Chapter 102
Summer’s POV
The day we cremated Felix was the coldest I’d ever felt, despite the sun shining mockingly bright above
- us.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Alexander asked as he helped me from the car, his hand steady at my elbow. We stood before the crematorium, a tasteful stone building that seemed too peaceful for the violence of what would happen inside.
“I’ll never be ready,” I whispered. “But he deserves a proper goodbye.”
Alexander gave a small nod, and together, we stepped inside.
I stood motionless as flames consumed my baby’s body. I couldn’t cry anymore. The tears had run dry days ago, leaving nothing but a hollow ache where my heart used to be.
“It’s almost over, sweetheart,” Alexander murmured, his voice rough with his own grief.
I nodded, unable to speak. Felix’s body–so small in death–disappeared into the flames. How could someone so vibrant, so full of life and mischief, be reduced to ashes?
Later, when the technician handed me the simple silver urn containing my son’s remains, I clutched it to my chest like I once held him as a newborn. How fitting that he should return to me this way–cradled against my heart where he belonged.
“He’s really gone,” I murmured, staring down at the container that now held all that remained of my beautiful boy.
Alexander’s arm wrapped around my shoulders. “Not completely,” he said softly. “Not as long as we
remember him.”
The journey to the Blackwood pack felt endless. I cradled the urn on my lap the entire way, unable to let it go even when we stopped to rest. The pack house loomed ahead of us as we finally arrived – massive, imposing, and filled with strangers who had never met my son. It was so different from the Silver Creek pack, where he had been treated as less than nothing.
“They all know,” Alexander said, seeming to read my thoughts. “They’re here to support you, not to
intrude.”
Despite his reassurance, I hesitated at the entrance. “I don’t know if I can face them all.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he promised. “Everyone understands.”
The funeral ceremony took place in a beautiful clearing within the pack territory’s forest. The pack members stood in respectful silence, forming a circle around an area decorated with blue wildflowers-
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Felix’s favorite color.
I clutched the urn tighter as Alexander guided me to the center of the circle. Ethan approached, his normally cheerful face solemn as he handed Alexander a small wooden box.
“The ceremonial earth from our ancestral grounds,” he explained softly to me. “For when a wolf returns to
the Mother Moon.”
I swallowed hard. Felix had never gotten the chance to shift, never experienced the joy of running with his wolf. Yet here, among strangers, he was being honored as one of their own.
Alexander cleared his throat, addressing the gathered pack. “Today we honor Felix, a brave young warrior taken from us far too soon. Though not born to our pack, he became family–my family.” His voice broke slightly on those last words.
I looked up at Alexander, seeing the genuine grief in his eyes. In just those few precious weeks, he had truly come to love Felix as his own.
“Felix had the heart of an Alpha,” Alexander continued. “Courageous, kind, and stronger than anyone
should have to be.” He turned to me. “Summer, would you like to say anything?”
The silence hung heavy as I stepped forward. The urn felt impossibly heavy now.
“My son,” I began, my voice barely audible before gaining strength, “lived more life in his short years than many do in decades. He endured pain that would break grown wolves, yet never lost his capacity for joy
or love.”
Tears streamed freely down my face now.
“He should be here. Planning mischief, asking too many questions, demanding another bedtime story.” A
sob caught in my throat. “He should be here.”
Alexander’s warm hand found mine, steadying me.
“But Felix isn’t gone completely,” I continued, gathering my strength. “He lives in our memories, in our
hearts. And I swear by the Moon Goddess, his death will not be in vain.”
With trembling hands, I knelt and opened the urn. Alexander knelt beside me with the box of ceremonial earth. Together, we combined my son’s ashes with the sacred soil, while the pack members began a low, mournful howl that built until it seemed to shake the very trees around us.
After the ceremony, we scattered some of Felix’s ashes among the wildflowers in the clearing, keeping the rest in the urn that would find a permanent place in my new home.
The reception afterward was a quiet affair. Pack members came to offer condolences, many leaving small tokens – carved wolves, children’s drawings, smooth river stones – on a memorial table. I received their kindness like a woman underwater, everything muffled and distant.
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“You should rest,” Alexander murmured after the last guests had gone. “You’re exhausted.”
I shook my head. “There’s something I need to do first.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Summer?”
“Take me to the holding cells,” I said, my voice steady for the first time in days. “I need to see them.”
Alexander hesitated. “Are you sure that’s wise? You’ve been through enough today.”
“I need to look in their eyes,” I insisted. “I need to see the people who took my son from me.”
After a long moment, he nodded. “They’re in separate cells. Ethan’s been interrogating them, but neither
has broken yet.”
“I don’t expect them to confess,” I said coldly. “I just need to see them.”
He studied my face for a long moment before nodding. “Follow me.‘
The Blackwood Pack’s holding cells were nothing like I expected. Rather than dank, underground chambers, they were secure rooms in a separate building – sparse but clean, with basic amenities.
“We’re not barbarians,” Alexander said, noticing my surprise. “Even prisoners deserve humane treatment.”
“Some don’t,” I replied coldly.
He didn’t argue as he led me down a hallway to a heavy door with a small observation window.“She’s in
here. I’ll be right outside.”
“I’m going in alone.”
Alexander stepped in front of the door, blocking my path. His jaw was tight. “I don’t think that’s a good
idea.”
I met his gaze, steady and unblinking. “I wasn’t asking what you think.”
He didn’t move. But his voice lowered. “You’re not ready.”
I tilted my head slightly. “I’m exactly ready.”
A long pause stretched between us. Then, finally, he stepped aside.
“Five minutes,” he said. “And I’ll be watching.”
The lock clicked. The door creaked open.
I walked in without hesitation–and the moment I saw her, the rage I’d kept buried surged like fire under
my skin.
Suzanna sat in the corner of the cell, her wrists bruised, her lip split, and her once–sleek hair now a
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tangled mess. She looked up at me slowly, eyes swollen from crying–or maybe from whatever she’d been through since her arrest.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I stepped forward, my voice low but razor–sharp.
“Who gave you the drug?”
She blinked. “What?”
“The one you used to knock out the guards in Felix’s hospital room.” I took another step closer. “Where
did it come from?”
Suzanna’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked away.
“You’re not smart enough to come up with that on your own,” I continued. “So who helped you?”
