Chapter 6 I Almost Look Forward to Seeing Her

Damian's POV

Everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed.

Two years since Airina died, and I still think about her every single day. Her smile, her laugh, her kindness, her excitement about Luna training. Sometimes I catch myself wondering what our life would be like if she were still here. We would be happily mated by now, probably with at least two pups running around. We would be leading Moon Shadow Valley together, her gentle nature balancing my more aggressive tendencies.

Without her, I'm only a fraction of who I used to be. Only a fraction of the wolf I used to be.

And I'm still not Alpha.

Most Alpha heirs take over between the ages of twenty and twenty-five, usually after they've found their mate. A Luna brings balance to the pack and to the Alpha. She's considered the Alpha's equal, capable of challenging his decisions when necessary. When an Alpha and Luna are fated mates, it's considered a blessing from the Moon Goddess herself.

There are exceptions, of course. Some heirs take over before twenty, usually out of necessity or because they've already mated with a strong Luna at a young age.

Two years ago, my father thought Airina and I would be one of those exceptions. He had been planning an early retirement, confident in our ability to lead together. Those plans were canceled when Airina died.

Now, I'm old enough to take over as Alpha even without a Luna. But my father believes I'm still not mentally strong enough.

"You're broken, son," he told me during our last discussion about succession. "A broken Alpha cannot lead a pack effectively."

My father is probably right. I am broken. How could I not be when reminders of Airina are everywhere? The packhouse is like a small museum dedicated to her memory. Local businesses sell items commemorating her. Streets bear her name. It's suffocating.

I take another swig from the whiskey bottle—my third tonight—hoping the burn might dull the ache that never seems to leave my chest. The amber liquid catches the moonlight streaming through my window. Tonight, the moon is almost full, mocking me with its near-perfection. Tomorrow it will be completely full, just as it was the night Airina died.

Twice a year, the pack holds elaborate memorial ceremonies for her—on her birthday and on the anniversary of her death. As her mate and future Alpha heir, I'm expected to attend every single one of these events.

It's absolute torture.

Those two days—her birthday and death anniversary—are the hardest. I wish I could spend them alone at Crystal Falls, deep in Moon Shadow territory where no one would disturb me. It's the only place that gives me any comfort, allowing me to process my grief in private.

Instead of allowing me that solace tomorrow, I'm forced to stand in front of nearly ten thousand eyes, trying to maintain an impossible balance between showing grief and showing strength. If I appear too devastated, the pack worries I'm weak. If I appear too composed, they whisper that I didn't truly love her or that I lack the compassion needed in a Luna.

The ceremonies follow the same pattern every time. People tell stories about how Airina baked cookies for the guards, prepared care baskets for injured pack members and their families, and worked diligently on her Luna lessons. Her parents talk about their dreams for their daughter and their heartbreak. Noah reminisces about family gatherings that aren't the same without her. Others express their wish for a Luna to help lead the pack.

The only good thing about these events is that no one expects me to say anything. But I can't escape their stares and judgments.

If I show too much grief, they worry I'm too fragile to lead. If I show strength, they whisper that I'm disrespecting Airina's memory or that I lack the balance and compassion needed in an Alpha. I've heard the gossip.

"He barely shed a tear at last year's ceremony," I overheard an elderly pack member whisper to another. "His heart must be as cold as a vampire's."

Little did they know I had spent the entire night before sobbing into my pillow, clutching the engagement ring I never got to give her.

It makes me angry. Furious, actually. My parents shouldn't put me through this. No one should be forced to display their grief publicly and then be judged for how they do it.

I tried to push back once.

"This isn't healthy," I told my parents. "These constant reminders are making it harder for me to heal. Maybe we could scale back the ceremonies or make them more private."

My father grew angry. "That's selfish, Damian. Being uncomfortable and dealing with the pack's judgment is part of being an Alpha."

My mother reminded me that the ceremonies were Airina's parents' idea. "Would you like to tell them personally that you no longer care about commemorating Airina?" she asked.

I backed down immediately. I would never want to hurt Airina's parents. I'm not selfish. I just wish—I just wish I wasn't so sad all the time.

For two years, the only time I've been able to breathe through the grief is when that idiot is around.

Luke and I can sense her from a mile away.

She doesn't smell that bad, Luke often argues.

Shut up, I always respond.

It's nice having her around, though. At least I have a target for my anger and rage.

She's not responsible for Airina's death, Luke whispers in my mind, a familiar argument between us.

She was there that night. She knows what happened and never told anyone. That makes her guilty.

Or scared, Luke counters.

I ignore him. Tomorrow is the second anniversary of Airina's death. Another day of public grief, another day of judgment, another day without the woman who was supposed to be my Luna.

But at least that idiot will be there. She always shows up for the memorial days, though she avoids the territory the rest of the year. Smart move on her part.

I almost look forward to seeing her. Almost.