Since Lyra’s death, Orion had been absent. He hadn't shown his face at the pack house, hadn't been there to support me or to mourn our daughter. Even as the pack's leader, he had failed to acknowledge the losses suffered by his own wolves.
My wolf, always simmering beneath the surface, growled with a rage that mirrored my own. The thought of him deserving to die rather than Lyra gnawed at me.
Orion, oblivious to the depth of my anguish, replied with an air of self-assurance. “What are you talking about? Of course, I care about Lyra. I may be busy, but everything I do, I do for her. She’s my only daughter. One day, when she’s mated, I’ll give her the grandest gift imaginable. I want her to be proud of having an Alpha as her father.”
His words struck a nerve, igniting a firestorm of emotions within me. “Stop pretending, Orion!” I shouted, unable to contain my fury. “If you truly cared about Lyra, you wouldn’t have abandoned us at the border for Lilith. She was only six years old. Did you ever consider how terrified she was?”
Orion’s patience snapped. His face twisted in anger. “Why do you keep harping on about this? It was a minor issue. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. Why can’t you just let it go?”
As if to punctuate his words, he kicked the urn that lay near the disturbed grave. It tumbled across the ground, spilling its contents—ashes that had once been Lyra—into the dirt.
The sight of her ashes scattering sent me into a state of shock. My mind went blank, and my wolf’s anguished howls filled the void. The grief I felt as I watched Lyra cornered by wolves was nothing compared to the pain of seeing her remains disrespected by her own father. The world around me darkened, and I barely noticed my own transformation. My heart turned black, mirroring the darkening of my wolf’s fur.
A gust of wind whipped through the cemetery, carrying Lyra’s ashes into the air. “No, don’t!” I cried, struggling against the wolf warriors who held me back. I reached out, desperate to grasp the fleeting particles, but they slipped through my fingers, disappearing like my daughter’s life.
"No..."
The last connection to Lyra was gone. I collapsed to the ground, trying to gather what little remained of her from the soil. Tears of despair streamed down my face, each one a silent testament to my overwhelming guilt and pain.