Chapter 10
Day twelve.
The compound walls were breached.
Turned wolves poured in through the gaps, their corrupted bodies twisted beyond recognition—spines elongated, jaws split open, eyes leaking black fluid.
The few remaining pack members fought, but they were weak, dehydrated, half-mad with fear.
Dominic didn't help them.
He sat in the watchtower, the highest point of the compound, and watched his pack die below.
Not with satisfaction. Not with justice.
With nothing.
He felt nothing anymore.
The system spoke. "Shadow Plague has reached 95% saturation. Estimated complete territorial collapse: 48 hours."
Dominic traced the photo in his hands.
"Elara," he murmured to the empty air. "I used to think I was protecting you. Making the hard choices so you didn't have to suffer them. That's what I told myself."
He let out a breath that might have been a laugh or a sob.
"But the truth is, I never saw you. Not really. You were always there—always fighting, always sacrificing, always coming back bloody and broken—and I'd patch you up and send you out again without asking how you felt. Without asking if you were scared. Without asking if you needed me to fight beside you instead of behind you."
He pressed the photo to his chest.
"And Serena... she didn't even have to try hard. She just cried, and I dropped everything. Because her pain was loud and yours was quiet. You never cried. You never begged. You just kept giving until there was nothing left."
His voice broke.
"I punished you for being strong. And rewarded her for being weak. What kind of man does that?"
Below, a wolf screamed—a sound that cut off abruptly.
"I remember now," he said. "The photo. What made you laugh. It was—you'd just gotten back from the Eastern border. Three days without sleep. Covered in blood. And Marcus made some stupid joke about your hair looking like a bird's nest. And you laughed. You laughed, and I thought—" He swallowed. "I thought, 'She's incredible. How does she still laugh after everything?'"
He touched my face in the photo.
"And then Serena walked in, and I forgot about you completely. I introduced them. I left you standing there while I walked away with her. And you—" His voice cracked. "You just smiled and said 'have fun' and went to debrief alone. Didn't even complain."
The watchtower shook. Something massive was climbing it—a turned Alpha, perhaps. The structure groaned.
"I don't deserve to say your name," he whispered. "But I'm going to, anyway. Because you deserve to be the last word on my lips. Not her. Never her again."
The compound walls were breached.
Turned wolves poured in through the gaps, their corrupted bodies twisted beyond recognition—spines elongated, jaws split open, eyes leaking black fluid.
The few remaining pack members fought, but they were weak, dehydrated, half-mad with fear.
Dominic didn't help them.
He sat in the watchtower, the highest point of the compound, and watched his pack die below.
Not with satisfaction. Not with justice.
With nothing.
He felt nothing anymore.
The system spoke. "Shadow Plague has reached 95% saturation. Estimated complete territorial collapse: 48 hours."
Dominic traced the photo in his hands.
"Elara," he murmured to the empty air. "I used to think I was protecting you. Making the hard choices so you didn't have to suffer them. That's what I told myself."
He let out a breath that might have been a laugh or a sob.
"But the truth is, I never saw you. Not really. You were always there—always fighting, always sacrificing, always coming back bloody and broken—and I'd patch you up and send you out again without asking how you felt. Without asking if you were scared. Without asking if you needed me to fight beside you instead of behind you."
He pressed the photo to his chest.
"And Serena... she didn't even have to try hard. She just cried, and I dropped everything. Because her pain was loud and yours was quiet. You never cried. You never begged. You just kept giving until there was nothing left."
His voice broke.
"I punished you for being strong. And rewarded her for being weak. What kind of man does that?"
Below, a wolf screamed—a sound that cut off abruptly.
"I remember now," he said. "The photo. What made you laugh. It was—you'd just gotten back from the Eastern border. Three days without sleep. Covered in blood. And Marcus made some stupid joke about your hair looking like a bird's nest. And you laughed. You laughed, and I thought—" He swallowed. "I thought, 'She's incredible. How does she still laugh after everything?'"
He touched my face in the photo.
"And then Serena walked in, and I forgot about you completely. I introduced them. I left you standing there while I walked away with her. And you—" His voice cracked. "You just smiled and said 'have fun' and went to debrief alone. Didn't even complain."
The watchtower shook. Something massive was climbing it—a turned Alpha, perhaps. The structure groaned.
"I don't deserve to say your name," he whispered. "But I'm going to, anyway. Because you deserve to be the last word on my lips. Not her. Never her again."