I failed. I failed her. I failed her.
Jodie kept mumbling those words as she stood across the patch of ground where Ingrid's resting place would be. It was three days after the tragedy, and everyone had gathered for the burial.
The storm hadn't calmed. Hard rain spit down on the Phoenix Pack members around the graveside—everyone had gathered to pay their last respects. Ingrid's body, wrapped in the Phoenix red, golden yellow, and heather-coloured plaid, was dripping wet and awkwardly weighty when placed inside a freshly made coffin. Ares had coupled the coffin together alone, snapping at anyone who attempted to touch it or his dead sister's body. He preserved her dignity even in death, taking care to shield her broken face from everyone else.
