3.1 | Animal Instinct ✓

18 | guilt

  

1 8

g u i l t

BUSINESS AT THE diner seemed to slow to a crawl that day.

And because the day dragged on, it was incredibly easy to wallow in the aftermath of Spike's death or to worry about the rest of the pack. With half of Titan gone, it didn't even matter that Lorraine or Lance or Adrian weren't there to help. Dimitri and I managed the breakfast, lunch and dinner crowds all on our own; with occasional help from the teenagers who seemed to spend most of their day at the diner.

"It's a lot better than being locked up at home, scared and staring at the four walls," said Terence, when I thanked him for his help. He and Harvie had agreed to serve the food, while the others took up different jobs – like washing the dirty dishes or manning the cash register.

"Staring at the four walls has to be better than having to see all your stupid faces," muttered Dimitri, as he passed us, and simply rolled his eyes when Terence flipped him the middle finger. He leaned back on the counter, an aggravated look on his face as he glanced around at the other kids busy with their respective tasks, mostly because a couple of them were pretty much yelling at each other from across the kitchen.

"Don't listen to him," I told Terence and gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "I know how much Spike meant to all of you."

"It's impossible not to miss him," Dion said, as he stuck a new order to the tabletop and leaned against the counter. There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes when he talked about Spike but he offered me a faint smile nonetheless, as a vague reassurance that he was coping well. "He was the only one apart from Alpha who actually cared enough about us to teach us how to fight."

I tried to blink away the mental image of Spike teaching the younger ones, the bright smile of pride on his face when he was satisfied with their accomplishments and the fact that Spike would've been such a fantastic father if only he'd been alive. No wonder Lorraine was so distraught. There were a million and one this-would-be's and this-could-be's that was never going to be fulfilled.

I took a deep breath and smiled brightly at the two boys. "Well, if you want, Dimitri over there can teach you – "

"Over my fucking dead body," growled Dimitri, who'd clearly overheard us and was glaring at me with annoyance while I tried my best not to smile. He narrowed his eyes at Terence and Dion, both of whom were staring at him with hopeful gazes. "If you kids want to learn how to fight – you get beaten up. The more beatings you get, the tougher your skin gets and eventually, you learn to block before you can take a fucking hit. Simple as that."

I shook my head at him because, truth be told, there was no arguing with that logic. It made a lot of sense. It reminded me of Jed, who'd been abused so many times and taken the brunt of it so many times until, one day, he eventually snapped and fought back. And killed. You didn't know how far you could go or what you could be, until you were pushed to the limit.

But I pushed that aside for the time being and headed back outside to the corner booth that Jed usually occupied. I'd spent the afternoon lull studying more about wolves – actual wolves this time, and not werewolves. Dimitri was right. Werewolves essentially behaved like their counterparts. They had the whole pack dynamics down to a tee, albeit with slight variations here and there. And the brown wolf I'd seen the night before had stood in a way that didn't seem at all passive or submissive in front of Jed.

I mulled over the situation for a while longer before noticing Dimitri serving a customer out of the corner of my eye. Before I knew it, I was calling him over. "Hey, Dimitri?"