All Chapters of Fated Tragedy: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

After a few long, breathless seconds the two identical wolves shifted back into men — Alek and Ryan — their features mirroring each other so closely the world felt like it had folded in half. They looked at me, then at the girl on the ground, and I took a cautious step toward her as she began to stir.Ryan spotted her first. He was on her in an instant, pinning her down, every motion precise and controlled. Lyra clamped down on my hand with a careful bite — not painful, just enough to anchor me — and the command in her metallic chest made itself clear.“You stay put!” she said, vibration-soft. “We were told to stay in the room. If I get in trouble for this, we both go down. Stay away from that girl.”Her warning settled in my ribs and I froze, muscles locked with dread that whoever pinned the girl might hurt her. She looked barely out of her twenties; there was something furtive in the set of her shoulders, something hidden. Her last name had stuck in my mind — and that made my skin c

Knowing Ryan would need to sweep the pack house, I was grateful Lyra was with our mate. I linked him and asked him to move fast — we had a family to protect, and the pack house was not safe.He agreed. Lyra told me he left the moment the link snapped, precise and ruthless as always. With that settled, I excused Silvia.“Thank you for cooperating with our questioning,” I said. “My top warriors will personally escort you when you leave. A warrior will give you a phone; please text me directly when things are on its way, and once you are settled again in the pack house. We’ll be in touch.”Relief softened the old woman’s face. I’d already signaled Trevor — Ryan’s best man — to wait outside with the phones. He would see to Silvia and her kin. Still, the interrogation had only begun, and Silvia’s story had made it plain: Michail’s family history was tangled, and I had to move through it quickly.Next I called Gretchen in. Michail’s mother. She didn’t waste a breath before asking for the do

I paced from side to side, my phone trembling in my hands as I texted Alek. No matter how hard I tried, the anxiety wouldn’t stay contained. Lyra noticed, her mechanical tail flicking with a soft whir as if she could feel the storm inside me.I wanted to ask Alek outright if we could go see my pup today—but I knew how much was already on his shoulders. He’d just finished five interrogations, every relative of mine except my stepfather. The thought made me nervous, but exhaustion dulled everything else.Waiting for his reply, the door opened. A very tired Alek stood there.I walked straight into him, hugging him tightly. We were alone except for Lyra, and in that brief embrace, I felt his warmth seep through my coat.“Today was a very long day,” he said calmly, his voice low and frayed at the edges. “As much as I want to go to the hospital and fit Zebasthian in his clothes for his special day, we need to go home and rest for now. I’ll have Ryan interrogate your stepfather. One thing I’

Seeing him there, I started to calm down. The conversation with my sister came to mind—the one I’d held onto as a lifeline. It gave me the motivation to push through, to reach the other side of this grief without shattering completely.It came to mind.The grass always seems greener in someone else’s yard, but somewhere in my own there has to be a patch of green I haven’t found yet. I’ve read that line so many times online, but now—standing here before my son—it finally felt like more than just words. My breathing steadied a little.I could hear Ryan’s heartbeat behind me, feel his steady control pressing like a shield around my shaking body. Lyra stayed close, her attention fixed entirely on me. I wasn’t stable, not really, but I was holding on as best I could. Letting out a trembling breath, I began to speak to my pup, just like I used to every morning.“Good morning, my little man… Mommy has so much to do. I know you had a hard time last week when we saw each other, but I wanted to

The hour was drawing near. Soon, words would be spoken over my son, and though I should have felt only dread or peace, what gnawed at me was the fact that the one speaking was no ally of my grandmother.Still, it didn’t worry me what he would say. He had been given the truth—the full truth—about who my pup was, what he meant, and what his short life carried. What weighed on me was wondering how he would say it, what shape his words would take.As I sat waiting, I heard small stories whispered—snippets from caretakers and neighbors about the rare afternoons when my son had gone to the park. Laughter in the sand. Little fists clutching his favorite toy. How he had clung to his pillow when tired. Each story carved new wounds and stitched new threads of pride in me all at once.Then Brother Shawn’s voice rose, strong yet melodic, commanding the room without force:“May I please have your attention, to bring upon the young warrior resting beside me the comfort and respect to guide him one