Three months after the battle, Nightshade was still recovering. The physical damage was repaired quickly, wolves were efficient builders. But the emotional and psychological wounds took longer to heal.
Twenty-three funerals. Twenty-three pack members who'd never come home. Aria attended every single one, Luna at her side. Her daughter needed to understand the cost of the ideology that had attacked them.
"They died protecting us," Luna said quietly at the last funeral, for a young warrior named Thomas who'd been only seventeen. "Protecting me."
"They died protecting their home and their values," Aria corrected gently. "You were part of that, yes. But not all of it. Don't reduce their sacrifice to just being about you."
It was a delicate balance. Luna needed to understand her impact with
