The Golden Prodigies

Chapter 65

A day of funerals. A day of sorrow, tears, and memories. Throughout the evening, The city hall held many funerals for the werewolves who lost their lives in the war.

After families and friends paid their respects, all wolves were cremated. It was the rule that werewolves had to follow. They couldn't risk humans digging up a casket with an abnormally large wolf wrapped inside. Most loved ones turned their ashes into jewellery or something that was special to their wolf ranks, pack, or family.

When the Jones and Raysons returned home, they changed out of their formal clothing. Hunter felt restricted in smart trousers and a shirt. He wondered how the vampires wore that sort of stuff every day.

"You don't have to change though," he said to Jacota when they entered their bedroom. The day had been very emotional, but they spent hours celebrating the life their loved ones had, instead of feeling upset about the life they lost. Hunter, at least, now had closure. "You always look good in a shirt."

Jacota smiled as Hunter tugged on his tie, pulling him closer. The werewolf eyed his Gods muscles that threatened to rip the back of his shirt if he moved at an odd angle.

When their chests touched, Jacota ran hands down his husband's arms. "It has been a long day."

Hunter nodded. His grandparents had a lovely send off. William made a compilation of recent videos and pictures of Flora and Alfred and showed it on a big slideshow for everyone to see. It brought a lot of tears, but a lot of smiles. Hunter had cried so much throughout the day; he was confident his tears could fill a bath.

"Want a shower?"

"Yes." Jacota reached to Hunter's neck and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. "Then you can spend some time with your parents and Sam. You need each other."

Hunter's face hardened. Jacota was right. "I know that now is not the time to hold a grudge, especially after losing people, but I don't think I can forgive them."

"You don't have to," Jacota said in the soft tone he used when speaking about sensitive subjects. "You don't have to forgive them yet. They won't expect you to. Though you can't keep ignoring each other. The problem won't just go away."

Hunter lifted a hand and rested it against his mates face, studying the eyes he knew so well. Their shape, colour, expression, he could make a replica of Jacota's face without looking at references. "I'll talk to them."

Jacota peeled off his shirt. The atmosphere in the house had started to get awkward when Hunter, Sam, Anthony, and Margo were in the same room. Nobody needed it, not when everyone tried so hard to go back to normal.

The blood was washed away from the field. The grass was ruined, but it would grow again. The kitchen's windows were replaced, so was the utensils that had smashed or broke.

"Jay?" Hunter questioned when they led each other into the shower. "You blocked your feelings today when dad mentioned Grace." Anthony had made a speech, explaining what happened to the wolves who were not a part of the war. Jacota should have done it, but he couldn't bring himself to explain about his mother. He felt too ashamed.

"I can't decide how I feel about her. I shouldn't feel sad. I shouldn't feel guilty or any empathetic emotion. I wanted her ashes, but I didn't."

Hunter listened while squeezing soap onto his hands. "I don't think you want to remember her as the monster she was. She's your mother. You wouldn't be standing here without her which is why you feel guilty about not cremating her. It's hard to break family bonds, and there's still a small part of you that's human. It's normal to feel so conflicted."