âShe wouldnât have. You wouldnât have done that, right Ari?â Hamilton looks at me, his hazel eyes clouded with the unacceptance of what I just told them.
But I know what Iâve done, and I know it is hurting them as much as it hurts me.
I shake my head, then stop once I realise what Iâm doing. Words are stuck somewhere between my mind and heart, my throat squeezing the lies from them.
âTell us again exactly what you did,â Malachi pins his unrelenting gaze on me. A gaze I can normally hold onto for strength, knowing it can pull me from the depths of his darkness. But now, it washes over me in depthless waves of disbelief.
âA couple rogues wanted to know where you were. They kept trying to make me say, but I didnât know exactly and wouldnât tell them. Then they started torturing Aunt Chesca. They had her tied down in chains and injected silver into her bloodstream. Her baby wouldâve been killed, so I just said you were at the Justice Pack. I didnât think theyâd actually find you! But I knew you could protect yourselfââ
âYou told them.â Malachi states. Clarifying the horrible truth of my words.
âI didnât want to. I didnât care if they hurt me so I would never have given them what they wanted. But as soon as they started cutting Chesca with a knifeâ¦â Even my own words sound pathetic in my ears, despite knowing I would do the same again if the night played over. I shrink under the heavy stares of the men around me, their disgust for me evident in their cool eyes.
They hate me. For so long Iâve been working to gain their trust, yet now it feels like in one night Iâve ruined all hope of ever being trusted.
Hamilton looks at me with lips pressed tightly together and brows scrunched up, and the sadness and disappointment in his eyes makes me want to run into an oblivion and bury myself ten feet under.
Blinking back tears, I whisper, âMalachi?â I turn to him and take his hand, willing him to understand what I feel for him. âI knew you could take care of yourself.â In the back of my mind, in some twisted way, I probably thought that a group of wild rogues would be no match for the dark beast lurking under Malachiâs skin.
Is that it? I sent them to Malachi hoping heâd tear them to shreds and give them what they deserved?
He doesnât reply. For a moment, I watch a few emotions briefly cross his face, darkening his eyes that refuse to meet mine. He clenches his jaw and his throat convulses as he swallows hard, then he looks at me.
His face is now void of all emotions. This expressionless mask he wears is cutting me deeper than any anger or rage I expected from him. Harsh words being flung at me is what I deserve, yet this cold silence is breaking me so much more.
It is deafening, screaming louder in my mind than an entire chorus of haters.
âThen it seems we know where your loyalty lies.â He tears his eyes from mine and turns his back to me.
âMalachi, itâs not like that! I care about youââ
âJust leave.â He pulls away when I lay my hand on his arm. âI have my men to care for,â he murmurs in a tone of finality.
My feet take involuntary steps back. His quiet rejection slams into me and pushes me with a force I not only feel, but see. The darkness emitting from his hunched shoulders, the despondency permeating the air around him and his wounded warriorsâ it makes me want to hold on and never let him go, but at the same time give him the space he is demanding from me.
I messed up.
I may have ruined the chance we had for us.
âAriella, come on. Iâll help you get cleaned up.â Knight wraps his arm around my shoulders, effectively stilling the sobs that wrack my body. I am shaking, but he guides me through the clinic, shielding me from the cold stares of those lingering in the foyer.
âThereâs nothing else you could have done,â he tells me later as he wipes the blood from my face. Throwing the cloth in the laundry tub, he grabs another and dabs antiseptic on my scratches.
âThen why do I feel like I failed? I failed everyone tonight,â I squeeze my eyes shut against the sting.
âNo, you didnât. From what I hear, Alpha Chesca had a healthy baby and theyâre both alive because of what you did for them. It was an impossible situation. The rogues wouldnât have let you walk away alive.â
âIt wasnât just rogues.â Fresh tears fill my eyes but I blink them away, trying to forget the horrible memories that replay over and over. âSome guy called Caleb from her pack was there, wanting revenge for something she did to him years ago.â
Knightâs hand pauses as he puts a plaster over the deep cuts on my neck. Then he firmly presses the last one on and wipes the area clean. âDid you see what he looked like? Maybe we could go after him.â
âNo, he was behind the wall. But Iâm almost glad I didnât see the monster. I canât remember him at all from being in my pack years ago, but it makes me wonder what kind of psycho would hurt a pregnant woman like that?â
Knight releases a breath. âI canât imagine. But pain makes some wolves do disgusting things. Usually the most horrible crimes are fueled by past hates. We all feel it to some extent, but those who lose control eventually act out from the bitterness they feel inside.â
I shudder at the truth of his words. Iâd seen it tonight, and Iâd experienced it too many times in my life. When would these senseless attacks cease? When would we learn to respect and care for each other despite our differences?
