Chapter 13

I'm Melody, and in a quiet little village in Helmont Town, I was out in the fields, working under the sun's relentless heat.

"Melody, take a break," came a familiar voice.

I turned, flashing a smile at my grandma. "It's scorching out here, Grandma. What're you doing?"

"Couldn't find you for hours, so I brought some ice water to cool you off," she said, her wrinkled hand grabbing mine.

We sipped the cold water, strolling along the dirt path between the fields. In that moment of simple happiness, I glanced at her frail figure, and tears welled up.

Four months ago, I thought I was done for when I leapt off that cliff, clutching my pup's urn. But fate had other plans. I woke up in a fisherman's home. He'd seen me floating on the waves, thought I was gone, but felt a pulse and pulled me to safety.

Holding my pup's ashes, I thought of my aging grandma back home. So I returned to this village, spending every day by her side, blissfully unaware of the outside world. The hatred I'd carried—for Ethan, for Zoe—started to fade. Happiness smoothed my sharp edges, and it felt like my heart had finally found a home.

I thought I could keep that peace forever.

But life loves its cruel jokes. Last week, Grandma collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. Tests revealed a tumor. The healer's advice was blunt: take her home, let her live out her final days—two weeks, tops.

I fought back tears, but Grandma saw through me. "Melody," she said, her voice steady, "I've lived a long life. Yours is just starting. Even if you're alone, you've gotta keep going."

Her words echoed as she asked, "What do you want for dinner? I'll cook."

I hugged her arm, playing coy. "Your homemade tortellini in broth, Grandma."

"Alright, alright, I'll make it," she chuckled.

We got home, and I started prepping the meat filling while she rolled out dough. Then—a loud crash.

"Grandma!" I screamed, turning to see her crumpled on the floor.

I hoisted her onto my back and ran to the town hospital, but cancer moves faster than any wolf. When the healer covered her with a white sheet, he patted my shoulder. "I'm sorry."

I stood frozen, a bone-deep chill creeping through me despite the still air.

I stayed by her side for a day and a night until the village elder urged, "Let her rest in peace."

The day we buried her, rain poured. Kneeling by her grave, I stared at her smiling photo on the tombstone, her words ringing in my ears: Live well.

"Rest easy, Grandma," I whispered, banging my forehead against the ground in respect.

A shadow fell over me, and an umbrella shielded me from the rain. It was Marcus Reed, my childhood friend.

He'd left to become a big-shot healer in the pack, but the fast-paced world wore him down, so he came back to our village to practice quietly. These past four months, he'd drop by often, checking on me as a friend. When Grandma passed, he stayed by my side.

He draped his coat over my trembling shoulders. "Let's get you home. Grandma wouldn't want you getting sick—she loved you too much."

His kindness cracked the dam I'd built around my heart. I collapsed against his shoulder, tears soaking his shirt. He patted my head gently. "I'll take you home."

Back home, I crashed into bed and fell into a nightmare. Ethan was there, pushing me to the cliff's edge, forcing me to choose between myself and my pup. I woke up drenched in sweat, and on impulse, I grabbed my phone, untouched for four months, and powered it on.

Messages flooded in, buzzing my hand numb. So many wolves sent condolences and apologies, including Bella and Ethan.

I only opened Bella's. She apologized, explaining how Zoe had blackmailed her. Reading her string of "I'm sorrys," I cried. At least my friend hadn't truly betrayed me.

After some thought, I texted her back: It's okay.

Her call came instantly, her voice a mix of joy and tears. "Melody? Is it you? You're alive? Oh, thank God!"