Maddox sounded like a wounded animal, and Theo’s shoulders shook quietly.
I sat there for a moment longer, still holding Colton’s hand, unable to accept that this was truly the end; the finality of death seemed incompatible with his larger-than-life presence.
When I finally left the hospital, it was snowing heavily, thick flakes swirling in the cold night air; the world seemed quieter, as if in memory of what had been lost.
Elias waited outside the hospital entrance, concerned on his face, and when he saw me come out, he immediately draped a coat over my shoulders, pulling me close.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly against my hair.
As I was about to get into the car, something stirred within me—an awareness that this chapter wasn’t quite over. I turned around to see Maddox and Theo standing a few paces behind me, looking lost in the falling snow.
Maddox’s hair had turned almost completely white, his features weathered by time and grief, and Theo stood beside him, offering silent support despite the fact that he appeared to be struggling to stand.
Snowflakes fell abundantly, landing on their hair and shoulders, and neither man made an effort to brush them away.
Through the blowing snow, I said to them, “Take care of yourselves from now on.” A simple phrase, but full of meaning–acknowledgement, concern, and perhaps even the smallest seed of forgiveness.
Maddox’s eyes, which had just stopped tearing, turned red again, revealing a range of emotions on his face, including gratitude, regret, hope, and sorrow.
He opened his mouth, and I could see him struggling to find the right words; all those years of eloquent speeches as the pack’s second-in-command, and now language failed him. But countless sentences eventually became just one: “You too.” Two words that carried the weight of decades, of everything that had been and would never be.
I opened the car door and got inside; Elias started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
As the car drove away, the forlorn, slightly stooped figures behind faded into indistinct shadows in the swirling white.
Snowflakes fell on the car window, blurring my vision–or were they tears? After all these years, I couldn’t tell.
