Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 242: Burning Bridges and Villages

Chapter 242: Burning Bridges and Villages

"You can’t let her get to you every time, Trudy," Charna said, her voice soft but firm. "You know what Morgan’s like. This is the ritual day. We’re honoring the souls of our fallen pack members. We shouldn’t taint it with pointless arguments."

Trudy’s lips trembled with barely contained frustration. "Pointless arguments? She’s blaming Riona again, Char! And we all know it’s completely unjustified."

Charna gave a knowing sigh. She knew how Trudy felt. Trudy was the kind of werewolf who thought everyone had a secret good side, like some kind of emotional puppy.

The world could be crumbling around her, and she’d still be like, "But what if we just give Riona a hug and a chance to explain herself?"

But Charna also knew the full story. Riona had arrived at Wintertooth as a lost, helpless stranger, needing their help. She had risen from nothing to become a hero who’d sacrificed everything to save the village.

But in the end, that same hero had brought their world crashing down. She had destroyed their home.

Charna understood Trudy’s loyalty. She had once stood by Riona too, believing in her, even when others had doubts. But it was getting harder to ignore the cracks in Riona’s story.

Riona’s supporters, once loyal to the core, were finding it more and more difficult to turn a blind eye. Charna had tried to keep seeing the good in Riona, but the truth was, she couldn’t ignore the destruction she’d left behind.

"I mean, I get it," Charna continued, throwing up her hands in mock exasperation. "I understand why she was angry. Who wouldn’t be in her shoes? But at some point, you’ve got to stop pretending she didn’t destroy our home just because she sacrificed herself once."

Trudy shot Charna a glare, pretending she didn’t hear the obvious truth that was being shoved in her face. She didn’t say a word—why bother?

She just stood there, waiting for the ritual to end so she could go back to her life, pretending Riona had never set their entire village on fire. Who needed to face facts anyway?

"Alright, everyone! I’d like to say a few words," Thorin bellowed, his voice cutting through the air and demanding attention—though, to be fair, the pack had been paying close attention to him for the past few minutes as he made his way toward the shore.

He turned to face the group, holding the candlelit leaf in his hands, his mind briefly blank. He smacked his lips, wondering how to make this speech feel fresh.

It was the same thing every year—same ritual, same words—and Thorin had recited them all too many times. He knew he had to spice it up, but after all these years, how could he make it not sound like the same tired lines?

"Thank you all for coming and participating in the ritual," Thorin began, his voice steady and practiced.

He was very careful not to mention Riona, even though she was, you know, partly the reason they were all here in the first place.

Like Trudy, Thorin was convinced that Riona wasn’t entirely to blame for the pack’s deaths or the fact that their village had been reduced to a smoldering heap.

Sure, it was a little harder to explain the whole ’village burned down by Riona’ thing, but Thorin preferred to think of it as an accident. After all, she’d always had trouble controlling her powers.

And with that unlocked Blood Moon power of hers? Well, of course things were going to go up in flames—it’s practically physics.

"I’ve established this annual thing to honor our fallen comrades, who, in their infinite wisdom, bravely defended our home," he continued, nodding solemnly as if they hadn’t all seen the same tired speech a hundred times.

And some of them died in the fire Riona had ignited. But that wasn’t the point, so Thorin wouldn’t mention it.

Not all of those who died had been defending Wintertooth, though. Some had been busy trying to escape—because, well, self-preservation and all that—and left the others to fight the Zachs.

And then there were the few who, you know, didn’t just die in the fight, but also in the fire that Riona started. But hey, no need to mention that part. Thorin was definitely not going to bring up the giant elephant in the room.

"They grew up with us," Thorin began, his voice dripping with melodrama. "They were our brothers, our sisters, our children, our parents, our neighbors. We’ve shared countless moments together—laughter, tears, awkward silences, and the occasional disaster."

He paused, dramatically scanning the crowd, clearly expecting a wave of tears to wash over everyone. Spoiler alert: nothing happened. Not even a sniffle.

He took a deep breath, no doubt swallowing down a metaphorical pill of bitterness, or maybe just the last remnants of his will to live. "But they’ve chosen a different path now," he continued, nodding solemnly.

Sure, none of them actually chose death, but Thorin wasn’t about to complicate things with facts. No need to get technical.

"And we, as the living, must bid them farewell with smiles on our faces," he continued, his words almost comically rehearsed. "So they can embark on their journey to... enlightenment. Or whatever comes next."

Trudy raised an eyebrow. "How different is it this time?"

She rubbed her left arm, which had been severed at the elbow in a thrilling, extremely memorable battle. Her leg was better, but she still limped like someone who’d just learned to walk. And her guts were half gone, so she had to be careful with her food now.

But at least she was still breathing. Unlike some of her more... unfortunate comrades.

Charna shrugged. "Same speech, same delivery. Not a word out of place."

Trudy and Charna had made a bet. Would Thorin, the handsome, capable Alpha, come up with something new this year? Surely, five years was enough time for him to write a two-minute speech without too many pauses. But no. Charna knew better.

Trudy had hoped for something fresh, something even mildly original. She believed five years of the same speech was enough time to add a little variety—like throwing in a new word or maybe swapping out a few clichés.

But Charna knew Thorin too well. She knew Thorin’s obsession with perfection. The speech was written for him by Zane, the pack’s resident diplomat and master of not saying anything offensive.

Zane had even advised Thorin to steer clear of mentioning anything about Riona or the Zachs. Because, you know, the whole village-burning thing was a real downer.

Zane also refused to write new speeches every year. He had tried to push Thorin into doing something a little more personal, a little more ’from the heart,’ but Thorin had insisted on keeping up appearances.

And so, year after year, they got the same speech—a legacy of perfectly predictable mourning.

"Thorin! Someone’s here to see you," the messenger interrupted, cutting through the dramatic pause of Thorin’s speech. He hesitated, fumbling with his fingers. "She’s... a vampire."

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