Chapter 43 The Funeral

• The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the clearing where the funeral pyre stood. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the raw energy of the pack. The crackling fire illuminated the faces of those gathered, their expressions a mixture of sorrow and determination. Ashton stepped forward, his presence commanding silence from the crowd. His dark and intense eyes scanned the faces before him, lingering briefly on mine.
• "We gather here tonight," Ashton began, his voice steady and resonant, "to honour the life of John, a brother, a friend, and a loyal member of our pack. He was taken from us too soon; his life was cut short by the cruelty of fate. But we must remember him for the strength he showed, the loyalty he embodied, and the love he shared with us all."
• A murmur of agreement rippled through the pack. I glanced at Joel, who stood a few feet away. He caught my gaze and tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly looked away, focusing on Ashton as he continued his speech.