Chapter 36
Silent tears slipped through her fingers, soaking the edge of her sleeves as she shook with quiet sobs.
The loss felt like a constant ache in her chest, a hollow emptiness that no words could fill. Her father’s laughter, his strength, his fierce loyalty to his family and his pack–it was all gone, ripped away in one night. She kept replaying the image of his body lying still on the ground, his life stolen too soon. She would never hear his voice again, never feel the warmth of his embrace or hear the quiet reassurance of his presence by her side.
And her mother, Isabel, was nearly as broken. Marissa glanced at her through her blurred vision. Isabel sat on the ground. near the packhouse steps, her gaze fixed on some distant point, her eyes glazed with sorrow, her movements slow and listless. She hadn’t spoken much since that night,
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her spirit hollowed out, her once–strong energy dimmed to a mere flicker. The vibrance in her mother‘ s eyes had been extinguished, replaced by a deep, haunting. sadness that mirrored Marissa‘ s own.
“Mom…” Marissa whispered, her voice hoarse as she reached out, placing a gentle hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Please, just… just say something.”
Isabel looked at her daughter, the faintest trace of recognition crossing her face before her gaze drifted away again. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was barely a whisper. “I see him everywhere, Marissa,” she said, her voice breaking. “I close my eyes, and I hear him. I hear his voice… telling me that everything will be alright. But it’s not. Nothing is alright.”
Marissa’s heart shattered as she looked at
her mother, feeling the weight of her grief pressing down on her like an iron vice. She had never seen her mother so broken, so utterly devoid of hope. She wanted to find
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the right words, to offer comfort, but there was none to be found. Her own grief was a raw, open wound, too fresh to mend, and she felt powerless to heal either of their broken hearts.
As the night deepened, a quiet, familiar presence approached from behind. She felt the warmth of Idris‘ s arms wrap around her shoulders, steadying her, grounding her as he held her close. She leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his strength, his silent promise that she was not alone.
“Marissa,” Idris murmured, his voice low and comforting, his breath warm against her ear. “I’ve started the plan.”
She looked up, blinking through her tears, meeting his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “What… what plan?”
Idris‘ s expression hardened, a fierce. determination in his eyes as he explained. “We’re going to end this, Marissa. I’ll make sure the Rogue King pays for what
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he’s done–to your father, to our packs, to everyone he’s hurt. I’ve set a trap, and soon he’ll walk right into it.”
Marissa’s heart quickened, a surge of hope cutting through her grief as she listened to him. She could see the resolve
in his eyes, the steely focus of a leader who would stop at nothing to protect his family, his people.
“How…?” she whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched his arm, desperate for details.
Idris’s grip on her shoulders tightened, his voice a steady, calming presence as he spoke. “I’ve had my wolf warriors spread. rumors about the upcoming Moon Goddess Ceremony,” he explained. “We’ve made it known that it will be held at the top of
the northern mountain, that only the weakest pack members will remain behind. at the Moonlight Pack.”
Marissa’s eyes widened, her mind racing as she realized the implications.
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“But… the ceremony,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “Are we really going to hold it there?”
A faint, grim smile tugged at the corner of Idris‘ s mouth. “There is no ceremony, Marissa. That’s the trap. We‘ ve made it look as though we‘ re vulnerable, but in reality, the strongest wolves from every pack under my rule will be lying in wait.”
Marissa’s breath caught in her throat as the weight of his words settled over her. She could feel the faintest glimmer of hope flickering to life in her heart, a fragile thing she hadn’t dared to feel since her father’s death. The image of the Rogue King, smug and cruel, taunting her father’s dying form, flashed through her mind, reigniting the fury she had buried beneath her sorrow.
“And when they come?” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she clenched her fists, the anger swelling within her.
“What happens then?”
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Idris’s gaze was steady, unwavering as he looked at her, his voice low and filled with a dark promise. “They will be surrounded by the strongest warriors from every corner of the land,” he said, his tone unyielding. “They’ll find themselves trapped, with nowhere to run. This time, we will finish them all. There will be no
escape.”
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