I think about the way my father looked when he said I had to be better.
I think about the kids in the pack who don’t even know what normal feels like because Nadira took that from them.
I think about the wolves who fought beside us. The ones who bled, who died.
And I think about the ones who are still looking for someone to blame.
“They were shitty to me,” I say. “Some of them still are. But this pack… it’s home. And I want it to be better than what it’s been.”
Ayla’s eyes soften. “Then tell them that.”
So I do.
The next day, I stand in the middle of the pack house. Wolves are gathered, old, young, some with fresh bandages still on. Their eyes are on me. Waiting.
I take a breath and step forward.
“My father is gone,” I say. “He gave everything for this pack, and now he’s passed the torch.”
A few heads nod. A few more avoid my gaze.
“I know I haven’t been what you needed before. I left. I made choices that hurt people. And I’m not gonna stand here and pretend that didn’t happen.”
The murmurs start, but I raise my voice just a little.
“But I’m still standing. I fought. I bled. I came back. And I’m here now.”
I meet the elders’ eyes one by one.
“I want this pack to rise again. I want it to heal. And yeah, I want to lead it. Because I still believe in it.”
Some wolves smile. A few clap. But not everyone looks convinced.
One of the elders, Marcus, old as hell and twice as bitter, steps forward. “Words are easy, boy. But trust? That’s harder to earn. You want to lead? Prove it. Take the trial.”
Ayla’s voice cuts in before I can reply. Sharp. Angry. “He already did. He fought Nadira. Nearly died for all of you. What more do you want?”
Another elder scoffs. “That was personal. Not leadership.”
“Oh, screw you,” she snaps.
“Ayla.” I touch her arm. She glances at me, eyes still blazing. I shake my head gently.
Then I turn to the elders.
“I’ll accept the challenge,” I say. Calm. Steady. “If that’s what it takes to shut you up and move forward, then fine. Let’s do it.”
The room shifts. Tension crackles. But no one argues.
I step back.
Ayla’s still glaring at them, like she’s one second from shifting and
tearing into someone.
“I’m fine,” I whisper to her.
She crosses her arms. “You shouldn’t have to be.”
I don’t say anything.
Because she’s right.