Into the Alpha’s Keep Chapter 36: 35

POV Savannah Bowen

Well... I didn’t exactly obey Fenrir’s orders, nor would I ever do so. But Marilyn and he had a history; she seemed to do everything to please him and get his attention. It was kind of controversial.

“Miss Marilyn has a difficult temper,” he sighed, shaking his head. “She was Miss Catalina's best friend.”

I opened my mouth in an ‘o’ shape and turned fully towards her.

“What?”

The bitch, besides being a damn bitch, was a traitor.

Nicoleta finished adjusting the bed, gathered her cleaning supplies, and turned towards the door.

“They were best friends, but after Miss Catalina’s death, Miss Marilyn and Mr. Fenrir grew closer since only the two of them understood the magnitude of their grief.”

“Has... has it been a long time since Catalina died?” I stammered, feeling down after hearing the wolf’s story.

“Fifty years, approximately.”

“And how did she die?” I asked.

Nicoleta smiled faintly.

“Maybe, one day, Mr. Fenrir will tell you the story.” She cleared her throat. “We can’t talk much about it, he gets upset when anyone brings it up.”

“Alright,” I sighed, picking up the box with the dress. “I’ll get ready for the funeral.”

She nodded.

“I’m also going home to prepare.”

I entered the bathroom and let the towel drop. I pulled the dress out and put it on my body. It was a bit large on me, the skirt dragging on the floor because it was too long. I held the sides and pulled it up. It would be easy to trip if I wasn’t careful. There was also extra fabric around my chest.

It was one-shouldered, tight at the waist, with a long and rounded skirt that cascaded down. Though simple, it was very beautiful and had been made by talented hands, as the seams were well done.

It wasn’t ugly, although it was a size bigger than mine.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I wouldn’t put on makeup because it would be worse if I cried again. I brushed my hair, getting rid of all the knots with some difficulty.

The wet strands stuck to my neck and shoulders, dripping onto the light fabric. My hair had grown since I arrived in the village. After my fateful wedding, I had cut my hair, which had reached my waist, down to just below my shoulders because it was one of the things Hunter said he liked about me. Now, it reached the middle of my back.

I grabbed the sides of the cold sink and sighed.

The story of Fenrir, Catalina, and Marilyn wouldn’t leave my mind. I would hate both of them if that happened to me. My best friend and my fiancé together. Damn, it didn’t matter that she had died and that they found a way to get over the grief, it still wasn’t right.

I went back to the room, grabbed a comfortable pair of sneakers, and put them on. The chances of tripping with the dress would be even greater if I wore heels.

I gave one last glance toward the window and moved out of the room.

The house was silent, but the heat in my chest as I descended the stairs was an indication that it wasn’t empty. He was nearby.

I stopped on the last step.

Fenrir was looking through the large glass window, the muscles of his back stiff under the white shirt he wore. He had his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and was breathing slowly.

“What did you do with the heads?” I asked, remembering the romantic decoration he had made for me.

It had been days since dinner, and I imagined Nicoleta had gotten a shock when she saw them, just as she must have spent a good amount of time disinfecting the place. She was a bit obsessive about cleaning.

“I had Andrei bury them,” he replied, still facing away from me. “I didn’t want Nicoleta to die of a heart attack.”

“I bet the cleaning was intense,” I retorted, sliding my hand along the handrail.

He laughed, though there was no humor in it.

“She used a portion of cleaning products that would last a month, in a single morning. I think that answers your question.” He turned to face me but stopped halfway. His lips parted, shocked, and his eyebrows shot up. The silver in his eyes expanded, fading the blue. “What the hell is this?” he hissed, his voice barely a whisper.

I looked behind me, then down, and around, trying to understand what was causing his shock, but I didn’t find anything unusual. I focused, absorbing his emotions.

Anger. Horror. Sadness. Surprise.

