Night wind stirred, bringing the scent of earth and dead grass, and something else—a faint whiff of decay. Finn's grave was in the far corner, an inconspicuous spot. The headstone was small, black marble, carved with just a few simple words:
Finn Blackwood. Birth and death dates.
No epitaph, no flowers, no decoration. Like a forgotten person. Or rather... a family shame.
"Begin," Kayden ordered, his voice cutting through the silence.
The warriors started digging. Shovels bit into earth with dull thuds. One scoop, two, three... dirt piled up beside the grave.
I stood by the headstone, fingers twisted together. The moonlight was cold, so cold I got goosebumps. Time crawled. The scrape of shovels echoed through the night like some eerie rhythm. My breathing grew ragged, palms slick with sweat.
"Alpha." A warrior said suddenly. "We hit it."
Kayden moved to the edge of the grave. I followed.
Looking down—
A corner of a black coffin showed through, wood covered in thick dirt.
"Keep going," Kayden said.
The warriors worked faster. Soon, the entire coffin was exposed.
Kayden jumped into the grave, crouched beside the coffin. He reached out, brushed dirt from the lid. Gentle, like touching something fragile.
"Open it."
The warriors wedged crowbars into the gap between the lid and box.
One heave—
Click.
The lid loosened.
Another heave—
Click.
My heart jumped into my throat.
"One, two, three!"
The warriors pulled together. The lid came free. Heavy wood crashed onto the dirt pile, throwing up a cloud of dust.
Kayden aimed his flashlight inside. The beam cut a bright path through the darkness. Then he froze, motionless like someone had cast a spell on him.
"Alpha?" A warrior asked carefully. "It's..."
Kayden didn't answer. He just slowly stood, climbed out of the grave. His face was ghostly white in the moonlight.
"Empty."
His voice was barely audible.
"The coffin's empty."
My legs gave out. If I hadn't grabbed the headstone, I would've collapsed.
