Broken Heart

58 He's gone

David's POV

The morning Kevin left for battle, a cold dread settled over me, a premonition that something terrible was about to happen. His forced casualness, his lingering hugs, the way his family looked at him – it all felt wrong, like a final farewell. I tried to shake it off, to tell myself it was just nerves, the fear that always accompanied a battle. But my inner wolf, usually a source of strength and reassurance, was restless, agitated, her presence a low, mournful hum beneath my skin.

Then, the news came, it was delivered by Liam, Kevin's beta, his face pale and grief-stricken. He spoke of the battle, the ferocity of the rogues, the bravery of our warriors, and then... the words that shattered my world. "Alpha Kevin... he fell in battle. He's gone."

I remember staring at him, the words echoing in my ears, but refusing to penetrate my mind. "No," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "No, that's not true. That's not possible."

Liam's eyes were filled with pain. "Luna, I wish it weren't true. But it is. We couldn't find him . We couldn't... we couldn't find him."

I refused to believe it. My inner wolf roared in protest, a primal scream of denial. He's alive! He's out there! I clung to that feeling, that instinct, with every fiber of my being. I organized search parties, sending warriors to scour the battlefield, the surrounding forests, every inch of territory where he might have been. For three days, we searched, tirelessly, desperately, clinging to the hope that we would find him, that he would come back to me, to our children.

But on the fourth day, something shifted. My inner wolf fell silent. The roaring defiance, the desperate hope, was gone, replaced by a hollow, aching emptiness. It was as if she had given up, as if she had accepted the unthinkable. And that devastated me more than anything. If my own wolf, my connection to Kevin, couldn't feel him anymore, what hope was there. Yet, even then, a stubborn ember of disbelief remained. I couldn't accept it. I wouldn't. My mate, my husband, the father of my children, couldn't just be gone. Not like that. Not without a trace.

The pack mourned. They grieved for their  Alpha, their leader, their protector. Our families, both mine and Kevin's, were shattered. My parents were inconsolable, their grief a mirror of my own. Kevin's parents were devastated, their stoic facades crumbling under the weight of their loss. They cried, they raged, they mourned the child they had lost.

His siblings, Michael, stella, and even Chris, were heartbroken.

Michael, usually so composed and reserved, was a shell of himself, his face etched with a pain that mirrored my own. Stella, normally so vibrant and strong, was pale and withdrawn, her laughter silenced by grief. Chris, always the stoic outsider, was surprisingly affected, his grief a quiet, brooding presence.

But I refused to join them in their mourning. I couldn't. It felt like a betrayal, a betrayal of Kevin, a betrayal of the love we shared. I wouldn't let them bury him, because I knew, deep down, that he wasn't dead. He couldn't be.
Then came the letter.

It was found in Kevin's things, in his private chambers in the pack meeting room, a place he rarely used. It was addressed to Michael, his elder brother, and it laid out Kevin's wishes in the event of his... his death. He had written that if anything happened to him, Michael was to assume the role of Alpha and take over as CEO of Walton Enterprises. And his own company, Larva Enterprises, the company he had built in secret, was to be placed under my control as CEO, with Stella as my COO, to help me.

Reading those words, written in Kevin's own hand, was like a knife to the heart. It wasn't the finality of death that devastated me, but the fact that he had even considered the possibility. He had known the battle was dangerous, that he might not come back, and yet he had still gone. He had left me, our children, our life together, knowing the risk.

Rage warred with grief, a bitter cocktail of emotions that threatened to consume me. How could he do this to me? How could he leave me with this burden, this uncertainty, this endless, agonizing wait?

Michael, bless his heart, refused to believe Kevin was dead. He refused to accept the letter as a final farewell. He wouldn't take over as Alpha, and he hesitated to take over the company. He said that until we had proof, until we had a body, he would not accept that his brother was gone.

My father-in-law, Mr. Walton, eventually convinced him. He said that even if Kevin was alive, the pack and the company needed leadership, someone to guide them through this difficult time. He said that Michael didn't have to accept the title, but he had to take responsibility, to step up and fill the void that Kevin had left. And so, Michael reluctantly agreed. He became the acting Alpha, the temporary head of the Walton Empire, but he never stopped searching for his brother. He never gave up hope.

I, too, refused to give up. I threw myself into my work at Larva Enterprises, the company Kevin had entrusted to me. It was a way to feel close to him, to honor his memory, to keep his legacy alive. But it was also a way to keep myself busy, to distract myself from the pain, the uncertainty, the endless, agonizing wait. I worked tirelessly, learning the intricacies of the business, making decisions, leading the company with a strength I didn't know I possessed. I was good at it, surprisingly so. It was as if Kevin had known, had seen a potential in me that I hadn't seen in myself.

But even as I built a new life, a life without Kevin, I never stopped searching for him. I clung to the hope, the stubborn belief that he was still out there, somewhere, waiting for me to find him. I knew, deep down, that our story wasn't over. That we were destined to be together, no matter what.