He was so confused that it left me dizzy. I blinked, trying to ignore his emotions. I grabbed the sides of the dress and lifted them, taking a step, finishing descending the stairs.

“I don’t know if I understand,” I confessed. In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of me. He raised his hand and touched the dress with his fingertips. He seemed too perplexed to say anything. “Fenrir?” I called, but he didn’t answer.

It was like he was lost in some part of his memories, in recollections. He looked at the dress, at me, but it wasn’t like he could really see me.

My heart raced as panic began to spread through me.

The hand that had been roaming across the dress shot toward my neck, closing around it. Fenrir blinked, breaking free from the cloud that had covered his gaze.

The confusion of emotions he felt was crushed and absorbed, dominated by a single one that prevailed: anger.

He moved his face closer to mine and inhaled deeply, absorbing my scent. His fingers around my neck were firm, but not enough to hurt or suffocate. His eyes blinked, changing color between gold and blue.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m ready to go to Ruda’s funeral,” I retorted defensively.

His thumb slid across my neck, making an idle circle.

“In that dress?”

I frowned in confusion.

“It’s the dress you left for me, inside a box, in my room.”

He remained silent for a moment, close enough for me to absorb every note of his scent. My wolf purred, as if approving the smell, though still too upset.

He released me and stepped back, withdrawing his touch as if my skin burned him.

“Let’s go for the ritual. And behave, if you mess up, you’ll find out what it’s like to be a prisoner in this pack,” he murmured, gruffly, looking away, ignoring me.

If it were just to embarrass him, I’d definitely do something. Being locked inside the house was the least of my problems. But the way his pack was, it would only make them hate me more and despise me. And besides, it was Ruda’s last moment with his family and pack, he deserved respect.

Fenrir walked in front of me, striding towards the front door with heavy steps, angry.

I waited a bit before following him, keeping a safe distance.

He had mood problems, I was sure of that because the fluctuation was anything but normal.

***

The late afternoon descended upon us like a twilight cloak. The sky was painted in shades of orange and purple.

I could feel the heat from the pyre where Ruda’s body lay, in the center of the village, standing tall and adorned with symbols of the Dăneşti pack, while the flames licked the air in a wild and purifying dance.

It was a pyre worthy of a warrior, filled with noble wood and surrounded by ancient stones.

The Dăneşti believed that by burning the body of the deceased, they would release their soul to the valley, the place of eternal rest and endless hunts. At least, that’s what Nicoleta explained to me.

The crackling of the wood mixed with the murmurs and laments of the family members of the pup. A female knelt, while a male held her close, trying to comfort her.

Everyone was dressed in white, spreading out like a sea of peace and respect, without taking their eyes off the body of the boy burning.

Fenrir was further ahead, close to the family, his head bowed, showing respect for the little wolf. At my side, Alexandra stood still, watching the flames, her brow furrowed, while Mihaela cried heavily.

I kept strong, not letting a single tear escape. I could feel the eyes of the people on me, watching attentively, whispering among themselves.

Everyone knew I had been present when the pup was killed, that the wolves had come after me, that I was the one to blame. I felt the weight of their gaze, but I couldn’t judge them for it.

The sun began to dip behind the ancient pines as time passed.

I watched the pyre, carefully and respectfully built, the flames rising high against the twilight. Ruda’s body, covered in white cloth, was surrendered to the flames, disappearing little by little. The smoke rose, carrying promises for his soul to find its way to the valley.

I swallowed a choked sigh and blinked, pushing away the tears as the images of the boy running, trying to find the object that had been hidden and win the challenge, flooded my mind.

The air filled with the scent of burnt wood. Everyone was silent, in respect for the family’s mourning.

I waited, holding firm.

When the full moon appeared in the sky, the people moved to the other side of the village, where tables were arranged, covered with white cloths and piled with meats, bread, and fruits. It was a celebration of the life Ruda had lived, no matter how short it had been.

