The Luna They Tried to Bury Came Back

My son Evander died in my arms.

He was seven. Sweet. Sickly. A pup born with a weak wolf. He used to call himself “Daddy’s little knight.”

But when he needed his father most, Viktor was too busy hosting a moon feast… for another she-wolf’s son.

I mindlinked from the healer’s den.

His voice turned cold.

“Don’t interrupt us. Elowen, if you let your jealousy spiral again, I swear I’ll reject you.”

So I stayed with Evander alone.

I held his hand as it turned cold. Sang pack lullabies and whispered, “It’s okay to go now, baby,” as I felt his last breath leave him.