Into the Alpha’s Keep Chapter 35: 34

POV Fenrir Dăneşti

Could I try to take her to the bath, but she wouldn’t accept it, even if I had memorized every inch of her skin. She was stubborn and proud.

She opened her blue eyes and stared at the ceiling. Tears streamed down the sides of her face without stopping, like a waterfall, sliding over her dirt-streaked skin, leaving a trail and soaking the pillow. There were some leaves stuck in her hair, blending with the dry blood.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

I could smell the blood staining her dark hair, creating a small scab, but I didn’t feel any physical pain coming from her. My saliva had done a good job, sealing the open wound.

"I'm not hurt," she whispered, pressing her lips together and wrinkling her small nose. "Your life isn’t in danger, there’s nothing to worry about." There was a hint of bitterness in her tone.

I opened my mouth to protest, but I fell silent.

She was right; my only concern about her was because of our bond. At least, that’s what I thought and believed.

"Alright. Rest, tomorrow will be a long day."

It was already nearing the end of the afternoon, soon the sun would give way to the moon. Ruda’s mourning family would spend the last hours under the night’s cloak, saying goodbye to who he was in life, preparing his soul for the afterlife.

I focused on her breathing. Rhythmic and slow, just like her heartbeat. She was fine and out of danger. I spun on my heels and headed out of the room. I heard the rustling of the sheets and the creaking of the mattress.

"Fenrir?" she called. I glanced at her over my shoulder; she was propped up on her elbow, facing me. "I tried to save him, I swear I tried," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

I clenched my teeth, grinding my jaw.

"I know you did," I revealed.

Savannah had some qualities, and caring for others, even when they didn’t deserve her sympathy, was one of them, especially for pups.

I took a step when she spoke again:

"Can I go to his wake, or whatever you do here when someone dies?"

It wasn’t a good idea, but... she had the right, since she tried to save the pup’s life, putting herself at risk even when she didn’t have to. They weren’t her pack, nor were they friendly. She had no reason to help him, yet she tried.

"Tomorrow, at dusk," I warned, leaving the room and closing the door behind me.

I descended the stairs with firm steps, grabbed a whiskey from the kitchen counter, unscrewed the cap, and drank directly from the bottle.

Of all the bad days I had in my life, this one would make the list. I hadn’t just lost a wolf, I had lost a pup. I had failed as an alpha; as a mate; as a man, leader, and wolf.

I grabbed the bottle and threw it against the wall. The glass shattered on the floor, along with the amber liquid and the scent of alcohol that filled the room.

At least, I couldn’t smell Ruda’s death anymore. The scent of my failure.

***

POV Savannah Bowen

I didn't get out of bed after Fenrir left the room. I stayed dirty, covered in dirt and blood, as if the smell could remind me, make me brood over what had happened.

His death was my fault.

Hunter wanted me, and would kill anyone who stood in his way, whether males, females, or… even pups. Ruda was only eleven, just a little boy, innocent and just beginning to discover the pleasures of life.

I ignored my hungry stomach and the throbbing headache from crying. I ignored the discomfort on the right side of my body, which hit the hard ground when I was thrown far away.

Once again, physical pain was nothing compared to emotional pain.

I stared at the pale moon through the window, admiring the way the silvery light illuminated the treetops. I watched it for so long that I saw the moment when the sky started to lighten, gradually making the darkness fully illuminated.

The silence around Fenrir’s house, always welcome, had become an annoyance on this particular day. It reminded me of death, of mourning. And for the first time since I arrived in the village, I could feel it vibrating on my skin.

At some point in the morning, Nicoleta came up with a tray of coffee, containing eggs, bacon, and black coffee. I tried to eat, but couldn’t, so I gave in to just the bitter, hot liquid.

She returned hours later with lunch. She dropped the second tray and took the first one without saying a word. Again, I ignored the food on the plate.

I admired the birds flying in front of the window, hopping from branch to branch, flapping their wings at a dizzying speed. They seemed so… alive. Very different from how I felt.

