My Best friends mate is the Alpha

10: Dear Rosie

Amy Allisons POV

Everything was numb, my parents and I had got wind of the battle that had taken place. Had claimed the lives of the alpha and the alpha in training. Dead. My limbs shook as I stared down at my hands, people died.

And Axel had been there - had saved lives in his own way.

And I felt so bad for all the mated women and men who lost their mates today. A single tear rolled down my cheek - the cost for life was so high. I resisted the urge to call my loved ones in the pack to make sure they were safe. But Axel had probably spent hours tending to the injured - practically at the heart of the battle to save their lives and heal them. Alyssa was more important - calling them would interupt them in their own sense of grieving. And Rosie - I don't know if Darren is -.

Another warm tear rolled down my cheek. My room quiet and the lights dull as I sat on the edge. But I didn't make a noise.

I wanted to hear their voices telling me that everything was alright, they weren't hurt and they were safe. But this seemed to be how the world was and I couldn't bear to break the silence.

My blurred vision wasn't to constricting as I turned my head to look at the nearly completed scrap book of Alyssa and Axel. When I say nearly finished - I'm stuck. I've been getting a lot of photos but, Alyssa is the photographer here so. I laughed lightly, it was a laugh of love but also sadness.

Love of Alyssa and sadness of the deaths.

Mind whirling so much - why? Why did people have to die?

A sob finally wracked my body - how could life be so cruel?

And why did I have such wrong emotions? I was laughing, crying or nothing at all, all at once.

Closing my eyes, tears fell as I quietly cried. Shaking, I wiped my sweat hands on my bed. I let the tears fall, dry on my face - a gift to thoes who died. A respect and an acknowledgement.

Life was a beautiful thing - but it was also delicate - precious and fragile.

Laying back, I closed my eyes. I wanted to protect those - to feel so powerless.

Journalists wrote about sacrifice and other peoples love, hate and problems. But - I couldn't let people die for me. Maybe they didn't die for me specifically - but they had fought and died none the same.

And I wanted to do something.

What - screw journalism. I wanted to protect people - I didn't want people to die. I know I couldn't stop death but I could play my part in some way.

Gnawing my lip, I decided...

I want to be a fighter.

For the dead.
For the children.
For Alyssa.
For Axel.
For my parents.
For my friends.
For the people who I needed to protect. If I knew them or not.