CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ALEX DAVALO
Death: When it comes, it gives no shit about who you are… wolf or human!
I had barely woken up when my phone rang, almost making me jolt up. Groggily, I picked up my phone and checked who it was, ready to vent my anger on the person for waking me up so early. Unfortunately for me, it was my father. My heart raced a little-this was surprising. He never called that early, except on the very few occasions he either wanted me to take a walk with him or he had something very important and private to discuss with me.
I rubbed my eyes and reluctantly answered the call. “Dad?” I mumbled, trying to mask my irritation.
“Alex, come downstairs immediately,” my father instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument before he hung up abruptly.
Feeling a knot tighten in my stomach, I quickly dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, appropriate for the early morning chill. As I slipped on my sneakers, I wanted to stop by Sandro’s room, but I hesitated. If Dad didn’t send for him, then I’d better not disturb him. The tension I felt from the call hung heavy in the air as I made my way downstairs.
As I entered the living room, I was surprised to see Sandro already sitting with my father at the dining table. He glanced up at me, his expression mirroring my confusion.
I nodded at him, but my eyes lingered longer than they should have. My mind wandered, though I tried to stop it. Yesterday, Sandro knew that I was angry because Nadia disappointed me. But how did he know I was waiting for her?
Ignoring the thought, I chose a seat near him and leaned closer to whisper, “Did he say anything to you?”
Before Sandro could respond, our father cleared his throat, and I noticed he was struggling to find the right words. The unease that filled the room was palpable, and I immediately knew something was wrong. “Boys,” he started, his voice shaking slightly, “I need to tell you something.”
We both leaned forward, concern flooding over us. “It’s about your mother,” he paused as if he was waiting for us to ask him a question. “She is very sick,” he continued.
I felt the world tilt beneath me, and I looked at Sandro, my heart pounding. “Sick? How sick?” I asked, panic creeping into my voice.
“Boys,” our father continued, his voice low and heavy. “The sickness… it will lead to her death.”
His words hit like a physical blow. The room went deathly silent as the weight of what he said sank in. I stared at him in shock, my mind racing to understand what he meant. I refused to understand. “Dad, what are you talking about?” I whispered, looking lost.
“Your mother has a rare disease that has refused to go away. It is slowly killing her, and there is nothing we can do about it. She didn’t want me to tell you until she was gone, but I’m telling you this so you can prepare for her death,” he stated bluntly, rising from the table and walking away, leaving us in stunned silence.
“What just happened?” Sandro asked, his voice barely above a whisper. I could see he was struggling to process the news, the same turmoil swirling inside me.
“I… I don’t know,” I muttered, my stomach churning. “He can’t be serious. It can’t be our mother he’s talking about. He’s lying about her, Sandro!”
“I doubt he is, Alex,” Sandro said, shaking his head.
We both stood there, feeling utterly lost. I had so many questions, but none of them had answers. “How can this happen? Why didn’t anyone say anything?”
“Maybe they thought it was too early,” Sandro replied, his voice low with frustration.
“Too early for what? To live with the idea that we’re losing her?” I asked, unable to keep my emotions under control.
“Maybe,” Sandro managed to say.
“Damn it!” I cursed, running a hand through my hair, trying to hold back the flood of emotions. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
The day dragged on, and later we both resolved to go to our father’s chamber where our mother was being attended to by the pack’s healer. As we entered, the air was thick with a sense of urgency and despair. Our mother lay on the bed, frail and pale, the covers pulled up to her chin. The healer, an older woman with wise eyes, was carefully checking her vitals.
As soon as Mom noticed us, she waved the healer away. “I want time alone with them,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. The healer nodded, stepping outside but leaving the door slightly ajar.
Sandro and I approached the bed cautiously. “Mom,” I said, my heart aching at the sight of her so weak. She tried to sit up, her body shaking as she struggled to support herself. I rushed forward to help her, and as her fingers held mine weakly, something inside me cracked. It was as feeble as Nadia’s skin was under my hold.
“Thank you, my sweet boys,” she said, her voice hoarse. I could see the effort it took her to speak. “I didn’t want to worry you, but I… I’m not well.”
“Mom, what’s going on?” I asked, almost pleading, unable to hide the desperation in my voice anymore.
She coughed, a soft wince passing across her face. “It’s just an illness, nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about?” Sandro echoed, incredulous. “You look like you need a hospital! We should take you there now,” he said, turning to me. But I already knew my mother wouldn’t oblige his request. She would rather die trying to get healed the pack’s way.
“Sweetheart, I won’t be here much longer.” She tried to smile, but it looked painful. “Please don’t feel sorry for me. I’m being called back. The goddess has inflicted me with this disease so the pack will get another Luna through you two,” she jokingly added.
I felt the defiance rise within me. “Mom, don’t say that! We’ll find a way to help you, I promise.” My voice trembled, emotion choking me.
“Alex, I don’t want you to fight for something that has already been decided,” she rasped, her eyes glistening with tears. “You boys don’t need to feel sadness for me. I had a good life, and I love you both.”
Unable to take it anymore, I stood up suddenly, feeling a swirl of anger, fear, and confusion all mixing. “I can’t just sit here and watch!” I shouted, the pain of helplessness hitting me hard. I stormed out of the room, trying to escape the reality that was suffocating me.
In the hallway, I spotted the healer, her hands clasped together. “Why can’t we do anything?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Isn’t there a way to save her?”
The healer shook her head slowly. “Some fate is set in a way that we cannot change. It is your mother’s time, Alex. We must accept that.”
“Accept? How can you say that?” I felt the anger boil over. “I will not accept this!”
“I’m sorry.” She said gently, “You must be strong for her now.”
I couldn’t process her words, the panic and fury surging through me. I turned away and stormed back into my room, slamming the door behind me.
I began kicking at everything in sight, frustration pouring out of me as I felt the weight of my helplessness. My fists hit the wall, knocking books to the floor. My chest heaved with every ragged breath. It wasn’t enough. The anger kept building, wild and untamed.
With each breath, it grew stronger. My muscles tensed. My senses sharpened. The familiar pull of my wolf side stirred, clawing at me from the inside. It wanted control. It wanted to take over, to destroy everything.
“No! Not now!” I growled, digging my nails into my palms, forcing my feet to stay planted. But it was like wrestling with a storm. Every pushback only made it push harder.
The door flew open, and Sandro rushed in, his eyes wide with fear. “Alex, stop! You can’t do this! Please!”
But it was too late; I was already in the fight. Not with him. Not even with my wolf. I was fighting my impulses.
I could feel it pressing against my skin and as my eyes darted to him, I barked, “Get away from me, Sandro!”
He ignored, “Alex, we need to be strong for Mom! Not like this!” His voice was firmer now, but still careful. “You’re doing this for her!”
I froze. My body locked up like he’d flipped a switch.
I pressed my forehead against the wall, trying to control my breath as I squeezed my eyes shut, biting down on my tongue so hard I tasted metal.
“Be strong for Mom.”
How could I lie to myself like that? I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t even strong yesterday. I couldn’t control myself then either. I let my anger own me.
The memory struck like a punch to the gut. My eyes shot open, but it didn’t matter. I could still see it.
Nadia’s face, the sound of her voice, trembling. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear.
My breath caught, and I swallowed hard, trying to force it down. I had to focus on mom and not Nadia.
But the memory stayed. Her voice echoed louder than Sandro’s now in my head. “Alex, please go away.” I could hear it.
I clenched my jaw so tight it hurt.
I didn’t feel proud. But I didn’t feel guilty either.
She should never have bailed on me. She should not have made my anger make the best of me.
I told myself that, over and over like it made a difference.
But it did not.