The North Pack (editing)

6 - The Tradition

When I awoke, the room was empty and at first, my solitude was a relief. Some space away from the unfamiliar machinations of a pack I wanted nothing to do with; space away from Jax. But quickly, I realised that there was nothing to do but think - something I'd been trying to avoid doing since I'd arrived.

      With nothing to distract me, my thoughts began to spiral. Callum was the first face to appear in my mind and my heart clenched in response. I wondered what he was doing, how he was doing. I buried my face in the duvet. I wanted to scream or cry or have some sort of meltdown, but the futility of it all prevented me from crying out.

      There was nothing I could do. There were no words that I could scream loud enough that would change the reality of my situation. The lack of control was stifling, claustrophobic. I doubted a single Northern wolf would give a shit how I was feeling—feelings seemed much less important than duty in this pack. Duty I had never signed up for.

      Duty that Callum had to bear the consequences of.

      Whatever sense of injustice that rattled around inside of me only tripled in strength when I thought of him. To lose both of his mates, to have to watch me walk away—my eyes started to prick with tears. I sobbed softly into the fabric sheets, knowing it made no difference at all.

      When my eyes grew dry, my mind drifted to my family, to my friends, to the life I was now forced to grieve. Somewhere inside of me, I knew there was red-hot anger, a fountain of wrath that would never run dry, but I felt too exhausted to even dip my toe in. That kind of fatigue didn't allow for anger, didn't allow for anything other than resignation.

      This was my life now. This was my life now. The thought felt like swallowing acid. Like giving up.

      The only hope that interrupted my self-pity was Neera, Jax's Chosen. She was the only path I could see that could lead to my departure. If she became Soless, if she became Jax's partner, then there would be no place for me anymore. I would be free.

      But yet, I knew Jax would fight tooth and nail to prevent that from happening and my hope was extinguished with the same swiftness that it came. With the little I had parsed about him, I knew this was important to him, that it may well have been everything to him. His mate, the authority in his pack, the Tradition, he held them all so tightly to his chest, that much was clear. It made me want to cry all over again, but I resisted the urge. I could cry until my body was devoid of water and still, my life would look the same.

      Nausea began to permeate my body, and the same feeling of sickness as that night in the cabin grabbed me. I was going to throw up. Urgency took hold and I barely made it to the toilet in time for the gagging to start.

      I wiped my mouth after I was done and sat against the bathroom wall, sapped of any energy I had gained from my long sleep. As my eyes began to close once more, the door swung open.

      "Oh," Jax exhaled when he, once more, found me on the floor of the bathroom. "Forgive me for waking you."

      "It's okay." Sleepiness was still clinging to my skin and I wanted nothing more than for him to leave. I wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep and wake up hundreds of miles from here.

      "Shall we talk?"

      My mouth felt dry, the back of my throat acidic. "Fine."

      I hauled my body up, muscles still aching from the walk here, and joined him in the bedroom, collapsing down onto the bed. He followed, sitting a metre away from me, staring with such an intensity that left me unnerved. I looked down at my hands.