Solara’s pov The night Alpha Lucas died, the moon did not shine.It hung in the sky like a wounded thing, veiled behind slow-moving clouds, pale and trembling, as if even it could not bear witness to what had been lost. I remember kneeling in the blood-damp grass, my hands pressed against the place where his heart had stopped beating. The earth beneath us was soaked with sacrifice... With him.He died saving me.Those words circle my mind like wolves around prey. They never stop. They never grow tired.And now, three nights later, the entire pack gathers beneath the ancient oaks for his burial—the burial of an Alpha who did not fall for power, nor territory, nor pride… but for love.For me.The clearing has always been sacred. It is where Alphas are named and where they are laid to rest. The ground is soft with centuries of history—ashes, tears, promises.Tonight, torches burn in a wide circle. Their flames flicker gold against the dark bark of towering oaks. The air smells of pine r
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