novelraw Chapter 117: Her funeral
Chapter 117: Her funeral
Leo’s POV
The morning air was cold, biting at my skin as if the world itself were trying to wake me up from this nightmare. But there was no waking up.
I stood at the edge of the pack’s ceremonial grounds, staring at the sea of black. Hundreds of people had gathered, their heads bowed, some even wiping away fake tears. I felt a surge of pure disgust. I looked at the crowd—the same people who had whispered behind Scarlett’s back, the same people who had treated her like an outsider for two years because we had led the way. Now, they stood here pretending to be in pain.
They had no right to be here. They had no right to look like they cared when they had helped make her life a living hell.
I looked at Liam and Leon standing beside me. We had refused to wear the black mourning clothes our father had laid out for us. We stood in our usual dark tactical gear, our faces like stone. We weren’t mourning because, in our hearts, we were still fighting the truth.
The priest began the incantations, his voice droning on about spirits and the afterworld. On a pedestal sat the items they had recovered from the woods—the silver necklace Scarlett always wore around her neck and that horrific, blood-soaked bag of scattered flesh. They placed them into a fancy, polished coffin. But it was light. Too light. Like she was never inside it at all.
As they lowered the box into the dark earth, my breath hitched. I stared at the pictures placed at each corner of the field. They were beautiful photos of her—taken during the few moments she was really happy. In every one, she was smiling that big, radiant smile. It was a picture of my Scarlett when she was actually Scarlett, before we broke her.
Then, suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stand the sight of the dirt hitting the casket. I turned on my heel and walked away, ignoring the gasps and whispers of the pack members. I didn’t care about protocol anymore. I didn’t care about being an Alpha.
I reached my room and slammed the door, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. My hands were shaking as I grabbed a half-empty bottle of whiskey from my nightstand. I didn’t bother with a glass. The liquid was harsh and burned my throat, but I welcomed the pain. It was the only thing that felt real.
Tears finally spilled over, hot and fast. I shook my head, gripping the bottle.
"No," I whispered to the empty room. "I refuse to believe it."
I refused to believe she was gone. Yes, all the proof was there. The silence in my chest where our bond used to hum was deafening. The scattered flesh, the Seers’ words, the blood in the ravine—it all pointed to death. But something deep in my soul, something buried under the grief, refused to accept it.
The door pushed open. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Liam and Leon walked in, their footsteps heavy. They didn’t say anything at first; they just reached for the bottle, each taking a long, hard gulp before sitting on the edge of my bed.
"I sent a spy to follow Ethan," Liam said suddenly, his voice low and hollow.
I looked up at him, my eyes stinging. We were all thinking it. Despite the proof of Scarlett’s death, we were desperate for a lie. We wanted to believe Ethan had taken her, that he had staged the whole thing just to take her away from us. We wanted it to be true because if it were, it meant Scarlett was still alive.
"And?" I asked.
Liam sighed, staring at the floor. "They found nothing. Ethan is back at the Obsidian pack. He’s been seen at his packhouse. There’s no sign of her. Nothing."
The small spark of hope I had been clutching died a cold death. We were Alphas, trained to find any enemy, yet we were searching for a ghost. We wanted anything to make us believe she wasn’t dead, even though we had just watched her remains be buried.
"What now?" Leon asked, his voice sounding smaller than I had ever heard it.
The room fell into a long, suffocating silence. I didn’t know what was next. I couldn’t even imagine a tomorrow. Almost my entire life had been lived with Scarlett in it—whether I was loving her in secret or hurting her in public, she was the center of my world.
Without her, the world was just a dark, quiet room, and I was a broken man drinking myself into a grave of my own.
"I don’t know," I whispered, taking the bottle back. "I don’t know how to live in a world where she doesn’t exist."
The silence was interrupted by the heavy, synchronized footsteps of the men who raised us. Our fathers walked in, their faces tight and formal, their suits still sharp and untouched by the dirt of the grave. They looked at us—three Alphas slumped on a bed, smelling of whiskey and failure—and I saw the disappointment in their eyes.
"The mourning period is three days," Father Lennox said, his voice ringing with a cold authority that made my skin crawl. "After that, the black comes off. You will resume your duties as Alphas. The pack needs to see strength, not this."
None of us said a word. Liam didn’t look up, and Leon just gripped the edge of the mattress. But then, a thought—wild, pained, and desperate—screamed in my brain. I looked up, my eyes bloodshot as I glared at the three men standing in the doorway.
Their voices were calm. Too calm.
Like she meant nothing.
Like she was already forgotten.
That’s when something snapped in me.
"You three killed her, right?" I accused.
The air in the room seemed to freeze. Their eyes widened, a flicker of shock passing through them before turning into hardened anger. I knew it was a ridiculous thing to say. I knew I sounded like a madman. But I was drowning, and I needed someone to blame who wasn’t just "the rogues."
"You three killed her," I repeated, my voice getting louder, more accusatory.
"Watch your mouth, boy!" Father Lennox yelled, his presence filling the room. "Don’t be silly. Why would I kill Scarlett? She was the daughter of my friend. Use your head!"
He was right. Logically, I knew he had no reason to go as far as killing her. But logic had died the moment my Scarlett was gone. I was just confused, lashing out at anything that moved.
Father Levi stepped forward, his expression softening just a little, but his words were like salt in an open wound. "We know you boys are in pain. We get it. But stop this silly act. She is gone, and you men must buckle up. When your mother died—who was our mate—we buckled up. We didn’t let the pack fall. And Scarlett wasn’t even your mate."
The words felt like a slap to the face. I glared at him, the truth clawing at the back of my throat, screaming to be let out. She was! She was my mate! My soul is literally tearing in half because she’s gone! I wanted to spit it in his face. I wanted to tell him that I had been a coward—that I didn’t say it when she was alive and here, and now I was cursed to keep it a secret while she rotted in the ground.
But I didn’t say it. I couldn’t. Instead, I stood up, the bottle nearly slipping from my hand as I moved toward the door.
"What I feel for Scarlett..." I whispered, my voice trembling with a rage so deep it surpassed anything I’d felt for my father before. "My relationship with her... it’s nothing you can compare to what you felt for Mother. You have no idea what I have lost."
I didn’t wait for their response. I pushed past them, not caring if I was being disrespectful, and walked away.