Norman's body plummeted into the flowing river below, followed by a splash as the current surged.
The loud bangs from the gunshot affected Polly's hearing, and she could barely hear her own voice. It was a loud traumatizing bang that made her perceive the sound of a siren, drowning out the voices calling to her till an arm swooped around her waist, pulling her back just in time to save her from falling off the cliff.
"Polly wait!"
The world around her seemed to blur, and by the time she recovered, she was sitting at a weathered bench under a tree. A crowd had gathered at the cliff where Norman had fallen, and Malcolm gently draped a warm sweater over Polly's shoulder.
"She hasn't said anything?" Albin approached from the corner, inquiring about her health from Malcolm, but he shook his head, devastated. When they arrived at the scene, they saw Polly crying in Blake's arm, all the while struggling to escape his grip, but right now, she was silent, not weeping— just staring with hollow eyes.
Even Malcolm had never seen this side of Polly before, and a wave of fear was starting to grip his heart, cause no one understood exactly what she saw.
Malcolm turned to Albin who shook his head slightly in pity, and he frowned at the man. His own eyes were red after confirming from Blake that Norman had fallen off the cliff, and he couldn't bring himself to crash, as he had to be strong for Polly, but, none of this would have happened if Albin never got into the silly argument with Norman in the first place.
"How did this happen under your watch, Albin??" Malcolm demanded, eyeing the man suspiciously. "Are your pack's guards that incompetent, or were they blind to not have seen that Norman's life was in terrible danger??"
"The guard himself was also shot, Malcolm. What do you want me to do?" Albin defended, already annoyed by what Malcolm was indirectly hinting at. "Did you not hear the guard on patrol? He was shot in the leg, and my suspicions were confirmed when he mentioned he caught the wandering scent of a moonshadow pack within the territory. Today is the feast gathering, don't speak like you have no idea how cunning and evil those people from the moonshadow packs are, Malcolm, cause you do."
Albin was not going to handle that false accusation lightly. The river's current was strong tonight, and finding Norman's body could not be guaranteed. It was a futile attempt: not only would the rest of the packs be endangered if they dared to go into the water, but they would not survive the tide.
"Norman must be found." Malcolm's voice was laced with warning, "you have to find Norman no matter what! I don't care how you do it but you must bring Norman back to us, alive and safe. He has to be found, this happened in your territory, so you must take responsibility for it."
Malcolm's eyes were teary, and he couldn't bring himself to look at Polly in the end. He wondered what she must be thinking, what she must be going through. He was the only one who knew how close Polly was to her brother, she literally saw him as her safe space, they were inseparable even as children, but now… it took quite a while for Polly to get over the death of her father, regardless of the fact that she wasn't close to her father, so he couldn't imagine how it must be having to witness her own twin fall off a cliff.
"The moonshadow pack must have discovered the identity of the new Alpha." Albin noted audibly, "without an Alpha, the pack will be more vulnerable to threats, and that is what they want. From the sound we heard on our way here, it's possible that someone shot him, and it was a smart move, because using guns would reduce the risk of being caught."
While the discussion and investigation went on, Polly clutched the bracelet tightly in her bleached palm, a little piece of her brother she was refusing to let go. She was starting to hear voices again—faint, incoherent words from the crowd surrounding her, she didn't understand—but she heard them nonetheless.
Serra was sitting beside her, saying something that she could not hear properly. The look on Serra's face grew more anxious, as if she knew she couldn't hear her, but Polly did not care one bit about her hearing tonight.
Someone had shot her brother approximately three times, she couldn't even imagine the sound cause it would do more damage to her ear. She was in a state of mental denial, she could not cry, her lips would not listen—she felt empty, to the point all she could do was stare like a ghost who had been brought to earth against its will.
She felt her heart pounding in her chest. She felt cold. None of what was happening to her could be real. Norman was fine, he had to be fine, and the images in her head were wrong, none of it was the truth.
Polly was unable to get any sleep that night, and her dark circles worsened. She stayed awake, gazing into the wall like her brother would somehow materialize right there and then, but none of that happened. She recalled Malcolm coming to check on her twice, but she didn't understand a word he was saying— she still hasn't got her hearing back.
What's worse, she still hasn't grieved.
Suddenly, while she was still drowning in the silence that enveloped her, someone barged into her room. She was only able to sense it, and without warning, two strong arms dragged her out of bed.
She tried to look confused, but it was almost as if she had lost the ability to feel. It was strange, not even she could have a grasp of where these men were taking her to, but soon, she was facing a crowd, and the two men released her without mercy, thus, she crashed onto the muddy ground, in front of everyone.
She was still in her black pajamas, they didn't even let her change first. The crowds were whispering something inaudible to themselves, looking at her with what she assumed to be disgust, condensation, hate, but where did all of this expression come from? And so out of the blue?
A man suddenly approached where she fell, her gaze lingering on his black shoe for a second, and when she slowly lifted her head, Blake's face came into view. However, that handsome face was staring at her as if she was a betrayal, a cheat. The gentleness she had always seen in his sea-blue eyes morphed into resentment, and gone was the man who had shown her kindness last night.
He uttered something to her, she couldn't hear him, but when she read his lips, it was something like, "You are done for, Pollyanna Zendelle."