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Pre-epilogue
Zephyr
Shewokeupin the hospital, her first memory that of Zen throwing a pillow at her, laughing with a wide smile that lit up her eyes, telling her not to get herself killed. The next memory crashed in, Zen on the ground in her arms, a trembling smile on her lips, the light leaving her eyes.
Zephyr stared up at the ceiling, blinking, tears falling down the side of her face, unable to give thought to the hole in her heart. Sometimes, grief was like that—thoughtless, wordless, soundless. Sometimes, it was inexplicable, being pumped out by a cracked heart, infusing in the blood that went to every part of the body, mixing with the cells until it became as regular as breathing.
She looked to her side, to see her husband looking at her with quietness, the loss she felt in her bones reflected in his single eye. She clutched his hand, holding tightly, and he gave her his strength, letting her take whatever she needed.
After a few moments of letting herself grieve, she croaked out. “Is she…”
The look on his face was answer enough.
Tears slid down her face. “Was she… did she escape The Syndicate?”
“Yeah.”
Oh god, what had she endured? Her baby sister.
"Do my parents...?"
He gave her a nod.
Zephyr felt her nose twinge, her lips quivering. He got up from the chair and came to her side, pulling her up into his arms, and the floodgates opened again. She sobbed into his chest and wept, her wails leaving her body in the remembered pain of holding her sister's body, seeing her last breath, and he held her through it all, his strength a rock against the storm within her.
***
They had the funeral after a week.
Her baby sister was laid in the ground, Zen's family and friends and colleagues and all the lives she’d touched with her light, attending the event. Morana sat on the side, her arm in a sling, with Tristan at her side, and seeing the other woman just made her question so many things about her sister, and Morana probably knew, because there was a pain in her eyes every time they looked at each other.
Her parents clung to her, but barely spared a glance at her husband. She knew they blamed him, but knowing what she knew, it wasn’t his burden to carry. Zenith had escaped something evil, built a good life for herself, and it had caught up to her. Alpha couldn’t have seen it coming. No one could have, except possibly Zenith herself. Her sister was gone, and her secrets with her. They’d never know what she’d run from and what she’d left behind.
The funeral had taxed her, in more ways than she'd ever been. It felt like her lungs weren't getting enough air, and no matter how much she tried, they felt tight and heavy and short of breath. The only time she felt she could catch a breath was when she let herself fall into her husband's arms, and he held her, letting her borrow all his strength.
Taking a sip of her wine, Zephyr sat on the deck, looking out at the forest laid out beyond her, all three dogs around her chair. Since she’d come back home, they’d sensed her grief, and all of them, even Baron, had been near her with their compassion since.
She heard everyone’s voices inside, talking about The Syndicate and how to proceed, and she was torn. One part of her wanted to know everything, wanted to know what her sister had run from, and get her vendetta against the assholes who had hunted her down. For the first time in her life, Zephyr felt capable of taking another life. They had told her Hector had escaped, and she knew if she saw him again, she would kill him.
Another part, the larger part, didn’t want to know anything. It wanted to remember Zen as she’d been, with her big heart and beautiful soul and selfless way of loving. She didn’t want to know if her sister had done something bad to escape whatever hell she’d been in. It didn’t want to know why someone had hunted her down the way they had. Her baby sister had been the first person she’d loved unconditionally, and she always wanted to remember her as that.
But she also wanted the truth. As much as she wanted to hide, this was her world now, and it had taken her sister, and she wanted to know the facts.
Pushing to her feet, she padded in, the dogs on her heels.
Dante and Amara sat on one couch, Tristan and Morana on another, and her husband sat alone on the armchair. His golden, powerful gaze came to her as she entered, and he held out his hand, calling her to him. She quietly walked to his side, settling as he pulled her on his lap, sipping her wine.
“Where are the kids?” she asked, looking around and seeing the absence of chaos.
“Upstairs, sleeping,” Amara answered in her soft, husky voice. “Leah is staying with them.”
Zephyr nodded, a seed in her doubting if Leah was trustworthy. If any of them except her husband were trustworthy. She didn’t know if she could trust anyone anymore.
Alpha rubbed her back, soothing her tumultuous thoughts.
"She was Gabriel's daughter," Morana swallowed, her eyes visibly misting, coming to lock on Zephyr's. "She was the real me. And I always wondered what happened to her, you know? If she was okay. And even though she'd gone, I just want you to know I'm really glad she had a good life, that she had you. She was loved, and she knew that."
Zephyr felt her throat tighten, her grip flexing around her wine glass. Alpha's arms squeezed her softly, reminding her she wasn't alone.
