Alpha Damon's Greatest Regret

DAMON

I had managed to get to my study but I was still thinking about lots of things snf couldn’t concentrate at all.

The illness seemed to be weighing me down, dragging me into something I didn’t. It wasn’t the thought of not being a werewolf that was bothering me but the fact that I knew my son was out there and he would probably be the only person to help me but—

I sighed as I took a document containing some of the packs but even as I flipped through it, it didn’t seem to make sense in my eyes. The words appeared to be hazy and dancing before me in watery black ink.

The night was awfully quiet, and the quietness hung in the air like a thick, moping fog. Months ago, this might have been the start of preparation for a banquet but now it seemed as if a rogue pack had attacked us and everyone was in mourning

I could still remember those good old days, the glory of the pack, and the memories though warm and roisterous, did little to ease the weight pressing on my chest.

I was no longer the strongest Alpha everyone thought I was and I was damn sure that everyone must have heard what happened. And I feared that my reputation would stand the test of time.

I thought about the pack that I had led them through numerous battles, kept them safe from adversaries both external and internal, and earned their respect.

But last night Mark had shattered that respect with a single, poisonous comment.