16 Post-Its

♔ Tristen (P.O.V)

I came immediately inside after the spar, so I could get some clothes on. At some point, I found myself in my new office.

"Felix?" I reach out to him through the pack bond as I sit in the chair pulled snuggly to the wooden desk.

My office, the truth is it isn't, nor will it be for a while. It was my father's, and every object that was his remains. The office is the same rectangular shape. The wooden desk rests snuggly in the place it has for years. The chair still hugging the boundary between the desk and wall. The walls are still the same hickory wood, and the smell of preservatives wafts around the room.

Few changes reside in the office one is the inhabitant of the room, me. The papers no longer litter the desk. Instead, they're neatly organized in the center of the desk. The picture frame of my family still rests on the left corner of the desk.

In the picture, my mother's classic blue Sunday dress made her long blonde hair shine. Her vibrant hair followed the curves of her body perfectly. Only a few stray strands of hair found a spot over her shoulders, almost giving the heart-shape face of hers an even bigger glow. Joyful laughter was captured perfectly as a smile when the camera took the picture at the right moment.

My father wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans. Simple as always, although he could dress up if he wanted to. His hair was a vibrant and healthy brown tucked away in a ponytail. Almost the exact copy of my father I smiled brightly, enjoying our picnic. I, however, was dressed for the occasion. I wore a white and blue plaid pullover shirt with black buttons down the middle and denim jeans.

My chest lunges at the reminder of my father. He's dead. I'll never see him again, and it's my fault. Brushing my right index finger along the side of the paper's he's left for me, I carefully begin to pull them apart. Every motion of moving the paper wafted the smell of the office around. It smelt just like him. Holding back tears, I begin to examine the papers thoroughly.

Most of the papers were simply standard by most means. Packs that were loyal to us asked for help in many ways. Food, clothes, money, medicine, or any necessity they couldn't achieve on their own. The duke of my pack would take down the notes and anything that was mentioned during their conversation. He would then hand them to the king, who's choice it was to either grant or deny their requests.

A few post-it notes littered a select few papers, all in my father's handwriting.

An image of his limp, bloodied body flashes across my vision. Remembering the sound of him dying ringing through my ears.

A warm liquid begins to stream down my face as I continue reading his last note to me. "For how our traditions are, I'm sorry. Maybe someday you'll find a way to change them. It's hard to please a kingdom, and that's what you'd have to do. Anyway, I know you haven't worked on papers like these, so I left a few notes on important ones. Things I would do, and you don't have to make the same decision I came to. You're the king now, and just know I'd be proud either way you go. I love you son."

Most of his notes scattered through various pages consisted of his views on the matter they addressed. His notes seem helpful, even at such a limited glimpse.

"It's not fair," I murmur.

Emotions run rampant in every cell of my body, as a loud sob escapes my lips. I drop the papers I had been reading back onto the desk as I grasp my head on both sides, slowly rocking back and forth.

My father's peppered gray and red wolf flashed in my mind, his weak body strung lifelessly on the ground.

"Stop," I breathe, begging through sobs as I'm still clutching my head rocking.

Yet it doesn't stop, the visions continue to plague my mind as a prodding sensation pokes at my brain.

His eyes glazed over as blood pooled out of the crushed opening in his throat. The red liquid mixed with the flakey dirt making a grotesque mud puddle form around him, further matting his already dusty and bloody coat.

If he had turned back into his human form, I would have lost it. I wouldn't have been able to walk away. The only reason I'm thankful I'm a full blood Lycan instead of werewolf. We don't change back if we die in wolf form, regular werewolves do.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Three knocks ring across my father's office door, bringing me out of my thoughts..

No. My door.

The door creaks open, and Felix pops his boy-band styled blond head through the crack. "Tree, you tried to get ahold of me?"

Briskly grabbing some papers from the stack I pretend to start looking through them. "Yea, I did. Why didn't you respond over the pack link?"

"Um. I tried, you weren't answering so I came to check on you."

My mouth makes a small o. I hadn't even realized he tried to get ahold of me.

"So, what'd you need man?"

Skimming over the papers paying a small amount of attention to what they contain, I whisper. " I just wanted someone to talk to."

"Just say that Tree. You just went through some rough shit, as your best friend I'm here for you. As your duke, I'm here to help you with that," he points at the stack of papers I hold in my hands.

"You're a blessing from the goddess herself," I laugh forcefully at my monotone joke.

"Don't be such a poser. Is there anything good in there?" He leans over the papers, propping himself up using the desk.

"No-" I cut myself off. There hadn't been anything of interest until I pass a paper with a red post-it note on it. All the others had been blue, green or yellow, but not red.

"Lemme see," Felix grabs the paper with the red note out of my hand and begins to read the paper out loud.

"There's been reports from incoming rogues that have crossed our borders, that a pack is recruiting them into their ranks. That's not against regulations, but it is at an alarming rate.

One of the rogues we caught was someone from a pack that had been slaughtered by hunters and werewolves. Her entire pack had been killed resulting in her becoming a packless wolf. She claimed her pack was called Shadow Thorns. We have that pack in the records of loyal clans but will need to investigate further. If a pack is involved with hunters, accumulating members and murdering other packs then they pose a threat to the royal pack."

Looking up at me he pauses and rubs his hand through his hair. "Your father's note says that the case is a few years old and that his health started failing and couldn't go check himself. The only clues he has are that there are three surrounding packs to the Shadow Thorns. The Wind Flankers, Storm Hunters, and Rushing River. He also said he was sorry he couldn't help more."

The Rushing River pack. That's what that one guy said his pack's name was. "Felix, some guy around our age came up to me and said his pack's name was one of the three on that list. He invited me to an event he's going to host 'in my honor' at his packhouse. I never accepted because I was still in my wolf form."

"Are you going to go?" Felix asks almost bouncing in excitement.

"I never intended to honestly. I have a lot of things I need to catch up on and figure out. If this note is red, it must be important, and like it said in that note it could be bad for our pack. As king, I have to make sure all our loyal packs are safe. As alpha of the Royal Lycan pack, it's my job to protect everyone here."

"Looks like we have a reason to accept his invite then," Felix smiles wickedly, his silver eyes shining with excitement.