I lost track of time and space, too focused on the forest animals that served as a distraction throughout the whole day.

I only moved when I noticed the sun had weakened a bit, showing that another day had passed. I got up, forcing myself to drag my feet out of bed and walked to the bathroom.

My reflection in the mirror was a sad and depressing sight. Purple dark circles, angular and protruding cheekbones, a swollen, battered, and dirty face, with dark strands full of knots falling around.

I turned my head and pushed aside the strands stiff with dried blood. There was nothing there, no mark from the wound the previous day. Once again, Fenrir’s saliva had skillfully healed me.

I took off my dirty clothes, tossing them into the corner as if it were a necessity to get rid of them after wearing them for so long.

I let the hot water fall over me, relaxing the tense muscles. I looked at my feet, watching the dark liquid flow, washing away all the dirt.

I scrubbed myself several times until my skin burned and my scalp throbbed. I needed to absorb the scent of flowers from the beauty products so I could try to forget the smell of death, of violence.

When I finished my shower, I dragged myself back to the room. I stopped at the door and held the towel tightly, gasping in surprise.

Nicoleta was bent over the bed, adjusting the sheets. She straightened up and turned to me, placing a hand over her heart, startled.

"Forgive me, I thought you would take longer. I didn’t want to disturb you, but I needed to change the bed linens," she said, a blush rising in her cheeks. "They were dirty from the dirt."

I nodded, looking away.

"It’s fine, Nicoleta… I just…" I cleared my throat.

She shook her head with a hand gesture.

"It wasn’t your fault, Miss Savannah. Fatalities happen. I’m sorry you had to witness little Ruda’s death."

I wanted to argue, scream that it was my fault, that I could have done more, but I couldn’t. My throat closed up, and tears blurred my vision.

I turned toward the wardrobe, ready to pick something to wear when I spotted a box on the corner chair. It was white, large, tied with a pink bow.

"What is this?" I asked, walking toward it with unsteady steps.

Nicoleta shrugged.

"It was here when I arrived."

I breathed in, trying to smell the air, but the sweet scent of cleaning products she had used was so strong that I couldn’t smell anything else.

Angrily, I leaned over the box and untied the knot. I pulled off the lid and stared at the white fabric with furrowed brows.

"It’s a dress," I said, running my fingers over the satin, feeling it. "A white dress."

She blinked, shocked.

"It must have been from Mr. Fenrir. Today, during the ceremony, everyone must wear white."

"But why white?"

In my old pack, death was only seen as a passage. It was treated simply and irreverently.

"Because white symbolizes purity, spirituality, and the transition to another world. For us, death and mourning are not an absolute end but a stage of transition to a new existence. Wearing white on the day of the funeral is like a promise of eternal life to the deceased."

I felt a weight on my chest and forced myself to take a deep breath.

Fenrir had, as always, left this information out, but at least he patched things up this time, sending me the clothes I should wear. I was tired of embarrassing myself in front of his pack for not knowing their customs.

"Thank you for explaining it to me," I murmured, taking the box. "It was… kind of Fenrir to send me the right clothes."

Nicoleta smiled, proud of herself.

I walked toward the bathroom with the box in hand, but stopped when I heard shouting. I sharpened my hearing. It was a female voice. Marilyn’s voice, which seemed to be protesting an order given by Fenrir.

"What is that?" I whispered, thinking out loud.

"Mr. Fenrir already gave clear orders for Miss Marilyn not to come here anymore, but she disobeyed his orders and came to the house this afternoon."

Hearing that bitch's name made me nauseous. My wolf stirred after hours of silence in mourning for Ruda upon hearing about that wretch.

I let out a laugh.

"It’s like Fenrir has control over her," I mocked.

Nicoleta breathed heavily.

"Miss Marilyn is a bit… invasive sometimes, but the only one who can still control her is Mr. Fenrir."

I turned to her, raising an eyebrow.

"If that were true, she wouldn’t come to his house after receiving clear orders not to."