♦ Chapter Twenty ♦

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   súton (n.) || the approach of death or the end of something

) || the approach of death or the end of something

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She was afraid to open her eyes. 

When the silence ensued, she was horrified at what she would see so she prolonged the moment behind her eyelids while she held her breath. It felt calm around her and she inhaled a shuddering breath when her lungs ached for air. At this point, everything within her body ached. 

She felt fur shifting against her bare arms and goosebumps arose in the wake. A wet nose pressed against her cheek and a low whine called to her, almost so inaudible that it couldn't be heard. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. What had felt like an eternity with her eyes closed was only a matter of seconds, tiny seconds that ticked in the change of her life. 

She saw a cloud of smoke floating away from the scene, leaving a sob to crawl its way into her throat. Cross was collapsed on top of her father and neither of them were moving. Her heart lurched painfully and tears obscured her vision. She assumed the worst, her wolf was dead or her father was or both. She almost didn't want to know which one. 

There was movement and she fought through the tears to watch. Cross raised his head, seemingly shaking his head, once, twice, as if his ears were ringing, and then he slowly stood up. He glanced down at her father, shook his fur, and then his brown eyes connected with hers. She inhaled sharply as he walked over to her. For a moment, she relieved that he was alive until her eyes fell to his muzzle and she saw blood. 

Her father's blood. 

She was immobile, frozen to her spot. She didn't even know what she was feeling anymore. There had been so many emotions coursing through her, she felt utterly drained and wanted nothing more than to hide in her bed, wishing this nightmare away. 

Cross nudged her cheek with his nose, probably checking to see if she was okay, and she wasn't. She broke from her reverie and crawled towards her fallen father with a tightened throat. She couldn't describe the feeling coursing through her body as she gazed down at her father. 

He was dead. 

Cross had went for the kill, latching into his throat, and her father's lifeless eyes stared into the sky, his mouth agape in a silent cry for help. She couldn't even sob. Silent tears tore jagged trails down her cheeks and she numbly wrapped her fingers around his. His hand was still warm, the gun laying abandon a few inches away. She shakily reached out with her other hand and gently closed his eyelids. 

How could this happen? 

A few moments ago, her father had been perfectly alive and if her wolves hadn't showed up, she would be wrapped up in his embrace. As she always was. She drew another breath, just barely. Her entire body was in shock and she was ready to succumb to a comforting darkness. 

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