Page 82 of Freed Wolfsbane

I don’t have to worry for too long because the four of them rush in front of me. While they all look the worse for wear, I don’t see any life-threatening injuries.

The twins’ fur is matted with blood and slashed in a few places. Malachi is cradling one of his arms protectively against his chest, and his face is splattered with gore. And Saint is limping and seems to struggle to crouch down, but they’re all alive, which is what matters.

“What happened?” I croak, my throat feeling like I swallowed a box of sandpaper.

Malachi gives me a soft smile. “We were losing as more and more Knights swarmed us. Then your magic shot through the room, destroying everyone in its path aside from us. It even shattered the sword, so I’m fairly certain you broke the curse.”

I give him a small smile, which is all I can manage right now. The longer I lie here, the heavier my eyelids feel. The pain of Dido getting ripped out of me hasn’t let up, and it’s getting harder and harder to stay awake through it all.

Saint notices and grips one of my blood-covered hands in his. “We’re all safe now, so rest, little shadow. We have it from here.” His gentle voice and reassurance that my mates are fine is what finally makes me release my death grip on awareness.

My mates are the last thing I see before I fade into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER39

BRIAR

The gray skies and persistent drizzle perfectly fit the somber mood of everyone gathered here. It’s been a week since we stormed the Knights’ stronghold, and we’re finally holding the last funeral for Wyldhart pack members who died in the battle.

Aunt Abbie is crying silently next to me as she waits for the funeral to start. Bastian’s clutching her hand as he stares worriedly at his mom. She’s been crying almost constantly for the past week since we told her the news. By we, I mean the Wyldharts and Saint because I was passed out for a solid three days.

It turns out that losing a chunk of your soul and being sliced open from belly button to sternum takes a lot out of someone. Apparently, it was pretty touch and go for me for a while. While my physical wounds were healing, I was still randomly flatlining intermittently for the first two days. The pack doctor and mage healers couldn’t find anything that would be causing that, so they just had to sit back, wait, and hope I would get through it.

The best I can come up with is that my soul was confused and kept trying to leave this plane to follow the other part of it to the next life. Fortunately for me, it eventually realized it was supposed to stay here, which was when I stopped flatlining and eventually woke up.

Shaking my head because I doubt I’ll ever know what actually happened, I focus back on the present and listen to the soft sounds of crying that break the quiet of the dreary midmorning.

I wish there was something I could do to comfort Abbie, but there aren’t any words I can say to make the losses hurt any less, for any of us. The only thing that will help is time and the wound not being so fresh.

Microphone static sounds before a booming voice says, “We are gathered here today to say goodbye to the heart and soul of our pack. To the man who selflessly gave his life to protect the future of our pack and break the curse that has haunted us for nearly a thousand years. Without his sacrifice, I wouldn’t be standing here with you all today.” Vale breaks off and squeezes his eyes shut. When he composes himself, he continues giving the eulogy. “Samuel Charles Anderson was the best beta a man could ever ask for.”

Vale continues talking about Sam, laughing about the trouble they caused as kids, remembering all he did for the pack, and even shedding a few tears about what life will look like now that he’s gone.

After we saw Vale get shot and collapse, Sam jumped in to cover him. He ended up taking thirteen bullets meant for Vale, although three more did get past him. While the mages portaled the two of them off the battlefield as soon as they could, there was nothing the pack doctor or mage healer could do for Sam. His heart was too destroyed.

While Vale was shot six times, Sam kept the Knights from injuring his heart or head any further. The doctors were able to patch Vale up, although he’s still supposed to be on bedrest. There was no way he was missing his beta’s funeral, though. I’m sure the doctor would have a heart attack seeing Vale standing up there for twenty minutes, but Vale was determined to give the eulogy for his best friend.

Once he’s done giving his speech, Vale limps over to the first row. Bastian stands up to give his dad his seat and comes over to sit in front of me on the damp ground. Sam’s funeral is packed. We definitely don’t have enough chairs, so Bastian isn’t the only one sitting on the grass or standing.

The cold and wet seeping into his black suit pants doesn’t seem to bother Bastian as he wraps his arm around my legs and leans his head on my thighs. All of my mates have been by my side since I woke up, none of them wanting to let me out of their sight after I almost died. Again.

In my defense, it wasn’t even my fault. Dido was the one who used the potion that almost killed me, so my mates can’t even be upset at me.

At the thought of Dido, a familiar ache blooms in my chest. I’ve only known about her for a matter of months, but she was a friend, a source of comfort, a guide, someone who always listened to me, and so much more. I feel a persistent emptiness in my chest that I don’t think will ever go away.

All I can hope is that Dido is with her mates now. She lived so many more lifetimes than she should’ve, and I know how much she missed her mates through it all. Neither of us knew what would happen to her after using the potion, but I choose to believe she’s happy now.

After everyone is done speaking, they lower Sam’s casket into the ground and cover it with dirt and fresh flowers. Even though I didn’t know Sam that well, there are still tears trailing down my cheeks as the people who loved him say goodbye, including his mate, mate group, three daughters, and five grandkids.

Although the last week has been filled with sadness and grief for our pack, the other shifters who fought with us, and the mages, there have been bright spots, too. Just yesterday, the first female wolf shifted after volunteering to drink the wolfsbane potion that all wolves have to consume before shifting. We were all nervous that she wouldn’t shift, but it happened pretty quickly, thankfully.

Now that we know the curse is broken, female wolves are lining up across the world to get their wolves. The pure joy and excitement I’ve seen from the women around here at the prospect of shifting for the first time makes me feel on top of the world. While I don’t know that anything can make losing nearly three hundred shifters and mages worth it, this at least brings joy to mix with the sorrow.

As people start filtering out of the private cemetery on Wyldhart land, I push up from my chair and stretch my hands over my head.

“Careful,” Malachi chides as he places his hands on my waist to steady me.

I turn in his arms and smile up at him, not having the heart to be exasperated by his bossiness. This past week has been hard on all of us. And, if I’m being honest, I need my mates’ comfort as much as they need to reassure themselves I’m still here. “I’m all healed, you know?” Surprisingly, I’ve made a full recovery, even though I was stabbed in the stomach yet again.

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