After having a long, hot shower, I dress in my warmest pyjamas and head back downstairs. I can hear Knight rummaging in the kitchen, and find him eating leftovers from dinner.
âYou want some?â he offers when I slide into the seat at the bench.
âNo thanks. Iâm not hungry.â In truth, I still feel sick about what happened, and I donât think Iâll regain my appetite any time soon.
âStress makes me hungry. Weird, I know,â Knight says, as if he needs to explain himself. Then he tilts his head and looks at me carefully. âGirl, you look beat. Why donât you head up to bed?â
I shake my head and rub at the creases on my forehead. âI am so tired, but I donât think Iâd be able to sleep. I keep seeingâ¦â I rest my elbows on the bench top and bury my face in my hands. âSo many horrible things. I canât get them out of my head.â
Instantly Knight comes around to me and slings his arm over my shoulders. âThen letâs watch something distracting.â After guiding me to the living room, we settle on the couch and he flips on the tv. He finds a nature documentary and I watch the screen absently as images of colourful birds, plants, and beautiful scenery replace the horrors in my mindâs eye.
âYou know Iâm sorry about tonight, Kiddo,â Knight pulls me closer and places a kiss on top of my head. The action reminds me of my dad and gives me a small piece of comfort. âI shouldâve protected you instead of letting those filthy rogues abduct you like they did.â
I look up at him and scrunch my brows as something occurs to me. âThanks, but...if they hadnât taken me, Alpha Chesca wouldâve been by herself, and her story would have had a very different ending tonight.â
âStill,â a muscle in his jaw tightens as he stares off seriously into space. âI once swore Iâd slay a thousand rogues to protect you. But I couldnât even save you from four. Just because tonight had a good outcome, doesnât excuse my inability to protect you. I failed you, Ariella, my Luna.â He looks into my eyes with such contriteness that I canât help but forgive him.
I smile a sad smile. âThen it seems we have something else in common.â My mind goes back to the body on the stretcher under the sheet. I donât even know his name, but I do know his death is on me.
I failed him.
And I deserve this rift between my mate and I. I deserve to pay the cost of my decisions, no matter how impossible they may have been at the time.
I awake the next morning in my bed, the space beside me cold and empty. I expected nothing less from the man I betrayed.
But I find him in the kitchen having some breakfast when I head down soon after waking. He looks at me with an unreadable expression, one that I should be used to seeing by now but still it hurts me in ways I canât explain.
âThis morning, weâre commemorating the guard who was killed last night. I donât expect youâd want to attend the ceremony,â he tells me flatly.
âOf course I do,â I breathe into the stillness between us. âI feel terrible about what happened and the least I can do now is pay my respects for what he did. He died for this pack, and Iââ
âThatâs enough, Ariella,â Malachi cuts me off coldly then leaves the house quickly, his sharp tone ringing in my ears.
So with a detached sense of obligation, I prepare myself for the ceremony, dressing in black and finding some heels in my small collection of shoes. Pausing by my pots of flowering plants that sit by the back door, I pluck the first bloom of adenium before I slowly make my way over to the town square. This is the place where I attended Archieâs commemoration not too many weeks ago, and as I walk, I go over in my mind how this is going to play out. I need to be prepared for the dark looks I will receive, the ugly attitudes everyone will have towards me after last night.
I try and remember the good Iâd done, how I saved Chesca and her baby. But the reality keeps pricking my conscience. The reality that someone is dead because of me. I push the guilt aside and tell myself to deal with it as I enter the square and catch the attention of the gathered wolves. I can handle this.
