DEREK
I remember the exact moment my father died.
Not when I found out—when it happened. I didn’t know then, of course, but looking back, there was a sudden weight that settled in the air that day, like the wind itself knew something had shifted.
Something in the bond between us snapped.
We were out near the training fields. Me, Joe, and Brock. It was one of those late summer afternoons where the sun stays too long and the grass smells like fire. We’d been sparring, half-heartedly, mostly laughing.
Joe had just gone down with a dramatic groan, and Brock was trying to drag him off the mat by one ankle when I heard the distant howl.
It wasn’t grief. Not yet. It was a summons. A call I’d heard my father use dozens of times—low, clipped, precise.
I stood up straighter before I even und
