Parker's POV
I never thought grief could make the air feel so thick, so heavy that even breathing hurt. I stood there, frozen, as the last bit of soil was thrown over his casket. My mate. My confidante. My secret.
The pack didn't know. Not really. They saw him as my best friend, my confidante, my second-in-command. But he was more than that. He was the only person who knew me completely. He knew the weight of being young and an Alpha. He knew everything about me, including the way I hated pretending to be something I wasn't. And he loved me anyway.
And now he is gone.
No one really knew the truth. Not even the beta. To the rest of the world, he was just my closest friend, my second-in-command. Always beside me, loyal to the end. But behind closed doors, behind the masks we wore every day, we were much more than that.
He was my other half.
Rogues had attacked suddenly, and I watched it happen—watched him get torn open. I was frozen. Too shocked. Too scared. Maybe too late. My wolf had screamed to reach him, but my body didn't move in time. I saw life leave his eyes before I could do anything.
Now the earth covered him.
My hands curled into fists. I tried to breathe, but the air felt like it was choking me. I felt like I was losing my mind. My chest tightened. My heart thumped too hard. I pressed a hand to my chest like it would help hold me together.
The funeral was packed. Everyone came. But it all felt fake. The speeches. The nods. The soft sobs of people who never really knew him. They didn't know how he slept with one hand always on my chest, like he was afraid I'd disappear in the night. They didn't know how we promised to run away one day. Somewhere no one would know we were mates.
Now, he's the one who ran.
Everyone started leaving, one by one. I didn't move. I couldn't. I stared at the freshly dug grave like maybe, just maybe, if I stared hard enough, he'd climb out and say it was all a joke. That he was still here. That I wasn't alone.
But he didn't.
The sky looked like it was mourning with me. Heavy clouds, dark and full, hung low like they wanted to cry too. The scent of wet soil and death filled my nose. The others had all left. The pack members. The elders. Even the rogues who had been captured had been taken away. But I was still there, frozen.
My knees were soaked from kneeling on the wet grass, and my hands were shaking. Not from the cold, but from something deeper. Something I couldn't explain. Pain. Loss. Guilt.
They had just buried him.
Mario.
My mate.
I was in deep thoughts that I couldn't even hear the footsteps behind me until a voice broke through the silence.
"He must have meant a lot to you," he said.
The voice was soft, gentle. Not like the usual commands I got from my warriors or the fake politeness of the council.
I turned slightly and saw him—Padre Sergio. The priest who had done the ceremony. Young, clean-shaven, soft brown curls, kind eyes. He looked out of place among wolves. Too calm. Too peaceful. Too... pure. He was tall, lean but strong. Dressed in black, simple but elegant. His voice was soft. Calm. And his eyes were the kind that made you feel like he already knew what was hurting inside you.
"He was my everything," I said without thinking.
The priest nodded. He didn't say sorry. He didn't offer me any of those useless words people throw around when they don't know what else to say. He just stood there with me.
"I'm Padre Sergio Vito," he said. "I officiated the burial."
I gave a small nod. "Parker."
He already knew who I was, obviously. The future ruling Alpha of Lanville Pack. Everyone knew. But it felt right to introduce myself anyway.
We sat there in silence again. It was strange, but comforting. He didn't ask me to leave. He didn't rush me. Just stood there like a calm presence.