However, Iâm not prepared for the absolute disrespect that oozes from them towards me. It takes all my strength to keep my head up and my shoulders back as I walk straight to the front, to Alpha Malachi and Beta Hamilton as they wait beside the stage. They are dressed in black suits, with polished shoes and somber gazes. In many ways my old pack and DoubleEdge are similar--honouring those fallen with ceremonies to remember their sacrifice. But while ForgedHearts is warm and filled with raw emotion, this pack is formal and holds itself distant from the grief they undoubtedly feel.
âWhatâs she doing here?â One of the injured warriors from last night asks, his eyes flashing with anger. Malachi and Hamilton trade glances and fist their hands by their side.
âIâm here to show how sorry I am for what happened,â I tell them, praying theyâll allow me to stay.
âBut youâre not sorry for what you did. Is that it? You think you can just show up and pretend like none of this is your fault?â
âJett, knock it off,â Hamilton takes his arm and gives him a hard glare.
I donât know whether to feel relieved that Hamilton would stand up for me.
âShe probably just wants to ease her guilt,â the Beta looks at me with the same dark look he just gave his warrior.
So much for standing up for me. I cringe inside but donât back down. âPlease. You have to believe I never wanted any of this to happen. I just--â
âTell that to him,â Jett points a finger at the veil-covered body on top of the pyre. âSee if he will accept your apology. Oh wait, he canât. Heâs dead.â
âGuys, we donât have time for this,â Malachi shuts us down with a harsh whisper as he straightens his jacket and readies himself to go up on stage. âJust let her do what she wants. She wonât listen to you anyway if you try to tell her otherwise.â
His words sting, but my heart has a shell over it now. A hard, protective exterior that is doing more to keep it from breaking than shielding it from their insults.
I canât help feeling I deserve them anyway.
Hamilton gives me one more glance, his lips pressed tight together, before taking up position next to his Alpha. Harlow steps up on his other side, and I am left to hover on the outer after I place my flower upon the stacked logs that form the pyre.
My lips tremble as Malachi recounts to the solemn crowd the events of last night, how they were on their way home when they were surrounded by rogues. He tried everything in his power to diffuse the situation calmly, but when it seemed like a fight was inevitable, he and his men were determined to protect themselves and this pack. The rogues outnumbered them, but the warriors were close to finishing them when one pulled a gun and fired a single silver bullet at Malachi. Before it could pierce him, one of Malachiâs faithful guards threw himself in the bulletâs path.
âToday, we honour the sacrifice given to save my life. In a moment when I was vulnerable, and at the mercy of our enemiesâ¦â Malachiâs voice breaks and I ache to hold his hand in comfort. âWhen I couldâve been killed, he gave his own life in his loyalty to protect this pack. Jasper proved that he is the bravest hero of us all. Today, I give my utmost gratitude and honourâ¦â
Jasper.
The name reaches my ears and I gasp, quickly covering my mouth as the identity of the warrior who had been killed becomes clear to me. âJasper?â I look at the pyre as a tear slides down my cheek. Then the implications of this hit me. âSamson! Oh no...â
My sudden realisation earns me the contemptful glares of those who heard me, but I ignore them and look around among the young pups but canât see him. Why isnât Sammy here for his own fatherâs ceremony? Malachi catches my eye and frowns, a look that questions and rebukes at once. But I shake my head and turn, walking away from the wolves who detest my presence anyway.
As if my guilt couldnât run any deeper, a little boy is now without a father. Heâs probably been taken in by kind neighbours since his dad didnât come last night, but I have to be sure. I hurry down the road that winds through the shops and houses, and make my way to the outer edge of the pack residences. My steps quicken when his house comes into view, and Iâm nearly running by the time I bound up the steps and knock on the door.
No one answers, but that doesnât bring relief like it should. Sammy could be elsewhere, or⦠or he could be inside all by himself. My instinct pushes for the latter, so I shove my shoulder against the door and crack the lock in my hands. It swings open smoothly on the recently oiled hinges, and as I step inside Iâm greeted with a stale smell of burnt food.
âSammy? Are you home?â I call out, and walk carefully through the living room. It looks very much the same as when I first saw it, but neater. Cleaner. As if Jasper had been making an effort to keep this place homely. It tugs on my heart, and I canât help the tear that escapes my eye.
