4

He adjusted his suit cuffs, straightened his tie, as if none of this was his doing, as if he were merely a heartless spectator at someone else's funeral rather than the architect of this nightmare.

"You!" The word exploded from Ethan's father as he charged forward. His body contorted, bones cracking as he partially shifted into his battle stance, face elongating, teeth sharpening. He roared at my father, spittle flying: "What did you say to my son?"

He slammed a fist against his chest, eyes glowing amber with rage. "Why did he jump into the silver pit after hearing it? What kind of monster are you?"

He shifted further, claws fully extended as he lunged at my father. His attacks were lethal—slashing at Dad's throat, his chest, anywhere that would draw blood.

But Dad, once the pack's Beta, hadn't lost his fighting abilities despite three years in prison. He faced the attacks with ease, bending backwards to avoid a swipe, sidestepping a lunge, not even bothering to shift forms, simply dodging without striking back.

"Fight me, you coward!" Ethan's father bellowed, his voice roughened by his partial shift.

Other pack members formed a circle, their faces twisted with anger as they surrounded him:

"You demon!" shouted one of the elders, pointing a gnarled finger. "First you killed your own wife, and now your daughter's mate!"

A woman in a blue dress stepped forward, her fists clenched. "A joyous day ruined by your cursed presence! You shouldn't have been allowed here!"

Ethan's cousin, a young man who had been his best friend, pushed through the crowd. "Ethan always defended you," he said, his voice breaking.

"When everyone else wanted to run you out of the territory, he stood up for you. He said you were suffering most from losing your mate. He told us not to pour salt on your wounds." His voice rose to a shout. "And this is how you repay such a good man? By whispering death into his ear?"

The accusations continued to fly, each one sharp enough to draw blood, but Dad remained unmoved.

With a swift, practiced movement, he kicked away Ethan's father's latest attack, the older man tumbling backwards into the crowd. Dad stood firmly, brushed some invisible dust from his sleeve, and responded:

"He chose to jump." His voice was cold, detached. "What does that have to do with me?"

A collective gasp rippled through the gathering. Even I, who had witnessed his coldness before, was shocked by his callousness.

Ethan's mother suddenly broke free from those comforting her. She lurched forward, her face ravaged by grief, and grabbed my father's sleeve with such force that the fabric tore. Her scream was primal, a sound of pure maternal anguish:

"Give me back my son!" Tears and mascara streamed down her face. "You monster, why did you have to show up? Why couldn't you just stay away?"

She beat her fists against his chest, but he didn't move, didn't try to stop her. "He was so kind, he loved Skye so much. How could he possibly commit suicide? At his own mating ceremony!" Her voice cracked. "How could he bear to abandon Skye when he promised to love her forever?"

She grabbed Dad's lapels, forcing him to look at her. "Before the wedding, do you know what he told me? He talked about taking Skye to see snow-capped mountains and oceans, to experience all the beautiful sights and tastes of the world."

Her words came faster, desperate. "He wanted to start a family and have three children! A boy and two girls! He had their names picked out!"

She was shaking now, her grief turning to rage. "He wanted a happy, bustling life! Everything was just beginning—how could he throw it all away? What did you say to him? WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

I didn't stop her assault on my father. I couldn't. My limbs felt leaden, my throat closed. I could only look at my father in despair, the question burning in my eyes before I could force it from my lips:

"Why?"

My voice barely carried above the wind, but I knew he heard me. I took a step closer, feeling the stares of everyone around us.

"Wasn't killing Mom enough?" My voice gained strength from my pain. "Why did you have to kill Ethan too?"

The memories flooded back, unbidden. Once, Dad and Mom loved me so much. Our family was so happy. The bedtime stories, the full moon runs through the forest, the way Dad would throw me into the air and catch me while Mom pretended to scold him for being reckless.

Because of one sentence from Dad, Mom died, and our home was gone. My childhood shattered in an instant.

It was Ethan who had painstakingly helped me piece myself back together. It was Ethan who helped me feel warmth again, who rekindled my longing for family when I thought that part of me had died with Mom.

"You took everything from me." My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Now, at this crucial moment when I was about to become his mate and rebuild my connection with family, with pack... you've destroyed everything again."

I couldn't stop the tears now. They flowed freely down my cheeks, dropping onto my white dress. "I could have been happy again. I only wanted you to attend in my mother's place, to witness my happy moment. To be my father one more time."

My voice broke on the last words. "Not only did you fail to fulfill that simple wish, but you shattered my happiness when it was within reach. Why do you hate me so much?"

Dad's expressionless face finally changed. A flicker of something—pain? regret?—crossed his features, showing a rare glimpse of emotion:

"Even you think that way?" The words were soft, almost wounded.

Through my tears, I asked the question that had haunted me for years:

"I just want to know what you said." I stepped closer to him, close enough to see the flecks of gray in his eyes. "What words could be so powerful that they drive people to die rather than live with them?"

I remembered Mom's final moments—how she looked at me with the same terror as Ethan, then turned and ran. How her legs pumped frantically as she raced toward the silver pit.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't catch up. In the end, I saw their bodies at the bottom of the silver pit, skin smoking from contact with the deadly metal.

"I wanted to know what those words were that made them abandon me, abandon everything, even their own lives." My voice was barely a whisper.

Pack members continued shouting accusations from all sides, their anger building to a dangerous pitch:

"You're not leaving until you explain yourself!" Someone shoved Dad from behind, making him stumble forward.

Dad regained his balance instantly. He shook off Ethan's mother's hand and coldly surveyed the crowd, his eyes hardening:

"I dare to speak," he said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade, "but do you dare to listen?"