The Human Girl Who Tamed Alpha King Chapter 147

ARIA

The chant still echoed in my ears as we left the arena. "King and Queen forever." My gut clenched with each repetition. Not because I hated it—because it felt right in ways I wasn't ready to admit.

"You okay?" Jace's voice broke through my thoughts, his hand warm against the small of my back.

"Just processing." I glanced at Gabriel walking beside us, his shoulders lighter than I'd seen in years.

The preparation area for the memorial lanterns buzzed with quiet conversation. Long tables stretched across the clearing in the Sacred Grove, laden with paper lanterns, markers, and small candles. My fingers traced the edge of a blank lantern, hesitating.

"Need help?" Jace appeared at my side, already holding his own completed lantern.

"No. Just figuring out what to write." I picked up a marker. "Who did you write for?"

Jace's expression softened. "My mother. A few pack members we lost in the war."

I nodded, understanding the weight of leadership. Jace carried the grief of an entire pack on his shoulders.

Gabriel approached slowly, his own lantern clutched tightly in weathered hands. He placed it gently on the table, revealing Bree's name written in his neat, controlled script.

I picked up my lantern and wrote "Bree Silverbrook" in careful letters. Beneath her name, I added: "Gone, but forever loved."

Gabriel peered over my shoulder. "I love it, little deer."

Lucas appeared on my other side. "Looks good, sis."

We worked in comfortable silence, the scratch of markers against paper the only sound. Pack members filled the tables around us, some crying quietly, others sharing stories of those they'd lost.

Two hours passed before everyone finished. Children grew restless, parents hushed them gently. The sun dipped below the tree line, casting long shadows across the grove.

Jace stood and stepped onto a small platform at the edge of the clearing. The crowd fell silent.

"Tonight we honor those taken from us by darkness," he announced, voice carrying across the hushed gathering. "We send our messages to the sky, to the Moon Goddess, so that they know they are not forgotten."

Helpers moved through the crowd, lighting candles. Gabriel's hand found mine, squeezing tightly.

"When I give the signal, light your lantern and release it," Jace continued. "Let our grief rise together, and perhaps find some peace in the sharing of it."

He raised his hand, then dropped it. A thousand tiny flames flickered to life. The first lanterns began to rise, wobbling uncertainly before catching the night breeze. Soon the sky filled with points of golden light, climbing higher, carrying our messages to the stars.

I lit my lantern for Bree, watching the flame warm the paper from within. As it filled with hot air, tugging gently at my fingers, I closed my eyes.

*You left too early, Bree. It's been seven years, but I still remember your face—those five years we had together gave me memories I hold onto. Gabriel keeps you alive in stories, filling in the gaps time tries to take. He raised us strong, just like you would have wanted. He's getting tired now. I think he might join you soon. But don't worry—we got him. And we got the monster who took you away. We made him pay. I hope you can rest now. I love you, always.*

I released the lantern, watching it join the others rising toward the moon. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn't wipe them away. Tonight, they were allowed.

Gabriel stood transfixed, watching his lantern disappear into the darkness. I moved closer, giving him space but letting him know I was there.

"I had three goals after Bree died," he said softly. "Raise you kids right. Stop others from dying. See that bastard dead." He exhaled slowly. "All done now."

"What comes next?" I asked.

"Seeing you thrive. Watching you compete in the Winter Moon Festival." His eyes remained fixed on the sky. "That's enough for an old man."

"You're not that old."

He chuckled. "Tell that to my knees."

The lanterns climbed higher, thousands of them now, turning the night sky into a river of light. Aria imagined souls guided by those lights, finding their way home.

"She would be proud of you," I said. "Not just for today. For everything."

Gabriel nodded, unable to speak. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling the slight tremble in his body. When we separated, he wiped his eyes quickly and nodded toward Jace.

"Go to him. He needs you tonight."

I hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Go on. I'm fine."

I crossed the clearing to where Jace stood alone, watching the lanterns with an unreadable expression. He pulled me against him without turning, somehow sensing my approach.

"Thank you for this," I said, leaning into his warmth. "Everyone needed it."

"I needed it too." His voice rumbled against my ear. "Gabriel doing okay?"

"Better than I expected." I watched as the last of the lanterns disappeared into the darkness. "It's really over now."

People began gathering their belongings, quiet conversations resuming as they prepared to head home. Gabriel approached us, his steps lighter than before.

"Thank you for organizing this, Jace," he said, extending his hand.

Jace clasped it firmly. "Happy to do it."

"Come on," I said, noticing how Gabriel's energy was flagging. "Let's get home and check on the kids."

We walked back together—Gabriel, Lucas, Eliana, Jace and me—following the winding path through the forest toward the packhouse. The silence felt comfortable, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

"Greta's probably tired of babysitting by now," Eliana said, breaking the quiet.

"Aurora's a handful," I agreed, smiling at the thought of my stepdaughter.

"Atlas too," Jace added. "Though Greta seemed fascinated by him this morning."

I frowned slightly, remembering how strange she'd acted around him before we left. Something tickled at the back of my mind, but I couldn't quite grasp it.

As the packhouse came into view, lights glowing warmly through the windows, Gabriel sighed contentedly.

"Home," he said simply.

None of us could have guessed what waited inside those walls. Or how drastically our lives were about to change. Again.