The preparations for Marcus's funeral ceremony enveloped the pack in a somber hush. Ancient traditions required three days of preparation before we could lay our Alpha to rest, and I found myself immersed in the rituals I'd studied since childhood but never expected to perform so soon.
I watched Raymond move through his father's quarters, his grief evident in the slump of his shoulders and the shadows beneath his eyes. Despite everything that had happened between us, I felt a complicated mixture of emotions—anger at his betrayal mingled with pity for his manipulation.
"These were my father's favorite ceremonial items," Raymond said, his voice hollow as he handed me a wooden box containing silver ritual objects. "He always said you understood the old ways better than anyone."
Our fingers
