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And they could feel my grief, so new.
For them, eight days had passed. They’d been to the funeral and turned the page, with only the memories to live with now. For me, the news was fresh, the grief suffocating. Accompanying grief was guilt—the guilt that I’d been absent when my pack needed me the most. That I’d allowed us to be attacked, for wolves to fall.
And yet, here we were, united. Running in solidarity.
My pain was theirs, and theirs was mine. I had no doubt that they would back me if I decided to exact revenge this second, but I couldn’t. Not yet.
I didn’t know how long we ran for, but eventually, I circled back, the pack following. I stopped at the werewolf burial ground that we had created decades ago. After the werewolves were burned at their funerals, their ashes were buried in the woods. This burial served as a sign that our spirits would always run free in nature.
The patches of freshly dug and covered soil made my heart lurch. In another breath, I shifted back into human form, not caring that I was completely naked.
We never placed names on the graves, but one pile called to me. I walked over and allowed the warm tears to wash over my cheeks. The ground was moist as I knelt down and placed my hands on the grave.
The pack members that had run with me moved closer silently as they shifted back, some deciding to stay in their wolf forms. They kept a distance, but I could feel them, like a silent and distant embrace.
I struggled to accept that my mother was gone.
I would never get to see her again.
She’d always been such a fierce protector, a mother to the entire pack. Even after my father died, she refused to allow herself to be consumed by mourning—except for the day of the funeral, when she locked herself up in their room for the remainder of the day, refusing to eat or speak to anyone until she emerged the next morning.
Even then, she came straight to me to make sure that I was okay. After she held me in her arms and comforted me, she steeled herself and explained that I had to step into his shoes. There was no more time for mourning because my father was at peace.
We had an entire pack to take care of and I fully expected her to take her rightful place as the alpha. Grace was a brilliant leader, but she didn’t want it. She’d always said that I was destined to be alpha and with a role model like my father, I was destined to be remembered through time.
As I ran my fingers through the fresh dirt on top of the grave, I whispered, “I’m sorry, Mom. You shouldn’t have saved me. I didn’t get to say goodbye, but like you said after Dad died, it’s not really goodbye. At least, I know that you are finally at peace and running with Dad, just like you always wanted.”
A tear dripped down my face, clinging to the tip of my nose. I swiped it away and said, “I hope the grass is plushy, just how you like it. And I’ll bet Dad’s already arguing that the crunch of the leaves is more exhilarating than the soft grass.” I choked out a laugh that turned into a heavy sob.
The soil vibrated slightly beneath my touch, and I closed my eyes as I felt Grace’s spirit dance over me for a moment. She caressed my cheek, and I could see her sad smile in my mind. In her touch, I felt the masculine presence of my father, beaming with pride. Love poured into me, and I returned it with every fiber of my being.
“I love you, too.”
I stood back up and stared at the other fresh graves, a resolute fury settled into my chest. I passed by each grave, silently thanking each one for their sacrifice.
As I jumped back into my wolf form, I had one resounding thought: I would get my revenge, no matter the cost.
Kellan, Victor, and their whole pack would suffer greatly before I killed them, one by one. I promised this to myself, to Grace, and to every other packmate that had fallen. This promise also included my father, who had been deceived by Victor, Kellan and Griffin’s dad.
A chorus of howls filled the air, and a sense of purpose burrowed its way into my heart.
