DAMIAN POV.
The funeral was over, but the weight of it still clung to me like a second skin. Our mother was gone. I kept telling myself it was real, that she wasn’t coming back, but I couldn’t accept it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Owen and Noah walked beside me as we left the gravesite, the three of us moving as one. We had always been that way—connected. But now, there was a gap between us, a silence where our mother’s presence should have been.
“I will be right back,” I muttered to Mirabel before leaving for the packhouse, my voice rough. She nodded, concern flickering in her eyes, but I did not stop.
I went straight to my office, shutting the door behind me, and exhaled slowly, trying to settle the war inside me. The pack doctor was already there, sitting stiffly in one of the chairs
