MIRABEL POV.
I stood between Damian, Owen, and Noah, all dressed in black, their faces blank behind dark sunglasses. Their emotions were buried deep, hidden away from the eyes of the pack. No one could see the pain they carried, but I could feel it. The nature of their mother’s death had been carefully hidden. The triplets had seen to that. They didn’t want whispers spreading, didn’t want the pack questioning what had really happened. As far as everyone else knew, the Luna had passed in her sleep—peaceful, undisturbed—a tragedy, but not one that needed further scrutiny.
None of them had spoken much since she died. Not to each other. Not to me.
And I still hadn’t found the right moment to tell them about the necklace she had given me before she… before she took her own life.
Each pack m
