ALPHA CORVIN
Every full moon since she died had always been unbearably hard to endure alone.
Twelve full moons and twelve long agonizing months of suffering in complete silence. Twelve months of actively denying that her death hurt me as deeply as it did because accepting that overwhelming pain would mean accepting that my twenty-five years with Zoya meant absolutely nothing in the end.
I could not accept that truth. I refused to let it be meaningless.
Twenty-five years of my life. Two sons. A partnership that had built this pack into what it was today.
Glancing through my bedroom window staring at the full moon which was just starting to form in the darkening sky, rising slowly and inevitably above the dense tree line that surrounded the estate, and my wolf was already howling desperately from deep inside my chest because it wanted its mate.
Its mate that was already dead and gone and never coming back to us.
