Chapter 166: The Grief He Never Buried
"Emma, thank you," she said, fingers tightening around the device. "For agreeing to give me the keys."
"Don’t thank me yet." She folded her arms and tilted her head. "I might still change my mind."
Silence lingered between them before she ended the call.
She typed a text and forwarded it to Faith immediately. Brooklyn grabbed her hand as they walked towards Brandon and Ken. Ken lifted Emma gently and lowered her onto his beach mat. Brooklyn joined Brandon and leaned on his chest to make her jealous. With that sexy wear of hers, Emma was very jealous already.
"Have you told Emily and Ashley about your pregnancy?" Ken whispered into her ear. She smiled and shook her head.
"Why?"
"I will tell them after the royal mating ceremony."
"Alright," he said and kissed her forehead.
Jealousy began to eat deep into Emma as she looked at Brooklyn and Brandon. She couldn’t stand it anymore when she began to whisper something into his ear too, and they kept cracking up.
"That’s enough," she stood up and gestured to Brooklyn. They burst into laughter. Brooklyn joined her mate and Emma took her place.
"Hope you enjoyed your fans," Brandon teased.
Emma dragged a hand down her face and groaned softly. "I should’ve covered my face the second you handed me that glass."
He laughed under his breath. "You’re stubborn, you know that?"
She leaned in and gave his shoulder a quick bite.
"Hey." He jerked away with a grin, rubbing the spot. "You’re really trying to make my life hard. Maybe you should go back to Ken."
"No way." She bumped her shoulder against his arm and smiled.
They stretched out on separate mats and watched the moon sink slowly beyond the white sand beach. Silver light danced across the water while the waves rolled in soft and steady. Emma stayed quiet, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She didn’t think she could ever get tired of this place.
Ken kept them laughing the entire time. Every few minutes another joke flew out of his mouth, and even Brandon had to shake his head at some of them.
Later, they wandered along the beach while the cool wind pushed at their clothes. Emma stopped every few steps to take pictures. The waves. The clouds glowing under the fading moonlight. The bandshells near the shore. The resting den tucked beside the palms. Wolves walking barefoot across the sand. Little pups crouched over crooked sand castles.
"You really look like a tourist," Ken said.
Emma lowered her camera and laughed with the others.
By the time moon settled in, they were sprawled in front of an outdoor projector with blankets tossed across the sand. An old ocean-themed nineteen-nineties movie flickered across the screen in deep vintage colors while the waves crashed softly behind them.
Emma rested against Brandon’s chest, his arm loose around her waist.
But every now and then her smile faded. Brooklyn’s face slipped back into her mind. The royal mating ceremony. The goodbye is waiting at the end of it.
Her throat tightened. She quickly wiped under her eyes before anyone noticed.
She would’ve loved to see Brooklyn off at the skyport the next moonrise, but the flight was set to take off at 4:45 a.m.—long before the moon ever rose.
**************
On Monday moonrise, Emma sat in the study chamber with her legs tucked under her chair, typing away at her story. The study stayed quiet except for the soft tapping of her fingers against the keys. Brandon had already left for his duty chamber.
She paused to reread a line, then slowly lifted her head—
And nearly jumped out of her skin.
Mr. Richard stood behind the door with a smile on his face.
Emma pressed a hand to her chest and let out a shaky laugh. "Oh, my Moon Goddess. You scared me."
"I’m sorry, my dear. How are you holding up?" he asked, voice soft.
"I’m fine," Emma said without looking up.
"And Thalia?"
"I just dropped her off at the academy."
"With that old car of yours?" He gave a small smirk, eyes drifting away before it faded into a faint frown. "Still surprises me she rides with you. You know she likes expensive things."
Emma’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. "I’m sorry I can’t give her that kind of life."
He exhaled through his nose and shook his head once..
"Honestly, Mr. Richard... if you really want to move on, you should get rid of that car." His gaze flicked toward the window. "Every time you see it, you go back there."
"I can’t get rid of it," he said flatly. A slow shake followed, final.
