Third person's POV
Why did it have to be Derek?
Alvin's fists tightened as he stared at the horizon. Derek had lived with a clear conscience—except for Tabitha. He didn't deserve this end.
But Alvin wasn't a healer. All he could do was watch as Derek's breaths grew shallower, his skin paler.
The bell tinkled again—Hedwig had followed them here.
When they finally stopped, Alvin eased Derek against a gnarled pine, its needles pricking Derek's back like needles of ice.
"This spot's good," Alvin said, voice cracking. "You'll see the sunrise."
Derek nodded weakly. "Good."
The mountain wind bit through Derek's coat, but it cleared his head a little.
"Alvin... my biggest regret was letting Daphne's demands tear Tabitha and me apart. If I hadn't blamed her for Silver Moon Pack's problems... none of this would've happened."
"Alpha Derek, you had your reasons," Alvin said, though the words felt hollow.
"Reasons?" Derek snorted, the sound wet and ragged. "I used to hide behind that excuse. But you can't justify hurting people with 'reasons.' I swore I'd never treat someone I loved the way my father treated my mother... yet here I am." He coughed, blood flecking his lips. "Tabitha won't forgive me. And I can't turn back time."
At life's end, the mind often sharpens.
With no future to grasp, the past becomes obsession—memories like an old man counting coins by candlelight.
"Now there's no use talking about it," Derek murmured. "This is my karma. Tabitha always said, 'Better never to meet than to part in death.' Seems I'll have no wife, no children to mourn me."
Alvin squeezed Derek's hand. Those once-strong fingers now trembled like a withered branch.
"You've got me, Alpha Derek."
"And me," Rolf added, voice breaking as he knelt beside them.
Derek managed a weak smile. "With you two here, I can die content."
As death neared, Derek's words turned kinder.
"Truth is, I should've died years ago. Randall saved me once. Now it's time to join him. I still owe him an apology for failing his family. His son never got born, and Daphne... she's in a wheelchair for life."
"Stop it," Alvin said roughly. "You're the best Alpha any pack could ask for. Without you—" "—we wouldn't have peace," Rolf finished. "Alpha Derek, if there's a next life, I'll follow you again. Protect you forever."
Derek's laugh was more rasp than sound. "Can't you wish for something better? Tired of running around yet?"
"Never. As long as I'm with you, Alpha Derek. Please—don't leave. I'm careless. I'll mess up without you here to keep me in line!"
"Alpha Derek, hold on! The miracle healer might come back any moment. You have to live to give Tabitha those letters."
Rolf's voice faded like smoke as Derek's senses dimmed.
Through the haze, he thought he heard, "Alpha Derek, look—the sun's rising."
Ten seconds passed before the words registered.
Years ago, he'd promised Tabitha they'd watch the sunrise over the Five Peaks together.
He'd been too busy then.
Now it was too late.
Is this the moon goddess's punishment for breaking my promise? he wondered. To never see you again?
He turned his head slowly, the motion agony.
Blindness wasn't blackness—it was emptiness, colorless and vast.
Yet in that void, he glimpsed gold. The sunrise, perhaps.
The light should've blinded him, but instead it shimmered weakly, like a candle in a hurricane.
The wind fell silent. His hearing faded next.
He opened his mouth to speak—whether words came out, he couldn't tell.
Tinkling bells cut through the silence.
Hedwig.
With every last ounce of strength, Derek dragged himself toward the sound.
His body shook with the effort. Even moving felt impossible.
But one thought anchored him, "No children to send me off... but Hedwig reminds me of Tabitha. Let her be my daughter for this last moment."
Wolfsbane coursed through his veins, dissolving his organs—but Alpha wolves' resilience defies logic.