Chapter 32: Ain't No Wake Like a Were-Wake, Baby

Cyrus

Harlow looked small and sad in the bed next to me. I hated what I was telling her, but she had to know the truth.

“Her name was Jenny,” I said. “She was one of the people the Blood Dogs helped get out of a bad situation. We were together when the split happened, so she came with me. I asked her to be my mate and turned her with the mating mark. She died in my arms.”

A tear slid down Harlow’s cheek. I wiped it with my hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything about this earlier,” I continued. “And I’m not telling you now to try to hurt you. I just need you to understand where I’m coming from in all of this. I know Brat made it through her first shift, but it could have just as easily gone the other way. The stakes are real, and they’re personal to me.”

Harlow gave a sad nod. Her big brown eyes were full of tears by now, and more slid down her cheeks. I felt awful unloading this on her. Especially after what we’d just shared.

“Maybe I should go,” she said, sitting up.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. “I can take you back home if you want, but I’d really like it if you stayed. I do want to be with you.”

That seemed to heal the wound a bit. Harlow smiled and wiped the remaining tears away. I pulled her close to me again, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Harlow

The next day, I put my wet clothes from the bathroom into the washing machine so I’d have something to wear back into town. We had a funeral to go to.

When I walked back into the bedroom, Cyrus was awake and pulling a T-shirt over his broad, muscular back. He looked over his shoulder and smiled.

“Morning,” he said, standing up and walking over to me.

I was still naked, and he engulfed me in a hug, kissing the top of my head. Our conversation from the day before played over and over in my mind. I was beginning to wonder if I’d jumped into the decision to be turned too quickly. I knew that Cyrus certainly felt that way. But we didn’t talk about it any further for the time being. In fact, we were quiet most of the morning.

Later, when we drove into town, all of Gnaw Bone felt gloomy. I borrowed a black dress from Brat, and we all put our cuts over our funeral clothes and rode our bikes to the cemetery. Sunrise Corp had done as Madoc said and took care of everything. I held Cyrus’s hand as werewolves on both sides were laid to rest.

Afterward, Brat and I went to the bar to help out for a few hours. Red caught my eye from across the room. He was at a table with Gunner, who was milking his usual drink. There was a glass of beer on the table next to him—a tribute to Grim.

Then, in walked Dax with a young man I’d seen by his side at the funeral. He looked like a younger, more clean-cut version of Dax without the tattoos and ponytail. He was tall and broad-shouldered with brown hair and hazel eyes.

I began to get Dax his usual Diet Cola when he said, “Make it a scotch.”

He’d told me when I first met him that he was ten years sober. I looked into his sad, bloodshot eyes.

“Umm…” I hesitated. “You sure you don’t want a Diet—”

“Just get me the d*mn drink, Prospect,” Dax said roughly.

Red caught my eye and gave me a nod as if to say, “Just give it to him.”

“Dad,” the young guy next to him said. So he was Dax and Lola’s son. I hadn’t realized they had any children. Dax didn’t look at him.

I put a glass of scotch down for him, and Dax said, “Just give me the whole bottle.”

“Dad,” his son repeated. “Mom wouldn’t want this.”

“Your mom doesn’t want anything,” Red replied sadly. “She’s gone, and she’s never coming back.”

“Dax…” I said, handing him the bottle. I wasn’t sure what I would say from one word to the next. “I’m so sorry about Lola. She made me feel welcome from the first day I started working here. She was really special.”

Dax seemed to soften a little as he took the bottle of scotch.

“Thanks,” was all he said as he walked over to a corner table to drink alone.

His son remained at the bar and took a seat on one of the stools.

“Sorry,” he said to me.

“Don’t be. Lola was your mom?” I said.

He nodded, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Red and Gunner both stand and walk toward the bar.

“Hey, Liam,” Red said, patting the young guy on the shoulder. “How’s school treating you?”

“First semester’s going ok.”

“Are you in college?” Brat asked.

“Yeah,” Liam said. “Freshman at UCLA.”

“That’s so cool,” she replied.

“This is Brat and Harlow,” Red introduced us.

“Liam,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Brat said. “Lola was awesome. We all loved her.”

“Thanks… I still can’t believe she’s gone. My dad said Mac was the one that jumped in and saved him.”

“He didn’t need to get himself killed,” I heard Dax say from the corner. “Shoulda just let the bullet get me.” He’d already finished the glass of scotch and started chugging from the bottle.

Seeing Dax in so much pain, I thought of what Cyrus had said about his mom when the mating bond was broken. The thought of being connected to someone like that sounded amazing, but seeing the effects of the bond breaking was awful. This was more than mourning. Dax looked like he was in physical pain.

That’s when Cyrus came in. He hesitated at the door as if he was making sure it was ok for a Howler to be there. Red waved him over. It still felt weird even to me that the two packs were crossing the road and interacting like there hadn’t been a ten-year feud between them.

“Arlene asked me to let everyone know she’s having a wake for all the fallen wolves at her place later,” Cyrus explained.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Red said, perking up a little. Even Gunner appeared to have a relieved look on his face. “We need a party after this depressing sh*t.”

“I should make a liquor run,” Gunner said. “Any requests?”

“A party?” I asked. “Isn’t a wake like an extension of a funeral?”

“It’s a celebration of life,” Red replied. “And just you wait and see. There ain’t no wake like a were-wake, baby. We are gettin’ f*cked up tonight!”

Cyrus

The sounds of the wake could be heard from well over a mile away. Werewolves from both packs were there—over half the town.

Classic rock music blasted from speakers as friends and family sang and danced to honor the ones we lost. MC members rode their bikes along the perimeter of the property, challenging each other to races and stunts.

Inside, the booze flowed. The sadness that had loomed over us for most of the day was like a distant memory. Even Dax was laughing at a story about Lola kicking some guy’s a** years ago.

Harlow and I waded through a sea of people until we found Arlene. In usual Arlene fashion, she’d been busy in the kitchen with a team of helpers prepping food and serving drinks. There wasn’t an empty plate or glass in sight.

When she spotted us, she came over and gave us each a big hug.

Harlow let out an involuntary, “Ooh!” from how hard she squeezed her.

“Oh! Sorry, honey. Forgot you were human.”

She then brushed at my hair with her fingers as if she was getting me ready for school. “You need a haircut.”

That made me smile. “I’m letting it grow out.”

“Do I see people not drinking?” Blayze’s voice called as he entered from the living room. He’d clearly already had a few.

He made eye contact with me and came over. “There’s my Beta,” he said, giving me a hug. “Listen, I’ve been a sh*tty brother and an even sh*ttier Alpha.”

“It’s ok, dude.” I gave him a pat on the back.

“No, man,” he continued. “I wasn’t there when half the Howler officers were killed. I don’t know what I’d have done if you were one of ‘em. You’re a hell of a Beta, and people look up to you. I wanna invite you to be VP again.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harlow put her hands to her mouth. I knew she’d felt responsible for me losing the patch, and she stood anticipating what I would say next.