Page 117 of A Wolfe in the Woods

My fingers curled around the page. I remembered him after she’d left—how the house hadsharpened. How silence had become law. How his grief had turned into rules I could never follow perfectly enough.

The more I clawed to keep you, to protect you, the more I scratched you. I mistook fear for discipline. I told myself I was making you strong, but all I really did was teach you how to run.

Like I had done from Juniper Woods and later Graymore…and recently, from Blanchette.

I looked around the room.Hisroom, like I expected him to be standing behind me, watching me read this confession—still stern.

But he wasn’t. The cabin was quiet. It was just me and my memory of his ghost.

I made home feel like a cage.

A harsh breath left me—half laugh, half pain. He’d said it. He’d finally said it.

I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to become something else just to breathe. You were never the problem. My pride was. I should’ve been your shelter. Instead, I became a storm you had to weather.

I don’t leave you riches. I leave you something more difficult and more valuable.

Of course. Here it came. The part he could always say plainly.

My grip on the paper tightened.

Long before borders and laws, our people were born from these mountains. There are people who will never understand what that means. They see opportunity, so they’ll say and do anything to take it. We belong to this place, not the other way around. Some things are worth more than gold. Some things are worth protecting. So, these woods, our home…is your legacy. Now it’s your turn to protect it, for all of those that don’t have the strength or courage to fight for it.

My gaze lifted toward the window, toward the trees beyond. I remembered running between them as a boy, my mother’s laughter drifting from the porch. Later, it was games of Hunters and the Wolf with the other kids, Everwick’s version of hide-and-seek. Juniper Woods had always felt like a sentinel, waiting and watching.

The land never let go of me. It’s called you back for the same reason. I’m gone, and it needs a protector. That isn’t a curse, son. It’s a calling. Juniper Woods needs a protector…it needs the Black Wolf.

The words settled into me slowly, like something ancient recognizing its own.

I hope one day you understand this and why I couldn’t sell our heritage.

I closed my eyes.

I thought of all the times I’d called him stubborn. Old. A relic. A man who cared more about dirt than his own son.

Blanche’s face surfaced unbidden—hurt, furious, disbelieving.

Running. I’d always been running.

When I finished the letter, I sat there for a long time without moving. The frustration was still there. The pressure. The fear. But underneath it felt steadier now.

For the first time, I found understanding.

My father hadn’t stayed because he’d been stubborn. Or foolish. Or trapped.

He’d stayed because this placemeant something. Because it wasn’t just land. It was legacy. His own responsibility. The place where he’d belonged.

And I’d been standing in it my whole life, pretending it was just dirt and trees so I wouldn’t have to face what that meant about myself.

I folded the letter with care. My father’s death had been sudden. I thought it likely he hadn’t gotten the chance to retrieve the letter from its hiding place in time. It was by pure chance I’d found it…or perhaps I’d always been meant to find it now.

Blanche’s face surfaced in my mind. Her kindness shone bright, and the way she’d stood her ground even when it cost her.Shehadn’t run.

I had.

“I’m done,” I whispered to the empty room, and the absence of her felt suddenly, sharply present. Done running. Done doubting. Done letting fear dictate my choices.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and stared at it, thumb hovering over her name when I navigated to my contacts.