Chapter 21 #3
That night, all of us sit together in the parking lot outside the club. Our physical wounds have already been cleaned, stitched, and wrapped in bandages. What remains are the wounds no medicine can truly heal. Emotional scars. Shock. Grief that still feels too heavy to carry.
Harlow, Mr. Moris, Julius, Jo, and I gather in silence to hold a mourning prayer ritual. The night sky above us is unusually clear. No clouds. Only the pale half moon hanging low above the horizon, silver light spilling across the cracked asphalt.
Using saltwater mixed with silver powder, I draw circles and ancient runes across the parking lot ground. Candles burn around the magic circle, their flames calm despite the cold night wind. In the center, we place flowers, treasured belongings, and handwritten letters meant for the dead.
Inside the spellbook I inherited from Mrs. Geeny, I found the mourning ritual earlier. Its purpose is simple. To guide the spirits of fallen wolves back to the Moon Goddess.
The ritual doesn’t summon the dead or bind them to this world. It only offers light for the journey home, while bringing peace to those left behind.
Ideally, the ceremony is meant to be held after burial, directly in front of a gravestone. But tonight, we have no graves to kneel before. Instead, we use the belongings they left behind as anchors connecting us to their spirits.
Soft crying echoes around the circle. No one speaks loudly. Only whispers, prayers, and ancient chants drift into the night air. I lower my head and close my eyes.
“Farewell, Alpha Romero. Mr. Pascoe. Mrs. Geeny.” My voice trembles despite my effort to steady it. “May our spirits find each other again in the next life.”
* * *
“Why not?” I ask Mr. Moris.
“Alexa, you oughta understand by now why me and the other rogues chose this life.” Mr. Moris exhales sharply, speaking in one long breath while leaning back in his chair. “We didn’t build another pack, didn’t join one either, and sure as hell never dreamed about it. We’re done with pack wars.”
“I understand that.” Frustration tightens in my chest as I stare at everyone gathered in front of me. “But I’m not asking you to join a pack. I’m asking for help to stop him. For the Goddess’ sake!”
After the mourning ritual, all of us gather on the first floor of the club. Upstairs, the women and children finally sleep after hours of panic and crying. Down here, though, nobody rests.
No music plays tonight. No drunken laughter echoes across the club. No crowd gathers around the ring demanding another strip performance. The entire place feels hollow now, filled only with exhausted faces and stubborn silence.
Harlow and I stand across from Mr. Moris and several rogue groups who either work here or are regular customers. Every single one of them watches us with caution, their expressions tight with unease.
“Mr. Moris,” Harlow tries again despite the exhaustion dragging heavily across his face. His missing arm remains wrapped tightly beneath fresh bandages. “You’ve got connections everywhere. Rogues, shifters, half-giants, I even heard you’ve got dragon friends.”
Mr. Moris says nothing.
“Help us with a hundred fighters. Hell, even ten would help,” Harlow continues. “We still got a chance to kill Alastair before he becomes unstoppable.”
Mr. Moris shakes his head. “You’re basing that on what you saw earlier tonight,” he mutters. “By now, he’s probably already using the people left in Silver Moon for more sacrifices.” His jaw tightens. “It’s too late. We oughta focus on evacuating the east.”
“That’s exactly why it isn’t too late,” I argue. “The stronger he gets, the harder he’ll be to stop. If we wait any longer, nobody survives this. Human weapons won’t do a damn thing against dark magic like his.”
A few rogues shift uncomfortably, but nobody answers.
“Doesn’t this affect your lives too?” I press harder. “What about innocent people outside the packs? We can’t just abandon everyone.”
Several rogues snort under their breath. “What innocent people?” one of them mutters.
Mr. Moris folds his arms. “Where were those innocent folks when we needed help? Humans destroy forests, poison rivers, and kill each other over greed every damn day.”
“And it’ll get even worse if they discover creatures like us because Alastair tears the world apart.” I force myself to stay calm despite the anger building in my throat. “Listen to me. I still believe in the Moon Goddess’s prophecy. We can still defeat him, and we need your help.”
Silence follows. Most of the rogues avoid my eyes. Some stare at the floor. Others pretend to focus on their drinks. Nobody wants to carry the weight of another war.
Mr. Moris only lights another cigarette, his expression cold and distant beneath the smoke curling around him. Finally, he speaks.
“I ain’t helping you fight Alpha Alastair. By now, he’s probably already becoming the Dark Ruler’s vessel.” He crushes the cigarette into the ashtray. “But if y’all wanna evacuate people to First Light Pack, I can help with that. There’s an abandoned train station not far from here.”
Without another word, he stands and walks toward his office. Jo hurries after him, glancing back at us with conflicted eyes before disappearing down the hallway.