Forged in Fire (Forgotten Series, #2)

Chapter Twelve

No matter how many times I held the shovel in my hand. It always felt awkward and heavy, as if reminding me that it wasn't something that is supposed to be comfortable or light. It's job was to dig graves and that is what it told you as soon as you picked it up in your hands. The blood and sweat of the shifters who had used it for its purpose stained the handle and it almost made it that much heavier. It was a steady and constant reminder of the death, of the loss, that the grave represented.

The shovel dug deep into the earth and I pulled shovelfuls of dirt out of the hole I was standing in. I had been at it for hours. My shirt was discarded shortly into the heavy labour and sweat rolled down my frame as I dug the grave deeper. Michael and Ezekiel had both shifted, leaving their fur for skin to help me dig the other graves. The other pack members dug the graves for their loved ones further away. Bennett was digging a grave for Dylan. I had been surprised by his offer and would have refused but he had simply grabbed a shovel and moved to the appropriate spot before I could stop him.

The air was filled with an eerie symphony. The sound of dirt and rock against metal and faint grunts of exertion as we create the final resting place for the ones that were lost. There was an almost rhythmic sound to it, like we had all synchronized our motions. It was a symphony that I believed none of us really wanted to create but we had too. There was no escaping what had happened and this was our way of cementing it in our minds, pouring out our grief and sorrow through blood and sweat if we couldn't spare tears. I couldn't spare tears. I was to be strong, an Alpha for my pack. I had created this situation.

If I had only dealt with Dylan at the beginning. If I had only ignored those who told me it would settle down. If I had only shouldered my responsibilities sooner. If I had only been the Alpha they wanted me to be. If only that semi hadn't lost control. If only I hadn't lost my father and my brothers. If only, if only, if only. My life was filled with them and they were a mantra burned into me as I dug the grave for the death I had caused.

If only. If only. If only. My shovel moved to the beat of the words. I had caused the grief in my pack. I had caused the loss of life. I was the sole reason for the shovel in my hand and that was harder to bear than the wooden handle against my bare palms. The wood had torn at my skin, breaking it open, making me bleed but the realization that it was all my fault made my heart and soul tear and my pack's tears were the blood that I lost. I had caused it. It was all me. The shovel hit the dirt more forcefully.

If only I had listened more. If only I had been strong like my brothers. If only I had showed them how much I truly cared for them. If only I had convinced them to spend the night in a hotel. If only I had accepted their deaths. If only I had grieved. If only I hadn't resented the position. If only I hadn't fought against fate. If only. If only. If only.

My breathing grew hard as I almost robotically dug into to the earth with the shovel. The pile of earth I had removed from the grave was growing but my burden only seemed to be getting heavier. The act of digging a loved one's grave was supposed to help you release the negative emotions but in my case they seemed to only be growing. I doubted my pack members could resent me more than I resented myself.

I had caused deaths that should have never occurred. Andy was like a heavy stone pressing down on my chest. I would live with the burden because it was my fault. It was my fault because I didn't take care of the problem. Everything had consequences. It was how the world worked. Every year, every month, every week I let Dylan's poison spread, the more consequences and pain I caused.

I was the reason my pack shed blood, sweat, and tears in this grave yard. I was the reason they held the heavy shovels and tried to lighten their burden one shovelful of dirt at a time. I was the reason for their pain. Some Alphas could push that away, feel completely justified and never think on it twice but I couldn't. I needed to linger in the past to remind me I was a shitty Alpha. I wasn't the Alpha they deserved and I was slowly waiting for them to realize that fact.