Zephyr knelt beside Sylvia's body, his hands wrapped firmly around hers. Even in her last moments she seemed brave.
Her eyes gleamed brightly. The same familiar stare that had melted his heart on the first day they met.
“I have no regrets Zephyr, except two,” Sylvia started, her voice faint, and her gaze fixed on him.
“What are they?” Zephyr asked in a sober voice.
“The first is never experiencing what it feels like to be a werewolf. And the secondly is not getting to spend more time with you,” she answered.
The weight of her words twisted the knife in his chest.
“I've spent eighteen years with my family, with a few friends, and those were beautiful moments. Irreplaceable,” she continued.
A brief smile glinted in her face before the pain took over.
She coughed and Zephyr wrapped
