Shifters - The King of Wolves - Book 1

CHAPTER 62 - THE GARDEN OF GRIEF

My fingers traced the soft petals of the white rose in my hand, its delicate surface calming my mind, even if just for a moment. As always, the plants brought me peace. But today, despite being surrounded by greenery and flowers, a tear managed to escape, tracing a cold line down my cheek. I wiped it quickly, casting my gaze around the greenhouse.

Leaves rustled softly in the light breeze coming through the open windows, while bees buzzed around the dozens of flowers. It made me think of the simple life I once had back home, a life that felt like it belonged to another world. The feeling was comforting, yet even those memories couldn't protect me from the heavy pain pressing on my chest.

Today was my father's funeral, along with the other fallen pack members. I had to say goodbye to someone I never wanted to lose. But how do you let go when every part of you wants to hold on?

Even though the plants couldn't shield me from the grief that stirred within me like poison, they gave me something to focus on, a task to keep my hands busy.

I moved across the room, my eyes landing on the flowers that filled the space. I was looking for something, though I wasn't sure what. I needed a flower, something that would represent what I was feeling, something that would fit into the bouquet I was making.

I paused, my gaze fixed on a cluster of pink carnations. I remembered their meaning. They spoke of gratitude and memories that would never fade.

I reached for the shears in my pocket and cut the stems before adding them to the growing bouquet in my hands. This was more than just picking flowers or seeking peace, it was my way of showing the pack that I cared.

The weight of guilt grew heavier with each passing moment, as though I had abandoned the pack. As their Luna, I was meant to lead, to comfort and guide them through their pain. But instead, I had hidden from them, consumed by my own grief while they silently bore theirs. I hadn't been there when they needed me the most.

I had feared the worst when I stepped out this morning, anticipating disdain and disappointment in the eyes of the pack. Yet instead, they welcomed me with warm smiles, their kindness overwhelming in its sincerity. Some had even offered their condolences. It touched me deeply, yet at the same time, it deepened the guilt that already clung to me.

Egon had tried to reassure me, reminding me that I needed to care for myself first before I could help anyone else. But even his words didn't erase the feeling that I had let the pack down. There was something inside me, a compelling need, urging me to show the pack that I was there for them, that I hadn't abandoned them in their time of need.

It was why I woke up early this morning to collect flowers, crafting a bouquet for the families of the fallen warriors. Each flower I picked was chosen with care, its meaning intended to honour their loved ones.

I looked down at the bouquet in my hands, the pink carnations stood out against the white roses, their delicate petals creating a soft contrast. The roses spoke of pure, untainted love, while the lilies at the centre of the bouquet symbolised peace and letting go of what was too sacred to hold on to.

The arrangement was starting to take shape, yet something still felt missing. I paused, my gaze wandering across the greenhouse. The warm sunlight filtered through the glass, casting a soft glow on the plants that surrounded me. My eyes landed on a small cluster of forget-me-nots, their tiny blue petals spoke of a promise that someone would never be forgotten. It was perfect.

I grabbed a small stool to reach the flowers perched on the upper shelves of the greenhouse. I lifted the hem of my black dress to avoid tripping and climbed up. Balancing on my toes, I carefully cut the stems and added them to the flowers already in my hand.