They served pitchers of drinks with butterbeer and țuică, distributing them across the tables.

I sat with Alexandra and Mihaela in a more secluded spot. It was the same bar I had been to, nights ago, owned by Anca, Alexandra and Andrei's mother.

The people kept glancing at me sideways and whispering among themselves.

I sighed, catching Mihaela’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, raising the mug and taking a sip of the butterbeer.

I picked up one of the little glasses with the sweet țuică liqueur and drank it all in one long gulp. I tried to seem composed and accustomed, but the coughing fit gave me away.

“I’d advise doing that only when you’re used to alcohol,” Alexandra said.

“People won’t stop looking at me and whispering,” I complained, shrugging. “I’ll never be accepted in this pack.”

Could I go home and isolate myself in my room? Yes! But I didn’t want to mourn alone; I felt comfortable being beside Mihaela and Alexandra.

The omega looked me up and down before taking one of the țuică glasses and downing it in one go. Unlike me, she didn’t seem to feel the alcohol burning down her throat. I felt a bit envious of that trait.

“Who gave you that dress?” she asked.

I looked down, analyzing the dress. She wasn’t the first to ask about it, Fenrir seemed… horrified when he saw me wearing the dress.

“It was in my room… in a box,” I revealed. “I thought it was from Fenrir. He didn’t even tell me how the ritual worked or what I should wear. I didn’t know they wore white. I thought the box was a gift, since he didn’t say anything to me.”

Saying it out loud, it sounded so stupid. If he didn’t care enough to explain the pack to me, why would he give me an outfit for a funeral?

My chest tightened. I lifted my face and saw him dragging Marilyn into a dark, empty corner. His touch on her arm didn’t seem pleasant, but it was enough to irritate my wolf.

I grabbed another glass and drank it all in one go, coughing less this time.

“It wasn’t Fenrir who gave you the dress,” Alexandra said.

I focused on her and ignored the two damned ones before I lost control to my animal side. This was a mess. I barely cared about him, didn’t even like him, while my wolf claimed him as hers.

“What do you mean, it wasn’t Fenrir?”

She took a deep breath.

“The dress belonged to Catalina,” she replied, in a soft voice.

For a few seconds, I did nothing, staying still and absorbing the news. With my skin feeling cold, I lowered my eyes to the dress. The outfit, which had fit me well until then, seemed to catch fire, burning my skin.

“What?” I choked, stunned.

“I bet it was Marilyn,” Mihaela commented.

I grabbed the butterbeer mug, my pale and steady fingers, and drank all the liquid in a few gulps. I needed alcohol in my blood after the information I had just learned.

“The dress was Catalina’s,” she continued. “It was a gift from the pack to her when she was still alive and engaged to Fenrir. As you know, if a mated wolf dies, the other dies too. Catalina’s parents died of natural causes. I mean, one of them. She was devastated at the time because she didn’t expect it. So, as a mourning gift, the pack’s best seamstresses came together and sewed that dress for her, which she wore at their funeral.”

I swallowed hard and rubbed my sweaty palms on the white satin.

Wow, this was incredible news. Not only was I wearing the deceased’s clothes, but I was also wearing a gift from the pack to her. It was an affront to them, a disrespect.

“Heavens, I need more drink,” I gasped. I raised my hand, signaling one of the wolves wandering with the pitcher. Upon seeing who I was, he looked at me with disdain but complied.

“Please, I’d like a little more beer.” Without saying a word, he filled my cup.

“Thank you,” I said. He didn’t even bother to look at me before moving on.

“That’s why they’re talking and looking at you, and why they’re ignoring you.”

“I thought it was because of Ruda.”

She shook her head.

“Someone may indeed blame you for his death, but the majority knows you fought for him until the last second, that you tried to save him. And while they’re grateful for that, they won’t thank you. Not while you’re wearing Catalina’s dress.”

I drank all the beer. My body was already light from the alcohol in my empty stomach.