If it hadn't been dreamland, a jump like that would've killed me. Instead, I landed hard on a mound of dirt located directly outside the charred ring of our former home.
Here lies Jazz Whitten.
It wasn't a mound of dirt. It was Jazz's grave.
You did this.
None of the others could be blamed for putting Jazz's life in danger. That had been me and my dick.
I'd known what could happen, that it was a possibility. I'd known and decided I wouldn't protect him.
No wonder the guys didn't always see me as their leader.
What qualities did I have that qualified me to tell anyone else what to do?
"Knox." Diesel's low rumble came from the other direction. His voice was soft and low-toned, like dragging heavy wooden furniture over a smooth floor. "Remember what the doctor said."
She'd told me this wasn't my fault, that I couldn't have known. But I had known. I had known this had happened before.
"Jazz isn't dead. Don't put him in the ground before he belongs there." Diesel spoke with a hard edge, each word dipped in a thin candy-coating of bitterness. "You've failed your omega when he's hurt or dead. Not before. Don't pretend there isn't a difference."
His anger couldn't be ignored. Suffocating in its intensity, I wanted to claw my way out of it, but his anger was deserved. I was being a poor leader, a poor alpha, by pitying myself. Maybe I had made a mistake, but the time to wonder and agonize was later, when there wasn't a task at hand.
I understood what Diesel meant. Take care of Jazz now. Always. Even if you doubt your ability.
"Thank you."
Diesel's reply was a single wolfy grunt.
I watched the ocean light up. As the sun rose in the east, it illuminate the dark west coast waves. Up here, the water wasn't turquoise and clear. It was an enraged type of dark-blue, turning grayer or greener depending on the conditions. This ocean didn't entice you with tropical dreams of coconuts in the sand. It dared you to challenge it.
I preferred these sorts of beaches. Our work took us around the world, in plenty of picturesque locales. But nothing in nature was as awe-inspiring as endless miles of taunting seas all crashing right outside your doorstep.
The small hairs at my nape stood up, and I looked around the room for the cause. Dr. Tiff was still asleep. I'd taken over checking Jazz's vitals after Faust went to sleep. The twins were in the other corner in their wolf forms, their legs twisted around one another. Diesel remained in his corner, asleep as well. And Faust and Dog were both laying down with their eyes closed.
Only Jazz was awake, and I smiled at his warm gaze before getting to my feet when my brain caught up with what I was seeing.
"You're awake." My throat was tight as the weight of failure—the absolute knowledge that I had killed my omega—sloughed off me like old skin. I hadn't failed. He was here. He was awake and in his human form. They both were, though only Father was currently awake.
Before I made it all the way to him—a journey that consisted of an entire four steps—the others woke. The twins bounded in, able to be playful in their wolf forms in a way they didn't feel as humans. Faust and Dog rolled over to face him, and Dr. Tiff got to her feet, hands automatically to her ponytail as she unleashed her hair before restraining it once more.
"Look what I found. A baby," Jazz joked. His eyes shone with tears and pride. He yawned suddenly, lifting his free fist above his head in a stretch. "What happened? It is not the same time I remember it being."
Dr. Tiff took over filling Jazz in as well as examining both father and child now that they were awake—mostly. My son had Jazz's button nose, his oval face. I already knew he took after us both in his wolf form and wouldn't mind if he'd taken only Jazz's human traits. The kid would be luckier that way.
My gaze never wavered as the others pressed in, scenting my omega and pup now they were in their human forms. Huntley lifted Jazz's hand with his muzzle, flopping it back until Jazz's palm rested between Huntley's ears. Jazz scratched him, seeming to understand how Huntley needed the contact.
I'd do my own examining and reassuring once the others had their fill and I could take Jazz and our son into our room. I'd inspect every inch of both of them—likely more than once. I could be generous now since I knew I'd have both to myself later. For the moment, I hung back, simply enjoying the rare peaceful moment.
Chapter Fifteen
Jazz
When Knox told me I'd sprouted wings, I'd started laughing. It sounded like a joke.
You were surrounded by this bright light, and then the light exploded, and you were a wolf…with wings.
That was ridiculous. And yet it was exactly what Knox and the others claimed had happened.
I craned my head over my shoulder, trying to look at my back in the mirror after an afternoon nap. No wings. Not even spaces for wings.
I'd been too exhausted—despite being told I'd slept for more than two days—to try shifting the day before. Even so, this morning, Dr. Tiff said she had to get back to the Walker County pack now that I'd given birth and we were both doing well. She'd come back for our checkups every couple of weeks, and I'd spent the morning helping her pack up. That only meant I'd spent the morning directing the twins on how to help her pack up since I was still too fragile in all of their minds to lift a dainty finger.
I wasn't stupid enough to complain. Unlike before, now, I felt fragile. I hadn't gone through labor in the normal sense. There hadn't been hours of panting and threats, but I'd still gone through a transformation. One that I was still trying to catch up with.
I had a child. I was a wolf. Neither felt very true yet. I'd only been pregnant for two weeks. By the time I came to terms with the fact that I was pregnant, it had been time to have the baby. And I hadn't felt all that involved. Hearing the story told, I hadn't been that involved. I'd screamed silently and then slept. And I was still exhausted.
Knox mentioned something about taking me down to the beach to stretch my legs. I didn't think he meant my human legs.
Lifting my nose to the air, I waited for the bouquet of scents to reach me. I was a shifter now. That meant being able to see, smell, and hear much better. Except I smelled my lotion, the fabric softener in my shirt, a faint whiff of peppermint from the cream Hallie had left—I didn't know how to break the latest development to her and was pretty sure our silent agreement to not ask questions would end about the time she spotted the baby outside my body.
I couldn't detect anything outside of what I'd already been able.
I pulled my shirt over my head. I could stare in the mirror all day and wonder why everything had happened the way it had, or I could make my way downstairs and find my son and alpha.
It wasn't a very difficult choice.
I sensed Knox downstairs. At least that quirk was still the same. My feet must've sprouted wings as well because I zoomed down the hallway and flew—not literally—down the stairs toward the kitchen.
I heard Huntley's voice first. "Samuel is a good name. You have it backwards."
"No, the kitten is on the front. That's what the picture looks like. You don't think we should choose Pierce?" Knox asked.
They knew I was outside the kitchen. I wasn't sneaking, but I still lingered. We hadn't talked about baby names. My father hadn't named me. I'd arrived on his doorstep with a pack of diapers, a can of formula and a birth certificate with the name Jazz Whitten already supplied. I wouldn't name my child after either of my parents. And though I had no real reason to not want to name my son Pierce, I still found my nose wrinkling at the suggestion.