In that moment, something inside me shattered. I would never forgive him. Not in this life, not in the next.
Not under any moon the Goddess hung above us.
***
The burial was private.
Rain fell like a gentle curse, soaking through my mourning cloak, but I barely noticed. I lingered at the edge of the earth, watching the rune-inscribed coffin descend, the final resting place of our daughter. My tears had long dried; my heart felt hollow, a cave of nothing but fury and grief.
Brexon remained a few paces away. Warriors forming a silent barrier around him, unyielding and unfeeling. Not once has he spoken to me since that night. Not like I care. He had made his choice. And now, our pup was gone.
The pack priest murmured blessings, spoke of the Moon’s guidance, of reunion beyond life, but there was no solace, no plan. Only emptiness where Nyra had been.
Then Brexon moved.
A crystal communicator glowed at his ear; his face was cold iron. Moments later, he turned and walked away. He didn’t stay for the rites. He didn’t watch the last shovelful of earth cover his daughter.
It was pretty obvious. Lyssa called him, and he went—like a fool.