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Chapter 23
The air was thick with grief, suffocating, drowning me in the stench of blood and the overwhelming silence left behind. I stood beside my father’s lifeless form, his once–warm presence now reduced to a hollow shell, an echo of the strength he had once radiated. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. How could he be gone? My chest felt like it was caving in, the ache of loss ripping through me, jagged and relentless. My hands trembled, and I clenched them into fists, my nails digging so hard into my palms that I barely noticed the sting.
My wolf was a frantic, furious force within me, clawing and howling, desperate to escape and avenge the one who had been the rock in our lives. Breathe, I told myself, but each breath felt heavy, thick with denial. This was impossible. How could the one constant in my world be gone?
“Why?” I whispered, my voice fragile and
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broken as I stared down at his still face.
“Why him?” The words barely escaped my lips, swallowed up by the oppressive silence surrounding us.
Then, footsteps–a sound that tore through the fragile cocoon of grief I had built around myself. I turned to find Kayden and Francis approaching, their faces twisted with sorrow and shame. Of course, they would come now, when it was too late, when he was already gone. Their pity was a wound I couldn’t bear to see, a reminder of what they hadn’t done.
“Malinda…” Kayden‘ s voice was soft, cautious, as he reached out a hand toward me. But I pulled back sharply, a low growl escaping my lips before I could stop it.
“Don’t.” My voice trembled, laced with raw, uncontainable fury. “Don’t you dare.”
Kayden‘ s face tightened, a flicker of hurt crossing his features, but I didn’t care. Francis, ever the one to try to smooth
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things over, took a hesitant step forward, but my glare stopped him in his tracks. I felt the surge of my wolf rising, hungry for retribution, aching to unleash every shred of the fury roiling within me.
Francis swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. “Malinda, we… we‘ re so sorry. If we’d known—”
“Known?” I cut him off, my voice deadly quiet, vibrating with barely restrained anger. My gaze shifted between the two of them, sharp and unyielding. “What were you two doing while my father was being torn apart?”
The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with words left unsaid. Kayden’s jaw clenched as he looked away, unable to meet my eyes. “We… we didn’t know it was that bad,” he mumbled. “We were helping Sharon. She was in danger, Malinda. She needed us-”
“Sharon.” Her name was a poison on my tongue, a venomous whisper that cut
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through the air between us. “It’s always Sharon, isn’t it?”
A flicker of guilt crossed Kayden‘ s face, and Francis‘ s hand hovered, uncertain, but I took a step back, anger radiating off me in waves. “While my father was out there, fighting, sacrificing himself for this pack, you two were busy saving her?” The words burned in my throat, sharp and cutting. “He was dying, and you left him to save her?”
Kayden tried to protest, desperation lacing his voice. “Malinda, it’s not like that-”
“Then what is it like, Kayden?” I demanded, my voice edged with a cold, biting fury that I hardly recognized. “Tell me, what was it like to leave him to die while you ran off to protect her?”
He opened his mouth, but no words came. The silence was worse than any confession, pressing down on me, fueling the rage that already burned so fiercely within. I turned away, fists clenched, feeling utterly
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betrayed.
Then, Sharon appeared. Her steps were slow, hesitant, her face twisted in what might have once seemed like grief. But to me, it looked like an act, a carefully
curated facade of innocence. She moved closer, hand reaching out as if she had the right, as if she had the right to comfort me.
“Malinda,” she whispered, her voice thick with a sadness I couldn’t believe was real. “I… I’m so sorry. I….. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Her touch felt like ice against my skin. I shrugged her hand off, a growl rumbling from deep within my chest. “Don’t touch me,” I spat, each word dripping with disdain. My nails lengthened, sharpened, my wolf clawing just beneath the surface, desperate to break free and exact the vengeance I so desperately craved.
“But… but I’m so sorry,” she
stammered, her voice shaking. Her face crumpled in a pitiful show of regret, but I
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saw right through it. She had been the reason, the cause, and she was standing here, begging for absolution she didn’t deserve.
“Sorry?” My voice was a dangerous whisper, each syllable carrying the weight of pure, unfiltered hatred. “Sorry doesn’t bring him back, Sharon. My father is dead. Dead. Because of you.”
Sharon’s lip quivered, and she let out a soft, pitiful whimper, turning those wide, tear–filled eyes on me. “Please, Malinda, I… I never wanted this. I didn’t mean for this-”
“You didn’t mean it?” The words left my mouth dripping with disgust. I stepped forward, my vision tinted red with rage, my wolf thrumming with anger, every fiber of my being screaming for vengeance. “My father died protecting this pack, protecting all of you. And where were you? Hiding behind Kayden and Francis, acting helpless while he was out there dying.”
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Sharon’s eyes searched for support, darting to Kayden and Francis, but they stayed silent, their faces shadowed with shame. Their silence was another knife
twisting in my chest, deepening the betrayal.
“Malinda, please-” Sharon’s voice cracked, but I had no patience left.
“Enough!” My shout rang out like a thunderclap, slicing through the air. I felt the full force of my wolf surge forward, the anger, the grief, the betrayal all merging into one blinding, overwhelming need to release it all. I felt heat radiate from my body, my blood pulsing with the energy of my Lycan blood, demanding justice for the life stolen from me.
Just as I was about to lose control, I felt strong arms wrap around me, pulling me back from the edge. Damon. He held me close, his embrace grounding, his presence solid and unyielding. He was an anchor in the storm raging inside me.
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“Malinda,” he murmured, his voice a low, calming hum. “Look at me. Breathe.”
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus on his steady heartbeat, a rhythm I could cling to. His fingers traced gentle circles on my back, soothing the fury and grief that tore through me. His presence felt like a balm, a salve to the raw, bleeding wound in my
heart.
“They’re not worth it,” he whispered, his words filled with a quiet, unwavering conviction. “Don’t let them steal your strength, Malinda. Your father wouldn’t want this.”
The words wrapped around me, easing the sharp, biting edge of my pain, and slowly, I felt my wolf retreat, the anger pulling back into a simmering ache. I lifted my gaze to his, my vision blurred with unshed tears, the rage receding but replaced with a deep, aching sorrow. “He’s gone, Damon,” I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.
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“He‘ s… gone.”
Damon’s hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. His gaze held mine, steady, filled with a strength and love that cut through the despair. “I know, my love,” he murmured, his voice. tender, unbreakable. “But you are his legacy. His strength lives on in you.”
I closed my eyes, letting his words settle around me, a small comfort in the vast emptiness left behind. The pain was still there, raw and throbbing, but with Damon. by my side, it felt a little less suffocating, a little more bearable. I took a deep,
shuddering breath, feeling the weight of his arms around me, holding me together as my world shattered into pieces.
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