The funeral was beautiful in its simplicity, even if it felt like my heart was being ripped apart with every passing second. Luca and Kimmy, two lives that should've burned brightly for years to come, were instead reduced to glowing embers, drifting out over the still waters of the lake. Their coffins—handcrafted by the pack—sat atop makeshift rafts that floated gently until the fire consumed them completely. Flames licked the sky, casting long shadows over the gathered wolves. It was a hauntingly poetic farewell, but no amount of beauty could erase the ache in my chest.
I stood near the edge of the crowd, separate but present, as the pack paid their final respects. No one spoke to me, not really. Not unless you counted the passing nods or the pity-filled glances. Marcus and Ethan were the only ones who dared approach. Ethan placed a steadying hand on my shoulder once, and I was grateful. He and I were close once and knowing that he still was on my side despite the past was humbling.
Even so, I felt like I didn't belong there. The whispers didn't bother me—they were deserved. Every accusing glare, every hushed murmur of "Cale's Luna" cut deep because they weren't wrong. Luca and Kimmy were gone, and though no one said it aloud, I knew they blamed me. Hell, I blamed me. If I'd been stronger, faster—if I'd been smarter—they might still be alive.
Weeks bled into months, and the suffocating grief became something else. Not less painful, but duller, like a blade worn down by too much use. I learned to function again, to put one foot in front of the other without shattering into a thousand pieces. Ethan rose to Alpha in Luca's place. It wasn't contested; no one questioned the decision. He stepped into the role with quiet strength, commanding respect simply by existing, and though the pack was battered and broken, they rallied behind him.
Their father, though, wasn't as fortunate. He was almost as strong as Luca; the stronger ones were picked out first in the attack so he had been critically injured in the battle, along with so many others. The losses were staggering, and it wasn't just our clan. Cale's pack and Alexander's wolves had been decimated too. Everyone retreated to lick their wounds and rebuild, retraining new pack members in case war came knocking again. It wasn't peace, not really, but it was the closest the packs had in years.
Cale hadn't let me go, of course. That was wishful thinking. He still paraded me around as his Luna, a title I bore like a shackle around my neck. But things were different now. The iron grip he'd once held over me had loosened, slightly. I think he realized that keeping me locked away only made me more defiant, more desperate to escape. So he gave me freedom—not much, but enough to take the edge off my rebellion. I went through the motions of my so-called duties, but it all felt hollow. Meaningless. His new toy, Crissy kept him busy at least but that little bitch will get what's coming to her too-eventually.
I didn't care anymore. Not about her, him, or about what he wanted. My soul had been crushed the day Luca died, and nothing Cale did could hurt me more than that. I spent most of my days alone, wandering through the pack lands or sitting on the hill overlooking the lake. The lake where I'd said my final goodbye to the only man I'd ever truly loved.
Today was no different. The sun dipped low in the sky, staining the water a deep orange-red, like the flames that had consumed Luca's raft. My fingers brushed against the faint scar on my neck, the place where his mate mark had once been. It was barely visible now, just a ghost of what it used to be. Another reminder of everything I'd lost.
My other hand rested on my stomach, almost instinctively. It was strange—this tiny, growing life inside me felt like the one piece of Luca that hadn't been taken away. His legacy, his blood. Our child. A son. I whispered his name to myself sometimes when no one was around, like a sacred prayer: Lucian.
He was my reason now. My anchor. The need for revenge still burned in my chest, but it was no longer reckless or wild. It was focused, cold, deliberate. I would protect this child with every ounce of strength I had. And one day, when the time was right, I would make them pay for what they'd done to us. All of them. Cale. Alexander. Crissy. Casey. Everyone who had a hand in Kimmy's and Luca's deaths.
A soft breeze rustled the trees around me, and for a moment, I thought I felt Luca's presence, like he was watching over us. It was probably just my imagination, but I let myself believe it anyway. I looked down at my stomach, stroking it gently.
"Don't worry, Lucian," I murmured, my voice barely audible over the wind. "We'll avenge your father one day. I promise."