Third person's POV
Hedwig couldn't speak, but she was wise beyond her years—quiet, helpful, and already versed in basic healing.
Derek wished he could play with her, but time was slipping through his fingers. After eating the fruit she'd given him, he picked up his pen again.
All night, he didn't rest.
He could feel the life Hedwig had breathed into him fading. His senses were dulling again.
But the will was done. Now, he only wanted to write letters—to Tabitha, to his kids, Kyrian, Helios and Ayla.
The poison was moving faster than it should've. Every letter cost him energy, accelerating the venom's grip.
First, he wrote to Kyrian. "Be a good man. Lead the pack with your heart, not just your claws."
Derek's chest ached. He'd failed Kyrian, leaving him to shoulder the pack's weight alone.
But love? That never faded.
Next, his mother.
The letter was short—"Take care of Kyrian. If Tabitha ever returns, protect her. And the kids." No "I love you." Never had been.
Last were the twins, Helios and Ayla.
Five now, probably. Old enough to remember him.
"I'm sorry I missed your childhood. Watch over you from the stars."
He sealed each letter with red wax, imagining someday they'd reach the right hands.
When he turned to the last sheet of paper, his vision blurred like a sudden storm.
Words spilled onto the page, handwriting shaky, tears smudging the ink.
Ten pages later, he still felt unsaid words clawing at his throat.
Now, with his vision blurring and his hands trembling, he struggled to write a final message.
The pen slipped from his grip.
Derek fumbled for it, vision gone dark.
A tiny foot—Hedwig's, bare—brushed his hand.
She pressed the pen back into his palm.
"I've told them everything," he rasped. "If you want… go with them to the city. Find a doctor. Your voice will come back."
A warm drop fell on his hand.
"Hedwig… are you crying?"
He laughed, bitter and weak. 'How silly. She can't speak. I can't see.'
"What time is it? I can't… see anymore."
Hedwig wrote a "6" in his palm.
"Almost six. Time flies when you're dying."
He sighed, lungs burning.
"Rolf."
Rolf's eyes were bloodshot.
"Alpha Derek, I'm here."
"Stop crying like a pup. I told you all—death comes when it comes."
"I know, but…" Rolf choked.
Every person in that room would've taken a bullet for Derek. Died for him. No one expected him to be the one bleeding out.
Alvin squeezed Rolf's shoulder in silent support.
"Alpha Derek, we're listening," Alvin said.
"Alvin, help me to the table. I need to finish this."
"Okay."
They guided him to a chair, one handing him the pen, the other positioning the paper.
His hand shook so hard the letters crawled like worms, "Tabitha, I'm sorry. I love you."
When he finished, he collapsed against the table.
Rolf took the paper, tears smudging the ink.
"Promise me… give this to her yourself."
"Always."
"Alvin… help me outside. I want to see the sunrise one last time."
Alvin turned away, swiping at his eyes. "Yes, Alpha Derek."
Derek stumbled, legs betraying him. Alvin hoisted him onto his back. "Hold on. We'll see the sun rise."
Alvin remembered the last time he'd carried Derek—a bullet had grazed his heart.
They'd crossed snow-capped mountains then, Derek whispering he wouldn't die, not with regrets left unspoken.
But today? Alvin's gut twisted. This time, Derek might not make it.
All those close calls before… had he finally run out of luck?