Turning to the Healer, Brexon’s eyes glimmered with frost. “Begin the bond. Save him.”
A strangled cry tore from my throat. “Brexon—”
He didn’t look at me. Not once.
The healers moved quickly, their hands glowing with silver Moonlight as they prepared the transfusion. Pack guardians flanked the clearing, silent, eyes unreadable, watching the legendary Alpha of the Silvermoon Howlers make his choice: not his daughter, not our daughter.
I pressed my forehead against Nyra’s, tears soaking into her frost-cold fur. “Don’t worry, little moonbeam,” I whispered. “I won’t leave you.”
She didn’t stir. Her paws slipped from my hands, limp and fragile.
Then—nothing.
The world lurched, a dizzying drop. I must have screamed, because rough hands were suddenly on me, pulling her away.
“Where are you taking her? No!” I thrashed, my voice raw and feral, clawing at the air.
Brexon didn’t intervene.
He stood firm, one hand resting over Orrin’s shoulder, while my entire world splintered apart.
In that moment, something inside me shattered. I would never forgive him. Not in this life, not in the next.
Not under any moon the Goddess hung above us.
***
The burial was private.
Rain fell like a gentle curse, soaking through my mourning cloak, but I barely noticed. I lingered at the edge of the earth, watching the rune-inscribed coffin descend, the final resting place of our daughter. My tears had long dried; my heart felt hollow, a cave of nothing but fury and grief.
Brexon remained a few paces away. Warriors forming a silent barrier around him, unyielding and unfeeling. Not once has he spoken to me since that night. Not like I care. He had made his choice. And now, our pup was gone.
The pack priest murmured blessings, spoke of the Moon’s guidance, of reunion beyond life, but there was no solace, no plan. Only emptiness where Nyra had been.
Then Brexon moved.
A crystal communicator glowed at his ear; his face was cold iron. Moments later, he turned and walked away. He didn’t stay for the rites. He didn’t watch the last shovelful of earth cover his daughter.
It was pretty obvious. Lyssa called him, and he went—like a fool.
A bitter laugh escaped my throat, but I swallowed it. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms.
The Alpha of the Silvermoon had abandoned his daughter’s final rite because Lyssa summoned him. I should have screamed, demanded he stay, but I was too broken.