For a full day and night, Connor sat in my room, completely still, staring at my diary. He didn’t eat or drink. It seemed he was finally beginning to truly see me for the first time.
When my words spoke of joy, he laughed. When they whispered of sorrow, his eyes darkened, rimmed with red
And by the time he reached the final page, he finally realized just how much I had loved him–how much of my happiness had revolved around him and how much of my suffering had been caused by him.
Connor curled up on the floor, holding the diary close, pressing desperate kisses against its cover as if it were my face.
“Clara, I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I regret it so much. Please… Please come back to me… Come back to me, will you?”
I sat beside him, emotionless, watching his agony unfold.
What use was regret? Could regret bring me back to life?
No. I wouldn’t be moved by a murderer’s tears.
The next day, Connor gathered the merchants who had traveled with us the night Belinda vanished and questioned them
And when Connor learned that I had not deliberately abandoned Belinda, but that she had lagged behind out of petty spite because of the mule cart, his fury burned bright and unforgiving
He ordered his men to bring Belinda in and had her forcibly restrained.
His claws found her flesh, tearing deep, leaving her bloodied and broken. Connor towered over her, his voice ringing with cold
authority. “Belinda, you slandered Luna and caused her tragic death. Do you understand your crime?”
Belinda begged for mercy, her throat hoarse from all the shouting. She slowly realized that her words were futile. No argument, no plea, could sway Connor from his course–he would kill her.
At that thought, she stopped resisting. Looking at the cold, heartless Alpha before her, her lips curled into something bitter,
something hollow. She laughed. “You think blaming everything on me will fix things? You think killing me will wash away your
sins?
“It won’t work, Connor. You know that better than anyone. The one who truly killed Clara… was
you!”
Belinda was executed, and her death was even more brutal–far more agonizing than mine had been. And yet, I felt no
satisfaction from it.
She had spoken the truth before she died. The one who had truly killed me wasn’t her. It was Connor.
+15 BON
After Belinda’s execution, Connor seemed to have lost all purpose in life. He abandoned his duties and spent his days wandering
near the Starlight Pack, hoping to find where I had been buried.
Harold had laid me to rest beside my father, but Connor was never privy to the location.
Connor’s proximity to the pack was a thorn in Harold’s side, and the latter’s disapproval of the former was well–known. But the
respect owed to the Blackclaw Pack’s Alpha meant Harold’s vengeance had to wait.
A month passed.
Having secured the Blackclaw Pack’s tacit agreement about killing Connor, Harold finally made his move. He would end Connor’s
life.
Consumed by despair and neglecting his duties, Connor had become a liability within the pack; his pack was already considering
his replacement.
Assured his actions wouldn’t endanger the Starlight Pack, Harold ended Connor’s life with a single arrow, killing him instantly.
Connor simply crumpled to the earth–lifeless. His soul was instantly released.
As his spirit ascended, it collided with my own, now radiant and transformed.
I looked at my transformed self and realized I no longer had any regrets. I was ready for heaven.
Seeing me, Connor desperately tried to move toward me, wanting to embrace me and confess his remorse and love.
But he painfully realized that I was rising higher and higher, heading toward the warmth of the heavens, while his soul grew heavier, dragged down by unseen hands, pulled into the dark abyss of hell.
I did not care for the sorrow on his face nor his longing. All I saw were my parents, waiting for me in heaven.
I had so much to say to them.
I smiled
This was the beginning of my new life.
