Second Chance for the Barren Luna (Talia and Jason) novel Chapter 305

Talia’s POV

The next day gray clouds hung low over Silverfang, making it feel like the Moon Goddess was mourning with us. I stood in front of my mirror, studying my reflection. My hair was pulled back in a bun. I wore the Rosecrest with a simple, black gown.

Nolan came in quietly and closed the door with a soft click. He wore a black suit, which made his eyes look even more intense.

"Are you okay?” he asked.

I shook my head. "No, but I will be.”

Nolan turned me gently to face him. His thumbs brushed against my collarbone in small, soothing circles. "Talia, you don’t have to be strong in front of me.”

I looked up at him and saw concern in every line of his face. I wanted to lean into him and let him hold me until the pain faded. But there was no time. Lately, there never seemed to be enough time.

“I can’t,” I told him, “because if I let myself now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull myself back together.”

Nolan studied me for a short moment before nodding. "I already double-checked the security procedures. The guards are positioned at each entrance. The warriors are armed and ready."

"And what about the Alphas and the Lunas?"

"Arriving within the hour. Colin and Landon are already here. The others are en route."

I turned back to the mirror. "Help me with the buttons?"

Nolan worked silently. When he finished, he rested his hands on my waist and pressed a kiss to the back of my head. "I'm here," he murmured. "Whatever happens today, I'm right beside you."

I met his eyes in the mirror and managed a small smile. "I know."

The funeral was being held in the Great Hall, where Silverfang Alphas had been mourned for generations. Overnight, the room had changed. Black banners hung on the walls, each showing our pack’s silver wolf emblem.

The hall was full when we arrived. Every visiting pack that stayed for the news, every Alpha and Luna from the Harvest Gathering, every council member, and every senior warrior were there. They stood as we entered.

I kept my eyes forward, focused on the wooden coffin at the end of the aisle. It was closed, and I was grateful for that small mercy. Seeing Father’s face would have broken the fragile composure I had managed to hold onto.

Even without seeing him, the reality of his absence hit me hard when we reached the front. The coffin sat there, solid and undeniable, holding the man who taught me everything about strength and duty.

‘You have to maintain your composure,’ my wolf urged, even though she was grieving right along with me. ‘We have to show strength no matter how much this hurts.’

I swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "He taught me that strength is not just power. It is a responsibility. It is a sacrifice. He sacrificed everything for this pack, and in the end, he sacrificed his life to protect us from those who would see us destroyed."

The crowd was weeping now. I could smell their sorrow in the air.

"I thank him," I continued, my speech now calmer, "for showing me what it takes to lead. I thank him for his love, his guidance, and his constant faith in me. And I wish him…"

This time, my voice fractured completely, and I had to pause, breathing hard, before I could finish. "I wish him a peaceful rest with my mother and the Moon Goddess".

I stepped back, unable to say more. Nolan's arm came around my waist, pulling me back into his chest. I leaned into and let his Alpha aura wash over me, comforting me. Solon placed a hand on my shoulder.

The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur. Pack leaders came to offer condolences. Allies shook my hand and promised support. I went through it all on autopilot, nodding and thanking them, trying to keep my composure.

Hours later, the hall had emptied. Most of the mourners had departed to their guest quarters or begun the journey home. Only a handful remained, the core leadership of Silverfang and the visiting Alphas who had chosen to stay for the political discussions that would inevitably follow a transfer of power.

I was speaking with Colin about the security of the northern passes when the doors burst open. Derek stumbled in, his face pale, his clothing torn and stained with blood. He looked like a man who had seen hell itself.

"Mad Rogues!" He gasped, doubling over to brace his hands on his knees. "Dozens of them... At the northern border!"