Everly POV

There are no winners in a war. Either way, somebody loses, and even the winners lose.

They lose friends, family, humanity, and themselves. We won the battle, but no one wins the war because no one walks away unscaffed after witnessing such carnage, such loss, and it always ends in grief.

Grief shows you how valuable life is but also how cruel life is. It shows you the darkness of losing someone. Then it shows you the light in appreciating others more. You realize how precious life is but also how short life can be.

You learn how torturous it can be when you lose someone you couldn’t imagine living without, but somehow you do.

Somehow, you’re still breathing even when the pain of grief is so intense you believe it will kill you and sometimes wish it would, just so you don’t have to know the pain of losing them.

Standing in this hall with hundreds of peering faces staring back at us, you could see their grief as if they wore it like armor, as if it was branded into their very being like a tattoo, screaming their anguish.

You could hear their gut wrenching screams as they realized the pain they were feeling wasn’t hurt loved ones but broken bonds, and broken families, broken.

Nothing will kill your soul more than losing a loved one.

Nothing will break you down more than realizing you will never hold them again, never hear their voices, never see them.

1 We stood on a podium while Valen called out the names of loved ones, needing them to come forward to claim their dead sons, dead mates, and dead parents, and while trying to mask my own grief, I witnessed theirs, felt theirs with each broken tether.

How Valen called out the names, it was almost as if he was desensitized to death, expressionless.

Yet, through the bond, I knew he was barely holding it together as their screams and pain rippled through him like a stone tossed in the lake, that rippling tide on repeat, and I don’t know how he bared it as he tried to keep the bond blocked, though those that sifted through I felt, felt him, felt them.

We won the battle, but we lost too. One hundred seventy-six lives were lost, Ninety-one bonds are broken, meaning a possible Ninety-one more lives to wither away until either they die slowly or their bond does.

Most of those deaths were men,  she-wolves rarely lived without their mates.

Yet seeing my father sitting vacantly ahead, I knew he wished it killed him.

the names, and we heard their cries. It felt surreal, like a nightmare, a loop of

father’s house when the attack

hands for their own suicide, half

their death, we were left with their true identities. He killed his

and a pack for their sacrifice. A sacrifice that ended in their deaths. Some thought it was worth the

the city, leaving behind his son in a

by his father’s plans, that he had nothing to do with it

money and took every cent the pack had before running away like a coward leaving behind his mate, his son, and killing Carter’s sister.

to describe what he had done to this city, to his own people and his

blood samples to the Slasher pack and Valen’s pack for tontina Castor

for the incurable. He was planning on infecting the world and then

by the car

gives a swift nod before I make my way over to them. Valarian and the girls were sitting in the back of the car with the heating going as the night turned terribly cold, cold-like emptiness we all felt.I look at them, checking on them before leaning against the hood next to

him,” Kalen says,

gone in for surgery to try to save his leg,” Zoe whispers to

was bitten, wasn’t she?”. Zoe

isn’t infected. She called me before her blood tests came back clear, however, Tatum is riddled with

she nods toward him, where he is walking over to Valen, who is still talking

are infected. Hopefully, Carter’s blood really is the cure that’s

you seen Ava?” I

gave her your spare house

wanted to stay with us the night. Dad too, was staying at our place, not wanting to go home without mum. We waited. Neither of us

the aftermath, and I didn’t know the first thing about dealing with the werewolf council or what we do from

Marcus. He rubs his hands up my arms. His touch was warm,

It is too

did our

apparently pretty drunk by

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255