CHAPTER 5. Too Late for Later 

"No way," he muttered, his voice hoarse as he gripped the steering wheel of his truck. "That can't be."

Air slowly filled his lungs, but it felt like inhaling shards of glass as the healer's potion fought against the curse. When his breathing finally leveled out, and he lifted his head from the steering wheel, he froze. The sky beyond the windshield was pitch black.

Leah... right, Leah.

Owen’s pace faltered. He stopped in front of Lexy, his massive frame trembling from the exertion. "Is it true?" His voice shook, barely above a whisper. "Is... she..."

He couldn't force the word out.

"Leah?" Lexy let out a bitter, echoing laugh. Her glare was piercing, but the tears suddenly brimming in her eyes betrayed her. "If you're asking if she's dead, yeah, Hayes. She's dead. But why the hell do you care now?"

Owen slammed his heavy hand onto the wooden table. The wood splintered under his force. "Don't mess with me! How could she... How could Leah—"

Lexy shoved the table aside, springing to her feet. She pushed Owen so hard in the chest that his massive, weakened frame actually staggered backward.

“Rogue’s attack!”

“What?”

“That's what killed her, you arrogant jerk!”

She screamed at him, the words tearing out of her like shrapnel. She told him how Leah’s wolfless body had begun shutting down entirely. How she had collapsed in the middle of a brutal beating from Rachel's crew. How Lexy had ridden with her in the ambulance, holding her ice-cold hand as blood streamed uncontrollably from her nose, her bone marrow entirely failing to produce blood cells.

"Do you know what it’s like to take your best friend to the hospital, praying the pack healers will fix her, only to watch her leave in a body bag?!"

He stood completely paralyzed, suffocating on the heavy night air. The curse in his veins pulsed violently in agreement.

“The whole school knows!” she snapped, tears finally spilling over her cheeks. "Half the senior class attended her funeral out of sheer guilt! All you had to do was ask someone! Anyone! You were the Alpha Heir!"

She lunged at him. Her fists flew toward his chest. His right hand twitched, rising automatically on pure combat instinct to block the strike. But then he stopped. The fight drained completely out of him. He let his arms drop dead to his sides.

"If you weren't such an apathetic, ego-driven loser, you wouldn't be coming to me three years too late!"

Owen stood there, letting her pummel him. He had taken harder punches in the fighting rings. He had taken claws to the chest. None had ever hurt like this.

“Even when she was hurting, even when Rachel was destroying her, she never once blamed you. And when she finally needed you, where the hell were you?”

Again, Owen clawed at his neck, struggling for air as the potion's magic began to thin.

"I always knew you were a selfish prick," Lexy gritted out, her voice ragged. "Hiding behind that 'childhood best friend' bullshit while treating her like you owned her! Couldn’t you have gone easier on her?”

Lexy pushed him one last time, stepping back in absolute disgust. "So much for an Alpha's protection, huh?”

Owen didn't defend himself. He couldn't.

"Where?" his voice broke, splintering into something entirely unrecognizable. "Where is she? Please…”

Lexy stared at him. “Get lost.”

She turned around and walked away.

Owen stood motionless, staring at the empty space where she had been. He wanted to say something. Anything. But his throat had closed up completely. The sounds of the campus around him faded into a muted, ringing buzz.

Then, another voice slipped through the deafening silence.

"Owen…"

Leah?

He could almost see her standing in front of him. How had she looked at him that day in the hallway, right before she threw her shoe?

Ah. She had been crying, her face bruised and bleeding. The day before that, she had been apologizing for her feelings, for something she absolutely didn't need to apologize for. She had pleaded for them to just go back to being friends. And then... what had he said?

Later.

But now…

"Make it stop," Owen wheezed, his fingers weakly curling into the fine silk of the bedsheets. He turned his bloodshot, desperate eyes toward the blind healer. "Give me something. A stimulant. A blocker. Anything. I have to go."

"Owen, no!" Rowena cried out, throwing herself over his legs. "You can't move! The magic is eating your core!"

"Do you want me to die in this bed, Mother?" Owen roared, a fractured, agonizing sound that tore his throat to ribbons. He looked back at the healer. "I don't care if it burns out the rest of my days in a single hour. Give me the strength to stand."

The old healer hesitated, his milky eyes solemn, before slowly reaching into his robes. He produced a small, obsidian vial filled with a viscous, violently purple liquid. 

"This will not cure you, Alpha Heir. It will only numb the pain and force your beast to lend you its last reserves of strength. But once it wears off, the crash will be absolute."

Owen didn't hesitate. With trembling, agonizing effort, he snatched the vial and downed the burning liquid. Fire instantly erupted in his chest, hot and violent, but it washed away the paralyzing ice.

The night wind cut through the open windows, chilling his feverish skin to the bone. He stumbled through the wrought-iron gates of the quiet pack cemetery, the potion in his blood burning its absolute final reserves. The beam of his phone’s flashlight swept frantically across rows of polished granite stones, until the light finally froze.

There it was.

A small, unassuming headstone engraved with Leah Bisset. Beside the name was a small, weatherproofed photo of her smiling warmly at the camera. A photo he had taken himself, back when they were fifteen, sitting on his couch.

His massive frame finally gave out. He collapsed onto the damp grass, the impact jarring his bones. The devastatingly strong hands that had knocked out combat champions were now digging helplessly into the cold earth, tearing at the grass as if trying to violently rip the ground open and pull her back to the surface.

In the silent, suffocating darkness, he stifled a visceral, heart-wrenching howl that would have otherwise shattered the stillness of the night. He pressed his forehead directly against the cold, unyielding earth of her grave.

"I’m sorry... I’m sorry," his voice cracked, completely broken. "Please, please come back. I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong! Please, Ley, please... anyone, someone..."

He wished he could turn back time. He would pay any price, he would willingly sacrifice his own life, give up his wolf, give up his title as Heir, just to see Leah smile again.

"Please..."

His lungs seized. The potion finally burned out, leaving nothing but the crippling, fatal weight of the curse. Then, an absolute, pitch-black darkness swallowed him whole.

When he opened his eyes...