Dashing it away, I step into the kitchen. This is the source of the musty smells, and I see dirty bowls and plates on the benchtop, a few pots on the stove, and food wrappers littered on the table and shelves. âSammy?â
A small sniffling noise catches my ears, and I hurry around the island. âSammy! Oh, my darling boy!â I kneel down in front of the huddled figure in the corner and reach out to him. He looks at me with his wide brown eyes, rimmed in red, and darkened with a pitiful frown.
âI couldnât reach the flour in the pantry. And when I tried to climb up on a chair, I knocked the eggs off the shelf⦠and.. And I tried making pancakes like you showed me, but I couldnât. I made a big mess. Iâm so sorry, Luna.â
âOh, Sammy, donât be sorry,â I gather him into my arms and look around at the broken eggs on the floor, at the bowls on the shelf with dried mix staining them, at the melted butter block on the sink, and the crumbs that cling to Sammyâs clothes.
âI finished all the cereal, but Daddy hasnât come home yet and I didnât have anything else to eat.
âSammy, itâs okay.â I whisper and stroke his hair. No one has come for him and told him about his dad? Theyâve left this little boy alone for a few days since Jasper left, and no one is caring for him? Why didnât I know about this sooner? âEverything is going to be okay.â The empty words are like an acid churning in my stomach.
âHave you heard from my dad? Did he work hard with Alpha? Is he coming home soon?â Sammy turns his innocent eyes to me, and I know I canât tell him anything but the truth.
âSammy, your fatherâ¦. Your father did his job very well for Alpha Malachi. But...he wonât be coming home.â
His eyes widen, and I feel his little body tense up. I rub his arms soothingly and continue. âOn the way back from their journey, there was an attack. By rogues. The rogues tried to kill the Alpha, but your daddy stopped them. He saved the Alphaâs life. He was very brave and loyal, and fought the hardest he could. He gave his own life to protect the Alpha and this pack. He died protecting us all.â
Sammy doesnât cry out or scream that it canât be true. He doesnât jump up and run outside, looking for his father. He just stares calmly at the cabinet doors that I lean against, and nods. I notice his lips tremble and his eyes rim with glistening tears, and my heart breaks for him.
âLike your mummy and daddy. They died saving you from rogues. Now mine did the same too,â he eventually says in a whisper.
I hold him to my chest tighter, not trusting my own voice as a sob rises inside me. âYes. They loved us so much, and didnât want anyone hurting us. You must always remember your dad as a hero. A very strong and brave hero.â
I finally realise that I owe Jasper a debt for saving my mateâs life. In my own guilt and misery, agonising over my own actions last night, I havenât stopped to realise just how close Malachi was to losing his life. Jasper not only saved the Alpha, he saved me too, and our pack.
Sammy and I sit on the kitchen floor for a while longer, each of us dealing with the grief in our own way. When we are ready, I set him on a chair and go about tidying the kitchen.
We make fresh pancakes, and then I decide to put the rest of the house in better order. I put a load of washing on in the machine and then sweep the place, afterwards finding a vacuum to clean the carpet. Sammy helps me, and we open the windows right up to allow fresh air to displace the musty atmosphere inside. We are done by mid-afternoon, and I get an idea.
âWould you like to come to my place for a sleepover?â I canât bear to leave him here all by himself, and it seems that others in the pack arenât concerned for him like they should be.
His eyes light up, a small smile replacing the forlorn expression heâs been wearing all day.
âSure! Let me pack my bag.â He races to his room and in no time is ready to leave with me.
We walk to the Alphaâs estate and pass the town centre, and all that remains of the ceremony are some chairs and scattered flowers, drifting over the paved stones with lingering bits of ash. Sammy looks over the place with an odd expression, perhaps wondering why everyone forgot about him.
This little boy, a forgotten orphan, tightens his grip on my hand and hurries out of the square and down the path that leads to my place.
âThis is gonna be fun!â he grins up at me, his face once more radiant like usual, as we enter the mansion and he sets his bags down in the living room.
âIt sure is. We can watch movies and eat popcorn, and read books or play games and even have midnight snacks,â I catch his infectious grin and force myself to push aside the issues that precipitated Sammy being here. âDo you want to come up to the guest bedroom? You can unpack your pjs and put your books on the bedside table.â
âCanât we sleep in here? Iâve never been to a real sleepover and I want to do it here in the living room like everyone else does,â he asks, and I canât deny him anything.
