He pulled away like my touch burned, eyes finding mine with accusation that cut deeper than any rogue's claws. “You should have been here. You should have protected her.”
“I came as fast as I could?—”
“It wasn't fast enough.” His voice carried a bitter edge I'd never heard before, grief transforming into rage that needed somewhere to land. “She's dead, Evan. My mom is dead and I watched it happen and I couldn't stop it because I'm just human. Just fucking human in a world full of monsters.”
The self-hatred in his voice, the way he spat the word human like it was a curse, made my chest tight with a different kind of pain. Because this wasn't about secrets or lies. This was about a boy who'd just learned that love wasn't armor enough to keep the people you cared about safe.
“Nate.” I moved toward him without thinking, my wolf whining at the scent of his grief, at the way he was folding in on himself like he was trying to disappear. “This isn't your fault.”
“It is exactly that simple.” Nate struggled to his feet, leaving bloody handprints on walls that would never feel safe again. “She's dead because I'm human. Because I can't protect anyone that matters.”
The self-hatred in his voice cut deeper than any accusation he could have thrown at us. I reached for him, catching his face in my hands before he could pull away, forcing him to meet my eyes.
“Listen to me,” I said, voice rough with my own grief and the desperate need to make him understand. “Your mother died because monsters exist, not because you're human. She died because evil found its way to your door, not because you weren't strong enough to stop it.”
Tears tracked down his cheeks, leaving clean lines through the blood and dirt that painted his face like war paint. “But if I'd been like you?—”
“If you'd been like me, you'd still be mourning her,” I interrupted, thumbs brushing away tears that kept falling faster than I could catch them. “Being supernatural doesn't make you immune to loss, Nate. It just gives you different nightmares.”
He leaned into my touch despite himself, and I felt some of the rigid tension in his shoulders start to crack. “I should have been able to save her.”
“You tried. You fought for her. That's what matters.” I pressed my forehead against his, breathing in the scent of him beneath the copper tang of blood and violence. “Your mother saw you fight for her. That's the last thing she knew—that her son loved her enough to try to move mountains to keep her safe.”
Nate's breath hitched, and fresh tears spilled over. “I don't know how to do this without her. I don't know how to exist in a world where she just... isn't.”
The raw honesty in his voice made my chest tight with helplessness. I pulled him against me, wrapping my arms around him like I could somehow hold all his broken pieces together through sheer force of will. He collapsed into me, fingers fisting in my shirt like I was the only solid thing left in a world that had just proven how fragile everything could be.
“You don't have to figure it out tonight,” I whispered into his hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Tonight, you just have to breathe.”
“I can't.” His voice was muffled against my chest, but I felt every word like a physical blow. “How am I supposed to breathe when she can't?”
“Because she'd want you to.” I tightened my hold on him, letting my own tears fall into his hair. “Because Anna Harrington didn't raise a son who gave up when the world got dark. She raised someone who finds light even when everything else is burning.”
For a moment, we just stood there in the wreckage of what used to be safety, holding each other while the world fell apart around us. My wolf was silent for once, understanding that this wasn't about pack bonds or supernatural politics. This was about love and loss and the terrible mathematics of grief.
“I need to sit with her,” Nate finally said, voice steadier but still fragile as spun glass. “I need to... I need to say goodbye.”
I wanted to stay. Wanted to hold him until the grief stopped tearing him apart from the inside. But love sometimes meant knowing when someone needed space to fall apart without an audience.
“Okay,” I said, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “But you're not alone in this. When you're ready, we'll be here.”
Michael finally moved from where he'd been frozen by the window, crossing to kneel beside his wife's body with movements that looked like they hurt. Father and son, keeping vigil over a woman who'd deserved better than to die afraid in her own home.
Dad touched my shoulder, gentle pressure that carried decades of understanding about grief.
We left them there, father and son keeping vigil over a woman who'd been the heart of their small family. The walk back felt like a funeral march, each step carrying me further from the boy I loved and deeper into a war that had already cost us more than we could afford to lose.
But for those few minutes, I'd been able to hold him. I'd been able to remind him that he wasn't alone, that grief shared was grief that could be survived.
It would have to be enough. For now, it would have to be enough.
30
ASHES UNDER THE MOON
NATE
Dad sat across from me at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a coffee mug that had gone cold hours ago, staring at absolutely nothing.
