I didn’t sleep after Kyle left.
The hall was quiet. Too quiet. No hammers now. Wolves finished the shelter frame at midnight. “For Alpha Selena” they whispered when they passed my door. Like I was a prayer.
The title still didn’t fit. Coat too big. Shoulders too small.
I sat on the bed with Bella’s ash box in my lap. Leather cord wrapped around my fingers. Her name scratched into the wood with my knife the night she died.
“You’d laugh at this,” I told the box. “All these wolves building instead of bleeding. Too soft, Bella.”
The box didn’t answer. It never did.
A soft knock. Not Damien’s. His was heavy. This was hesitant.
“Alpha?” Old voice. Marta, the healer. She didn’t wait for me to say come in. Door creaked open anyway. She carried a clay bowl. Steam rose. Herbs. Bitter smell.
