Over the years, Gabe had learned that it was almost always best to be a little bit wary when going into situations such as this one. When he’d returned to Norway and to the pack who had scorned and then outcasted him, he’d been entirely too optimistic, so sure that he was going to show up, get what he wanted and depart without so much as a scratch.
It hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected it to.
He’d gotten away without having to fight his way out and that was fortunate for him and for his uncle and aunt and cousins, but truth be told, Gabe would have rather gone head to head with his father (again) if doing so meant leaving with Sasha. He’d been prepared—back then—to violently engage his father and anyone else who’d dare to get in his way.
So many times after that, he’d been prepared again and again and again, for bloodshed, for brawls, for a fight to the death that he had convinced himself he’d walk away from.
Gabe had come to the Sates with a purpose, with a deep-seated need to find his brother and deliver him to the safety and comfort of their family back in Croatia. He’d had tips to go off of, leads to follow, a trail that beckoned him further and deeper into unknown territory. His cousin in California had told him, had insisted, that if and when he had Sasha in sight, he call him and wait for him to arrive before going in alone. There was an alpha to worry about, and Gabe knew nothing about him, didn’t know how old he was or how experienced or how hard he’d fight to keep what Vedra had given to him.
There were only so many dead ends he could bash himself against before he started to think that maybe his father had lied to him, that maybe Sasha wasn’t in the United States after all. Giving up hadn’t been on his agenda, but he was tired and discouraged and he wasn’t sure about anything anymore, let alone his ability to find a brother who had been lost to a world too large for him to even fully comprehend.
Finding Sasha here seemed to be too good to be true. To fall across him accidentally, just when he was giving up, could only be summed up with one word: miracle. And Gabe didn’t believe in miracles.
He was feeling hesitant and anxious, but he was ready to go out and find the brother he’d spent years looking for.
When the knock came, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, lacing up his boots.
He was up and bounding for the door in an instant, yanking it wide open.
What met his eyes wasn’t what he’d been expected to see. Sasha looked like a puppy who’d been kicked one too many times. He was smaller than he’d thought he’d be. Gabe could practically smell the docility on him, the submissiveness that he had always tried to steer him away from.
In comparison, Gabe was… well, Gabe looked more like their father, like something wild and free and animal. He was smaller though, slimmer, more graceful, with a bird feather entwined in his long hair and eyes that were too kind to belong to Vedra.
Gabe reached out for him, his hand coming to rest on Sasha’s frail shoulder.