âOf course we can, Sammy. Maybe even some of your other friends can come too. Would you like me to invite Jarrell and his brother? Iâm sure--â
âWell, look at this.â
I spin around at the steely voice that carves away the excitement from the room like a butcherâs knife. âLuna Seneca. We were just--â
âSo now youâre bringing strays into my home?â
At first I am shocked by her cold words that are devoid of all feeling except ridicule, but then I feel anger bubble up and it spills before I care to stop it. âSammy is an amazing young pup, so I wonât let you call him anything besides. His father just died protecting your son.â
Besides, this is now my home also, I feel like adding.
Seneca steps into the room and I try matching her powerful demeanor, with shoulders back and spine straight. Yet her words will never do anything except cut me down. âHis father just died because you betrayed my son.â
I shouldâve known sheâd hate me more than anything now. After our good conversations the last few days, I thought we were bonding, growing closer. Evidently not.
But I canât argue with the truth of her words. All I can do is stand my ground and refuse to turn Sammy out. I will comfort this boy who has lost everything, no matter how much it costs me.
Seneca eventually turns to go, sliding her obsidian gaze from me to Sammy who stands behind me warily.
There is nothing you can ever do to make up for this, she whispers into my mind, and I shiver.
She leaves the room chilled and with a heavy presence that lingers, but I purpose to put the smile back on Sammyâs sorrowful face.
âDonât mind her. I know sheâs your Luna and we should respect her for that, but sheâs also sad about some things. Letâs hope she feels better by tomorrow, hey?â I ruffle his hair and tickle his ribs.
âOkay,â he laughs.
âNow letâs go choose some dvds and make that popcorn. Iâll ring Devanshi and see if her brothers want to join us for a movie night.â
The rest of the afternoon and evening go well, and the fun activities turn out to be an even better idea than I first planned. They distract all of us from the sad events of the last twenty four hours, and itâs only when the others have gone home and Iâm tucking Sammy into his makeshift bed on the floor of the living room, that I hear the front door open and the anxiety creeps back in.
I go to the foyer and quietly watch as Malachi comes in and closes the door behind him. He stands there for a moment, and I watch his shoulders deflate as he sighs before he turns and notices Iâm here.
âAriella.â
âMalachi.â My throat is suddenly dry, heart hammering against my ribs.
He tilts his head. âYou have company?â The way his eyebrow lifts is a cue as to what heâs thinking. That perhaps I am betraying him again.
âJasperâs son, Sammy, had no one to take care of him. I thought he could stay here with us for a while until we sort things out.â
He follows me to the living room, and watches the little orphaned pup sleeping on the floor with a contented smile on his face.
Without a word, Malachi just stands in the doorway and I wish with all my heart I knew what he was thinking. I feel like screaming at this wall between us, demanding it crumble and allow us to feel again. To feel the bond that should be pulling us together, despite everything around us tearing us apart.
Malachi turns to me, his eyes sliding from mine to my lips and down to my neck. A frown crinkles his brow, and he lifts his hand tentatively.
Sparks cascade across my skin as his fingers brush over my throat, the plasters that cover the wounds.
I know that red claw marks are still visible on my skin, and I watch as Malachiâs eyes fill with regret and something else. Something darker. The emotion should be familiar, but this is different. A little rougher and angsty, more intimate and personal. The light touch of his fingers on my skin tell me many things.
An apology. A promise. Revenge against those who did this to me.
A shiver overtakes me at the quiet strength this Alpha male projects. I shudder as my thoughts wander to all the things he could be planning right now.
Then he drops his hand and looks away, breaking our momentary connection, and I see a mask of indifference steal over his face once more.
âSamson can stay, but only until we find a family to adopt him,â Malachi finally says, and my heart breathes a sigh of relief.
âThank you. I knew youâd understand.â
But I spoke too soon. For when he turns to me again, Malachiâs deep blue eyes are cold, filled with a touch of contempt. âLooks like you had fun tonight. Youâre caring for him like a true Luna would. But I want to ask you something.
Arenât you going to tell him the truth about his father? That itâs because of you he was killed?â