I fell silent.
๐€โถล๏ฝแปืฉ๏ผฅ๐๏ฝ.ฤ๐๐ช
Carlos had a point. I wasn’t the only one hurting, and I sure wasn’t the worst off. I couldn’t fall apart. My duty was to shield my family, friends, and all our pack members.
Who else would stand against Gale’s assaults?
Who would mend the rift between witches and werewolves?
๊งเผโฌ๐๐ฎ๐ช๐ป๐๐ธ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ต๐ผ.๐๐ธ๐ถโฌเผ๊ง
Keeping my pack safe and steering clear of further disasters was my solemn duty and purpose.
Caleb’s POV:
“I get it.” With clenched teeth, I bore the inner turmoil, striving for peacefulness.
The responsibility for the Thorn Edge Pack’s future and well-being was on my shoulders. I couldn’t let sorrow consume me.
The legacy of the Thorn Edge Pack was long-standing, and I couldn’t be the one to end it.
Drying my eyes, I asked, “Where’s my father now?”
Seeing my regained steadiness, Carlos felt a sense of relief and quickly responded, “He’s in the hospital’s morgue.”
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I bit my lip, fighting the grief, and requested, “Lead the way there.”
Carlos nodded.
He led the way, and I trailed behind, each step weighing me down.
Dark clouds hung low outside, casting a gloomy shadow. The hospital corridors echoed with the groans of the injured and the muffled sobs of their loved ones. The breeze through the window stirred the leaves, creating a rustling sound that resonated with the hospital’s sorrowful chorus, almost as if nature were expressing sympathy.
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The lights in every operating room were always on, and the scent of disinfectant lingered in the air. Now and then, nurses and doctors wheeled beds past us. The patients on these beds had either lost limbs, broken legs, or wounds in their chests.
This was a war.
No one could truly avoid the war.
I followed Carlos to the morgue. The atmosphere here was dark and cold, with no sunlight seeping through.
As I reached the door, a wave of dread washed over me.
I dreaded facing my father’s still form, so different from the lively figure I remembered. I was scared of seeing him lying silent and motionless in that sterile, white hospital bed.
Carlos sensed my reluctance, offering a supportive pat. “Your father thought of you till the end. It’s time for your final farewell. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
My hand tightened into a fist.
Memories of my father flooded in, blurring my vision.
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