Todos los capítulos de Breath Without Me: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

Keith's POVI don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know why I've been sitting across the street from his house for over the past two hours. I can't bring myself to get out of the car and knock on the door. I haven't spoken to Peter since the day he left. Hell, I barely spoke to him before he left. I don't know what it was about Jason getting hurt that fucked me up so much, but it did. I completely withdrew from Peter and everything outside of Jason. I couldn't focus on anything or anyone but my brother. Maybe I was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under my feet. Waiting for them to tell me my brother never got off that table, and I've been imagining he is alive, and nothing's been real since that day in the hospital... I suppose that's it. I've been afraid of losing the last piece of family I have left. I don't know. Or maybe it's more than that. Since the day Jason was born, I've always been so close to him. That little dude had me wrapped around his finger from the mom

Keith's POVI feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up as I enter the familiar small town in the middle of nowhere. My knuckles turn white as my hands tighten around the steering wheel. I glance out the window at the old buildings along the single short strip, also known as their downtown.There's not much here. If you blink, you might miss it. There's a small post office, and next to it is a gas station that doubles as the town's grocery store. There's a small bar a little ways down, and across the street there's a feed store, and a barbershop beside it…Then, just like that… farmland. Farmland as far as the eye can see. It's exactly the same as it was fourteen years ago when I walked away from this place with my brother in my arms.I continue past the way too small town, and it's not long before I see the place I'm dreading on the other side of the fields to my left. I see the thick row of trees that hides the place that still haunts my dreams. It's tucked within the woods, an

Third Person's POV Tristan moves through the house on light feet; his arm reaches up high over his head, moving the duster in his hand along the picture frames. His lips move as he sings along to the song playing through the speakers. When the song ends, he's tempted to replay it. He really loved Leona Lewis's song, “Bleeding Love.” But as soon as the next song began to play, that song disappeared from his head, and the only thing he wanted to hear now was the song currently playing. It was an older song, one he knew and liked before he met Walker, but it wasn't one of his favorites. It was okay, and he'd listened to it if it came on. But he wouldn't go out of his way to play it.Now… that song is high on his list. In fact, it's one of his favorite songs. It has been since the day Walker quietly sang it to him by the bonfire.Walker gave that song a whole new meaning. He is his knight in shining armor. He rescued him from death and that sick and twisted Alpha. He's shown him love, a

Jason's POVThe pack house is extremely quiet this morning. Then again, it usually is this early in the morning. It's not like our pack house is full of hundreds of young warriors. We're a smaller pack, and we don't operate like city packs. Packs in the city live on the outskirts of town, and they usually own a large portion of land where they all reside.Living in the country is different, especially when you live in a small town like ours. And this small town has a small werewolf population. And our pack house may not be one of the largest, but it's a decent size, and right now it's quiet.Sara made breakfast early and put it on the warmer for everyone when they woke up. She was down here by 5:00 am and gone before 7:00 am. How do I know that? I've been down here since before 4:30 am. Why? Because the same nightmare haunted me last night, and I woke up screaming for my father; only he wasn't there when I woke up. I couldn't go back to sleep after that. Every time I closed my eyes,

Tristan's POVI keep a death grip on Walker's hand as I nervously walk beside him toward the hospital. I tilt my head back as I look up at the tall building, and my stomach twists in knots. I never really liked hospitals, and after having cancer and being in their hospice center, trying to stretch my short life out just a little longer, I now hate them with a passion. A shiver races down my spine as memories from my short stay come racing back, memories of me slowly dying while being cooped up in one of those rooms. My heart pangs knowing my mother is going through the same thing. Or at least something similar. She's in one of those rooms dying, just like I was, and I'm afraid to see her. I'm afraid of what I'll see.She was always a quiet person, just like I was. I guess you kind of had to be when you lived with someone like my father. Saying the wrong thing would earn you a backhand at the very least. I think she stayed quiet all those years to avoid saying the wrong thing and trigg