Emma looked up. "Why?"
Mr. Richard didn’t answer.
The chamber went quiet. Emma’s pen stopped moving across the page.
Her chair scraped softly as she leaned forward. "Please... tell me."
He pulled the chair out with a slow drag and sat. Hands rested on his knees, eyes fixed somewhere far off.
"It belonged to my father," he said.
Another beat passed
"What I’m about to tell you..." His jaw tightened slightly. "It happened forty-one winters ago. I was nine."
A mother in our packhood went into labor. No one was home to take her to the healing den except me.
I called an emergency. Sat by the door. I watched the clock drag. An hour passed. Nothing.
She bent over in pain, holding the wall.
I tried calling again. Again. Nothing.
Then I saw my father’s car in the garage.
My feet moved before I thought. I grabbed the keys from the hook and ran back out.
"Come on," I muttered, helping her up.
She leaned on me all the way to the car.
I shoved the keys in, hands shaking. I turned it in.
Nothing.
I tried again. And again.
The engine stayed dead.
Behind me, she cried out sharp—then went quiet for a second.
A small sound broke through—thin, fragile, like it didn’t belong there.
I froze.
I turned slowly.
Blood spread across the ground. Too much of it.
My legs gave out.
I dropped beside the car, yelling for help, pointing back at her like some wolf could undo it.
Minutes later, the emergency team arrived.
Boots on gravel. Voices everywhere. Hands moving fast.
They covered her. Lifted her.
But she didn’t make it to the healing den.
After that, I didn’t speak for days.
My father just stood there one evening, keys in his hand.
Said I’d learn to drive after my fourteenth birth moon.
Five winters later, he kept his promise. He taught me how to drive—but only up and down our pack.
The pup born in that car turned five that same winter.
Every Sunday, I’d take her out just that short stretch and back again. She started waiting by the door before I even grabbed the keys.
Pressed her hands on the window when I parked.
"Again," she’d say, every time.
So I did.
A small grin tugged at his mouth. "Over time... she got attached to that car. And somehow, we became part of each other’s routine."
"Moonmates, I guess."
Emma’s brows lifted slightly. "Where is she now?"
The grin faded before it finished forming.
"She died last winter."
Emma’s breath caught. "Thalia’s mother?"
He nodded.
His hand came up, brushing quickly under his eye. Another tear slipped anyway.
"I still feel her in there," he said quietly, eyes fixed on nothing.
Silence settled.
Emma looked down fast, blinking hard. Her fingers curled into her lap as she tried to steady her breathing.
"I’m sorry," she murmured with a flat tone.
"It’s okay, a he-wolf is here to see you."
She ignored him and continued wiping her eyes, but the tears refused to stop. He kept quiet too and kept staring at her.
"Who is he?" She whimpered after a while.
"One of the visitors’ administrators. They have been trying to reach you but you are not replying to their notification."
"Where is he?"
"He is in the lounge," Mr Richard responded, but Emma didn’t say anything. She was still sad about the story he had just told.
She looked at her communication device that was on the table and pulled it closer. She muted her notifications to avoid distractions. She checked the notification they sent to her.
"Another publishing company? No, I don’t want to see them." she slammed the decline option immediately.
"Why?"
"I’ll make my choice when I’m ready."
"Alright," he grinned and pushed back from the desk.
She looked up at him. Something flickered in her chest, then sank just as fast. She rose after him, slower this time, and stepped out of the study chamber for a while.
The door clicked shut behind her.
For a moment, she just stood in the hallway.
Quiet pressed in from all sides. Her fingers drifted toward her stomach without her thinking.
"What if...
Her throat tightened.
Her communication device buzzed.
She glanced at the screen, then blinked.
The surprise showed on her face before she could hide it.
"Emma... are you alone?"
She straightened slowly. "Yeah."
A voice crackled through the device, lower
this time.
"Good. I’m coming over." A pause. "Time to let the cat out of the bag."
Her fingers tightened around the device.
The line went dead.
She didn’t move.
The device almost slipped in her hand as she hurried back to study.
