Chapter 89: Picking Up the Pieces
The battlefield lay in ruins around me.
The sharp scent of blood, smoke, and sweat clung to the cool morning air. All around, wolves in various forms limped or staggered through the destruction, searching for loved ones among the fallen. Those who could still move helped carry the wounded to makeshift triage areas near the packhouse. Those who couldn’t…
I forced my gaze away from the still forms that dotted the blood-soaked ground, but it didn’t stop the images from searing into my mind. Wolves I’d laughed with. Children I’d played with. Faces I knew.
Gone.
The ache in my chest was too big, too sharp to contain. It felt like my ribs might snap from the force of it. I dropped to my knees on the torn earth, my hands digging into the cold dirt as silent sobs wracked my body.
This was my fault.
If I had been stronger. If I had convinced Liam and Luther to let me speak to the pack sooner. If I hadn’t waited. Maybe fewer would have died.
A large, warm body pressed against my side, and then another. I didn’t need to look to know it was them—Liam and Luther. Their touch was the only anchor I had left in the storm inside me.
“Charlie…” Liam’s voice was soft, cracking with his own grief.
Luther didn’t say anything, but his arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me gently against his chest, as if trying to shield me from a pain that had already taken root deep inside my soul. I clung to them, burying my face in Luther’s bare chest, feeling the roughness of dried blood and dirt against my skin.
Their hands moved over me, checking, prodding, searching for injuries. I winced as Liam’s fingers grazed a nasty bruise blooming across my ribs.
“Dammit,” Luther growled, low and dangerous, his hand trembling where it hovered over my side.
“We should have protected you better,” Liam muttered, anger and guilt dripping from his words.
“I’m fine,” I rasped, though we all knew it wasn’t true.
Not physically. Not emotionally. And certainly not mentally.
A low growl rumbled from Luther’s chest, vibrating against me. I shifted slightly, realizing then that I was still stark naked, my clothes shredded during the shift and the fight. I caught movement from the corner of my eye—packmates looking toward us, their faces weary, hollow with grief and shock.
Some of their gazes lingered too long.
Before I could even think to cover myself, Luther shifted his body in front of me, his broad back blocking their view. Liam let out a low, warning growl to the surrounding wolves, baring his teeth. The pack quickly found somewhere else to look.
A strangled laugh escaped me, half-hysterical, half-sane.
Trust my mates to be more concerned about my modesty than the bloody battlefield around us. Luther turned, crouching low, and scooped me up into his arms with a tenderness that broke me all over again.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper against my ear.
Liam moved ahead of us, clearing a path through the debris and the dazed survivors. As we passed, I caught glimpses of the wounded being tended to.
Carol—sweet, motherly Carol—sat beside an unconscious warrior, pressing a cloth to his bleeding shoulder with shaking hands.
The Beta’s mate knelt by a child no older than six, her hands stained red as she tried desperately to stop the bleeding from a deep gash across the boy’s side.
Others weren’t as lucky.
Bodies covered in hastily thrown cloaks and jackets littered the edges of the clearing, the grieving howls of family members echoing through the trees.
Each one felt like a knife twisting deeper into my gut. I pressed my face against Luther’s chest, breathing in his scent, grounding myself.
*I will never let this happen again.*
I made that vow in my heart, forging it in the fires of my guilt and grief. Whatever it took—whatever the cost—I would protect them. I would save them.
\---
Liam led us back to the packhouse. The grand structure that once felt so welcoming now looked battered, its walls scarred with claw marks and bloodstains.
Luther carried me up the steps, refusing to let me walk even when I insisted.
Inside, the house was eerily silent. The few who hadn’t fought—elderly wolves, mothers with newborns—peeked out from doorways, their eyes wide with fear and curiosity.
Some gasped when they saw me cradled in Luther’s arms, others looked away quickly, shame written across their faces.
They knew they had left the fight to others. And it weighed on them. Even if it was us that told them to go and hide.
Luther kicked open the door to our shared room, carrying me straight to the bathroom.
He set me down gently on the edge of the massive bathtub, his hands lingering on my hips as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Liam moved around the room, grabbing towels, bandages, and healing salves from the shelves.
They worked in silence, washing the blood and grime from my body with careful hands, checking every inch of me for wounds. The few cuts and bruises I had were quickly cleaned and tended to.
The real wounds—the ones carved into my heart—were another story.
When they were satisfied that I wasn’t going to fall apart physically, they helped me into a clean shirt and shorts, wrapping me up like I was something fragile.
I wasn’t fragile.
I was shattered.
And broken things had sharp edges.
\---
Later that night, after I convinced them I needed air, I slipped out into the gardens.
The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting a silver glow over the battered landscape.
The gardens had once been my sanctuary. Now, even here, the air smelled of blood and sorrow.
I sat on the edge of the broken fountain, running my fingers over the cracks in the stone. The reflection staring back at me from the water was someone I barely recognized.
Hard eyes.
Set jaw.
Determination burning so brightly it nearly scared me.
I heard soft footsteps behind me but didn’t turn. I knew it was Liam and Luther. They didn’t speak, simply settling on either side of me, their bodies warm and solid against mine.
After a long moment, I broke the silence.
“I can’t let this happen again.”
Liam’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. “We’ll train harder,” he said. “Fortify the borders. Strengthen our alliances.”
I shook my head. “No. I mean *me.* I have to be stronger. Smarter. Faster.”
Luther exhaled slowly. “Charlie…”
“I’m serious.” I turned to face them, my heart hammering. “I’m not the scared little Omega they all used to push around anymore. I’m your Luna. I’m *their* Luna.” Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them away. “I have to be someone they can rely on. Someone they can believe in.”
Liam’s jaw tightened, but he nodded.
“We believe in you,” Luther said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”
“And you’re not alone,” Liam added. “We’ll train you ourselves. Harder than anyone else.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
We sat there in silence, the three of us, staring up at the broken sky.
The war wasn’t over.
The disease still lingered. Enemies still lurked beyond our borders. But we had survived this battle. And together, we would survive the next.
Because I wasn’t just fighting for myself anymore. I was fighting for all of them. And I would never back down again.
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