Ding-Dong, the Alpha's Dead

After I hung up, Lambert sent me another video.

In the video, Sampson's friends grew agitated as they spoke to Sampson. Furious, Sampson hurled his glass to the ground and it smashed into pieces. The surrounding people tried to calm him down. Desiree said something, and he began to laugh before kissing her lips.

I knew Sampson must have found out that the Elders had been informing everyone about his funeral. He might have been blocking the mind-link, but his friends could still receive the news.

What surprised me was how easily Desiree could change his mood with just a few words. In the past, when he was angry, I had to be extremely careful. One wrong word, and he would throw me out of our home to reflect on it.

The contrast was enough to make me feel even colder inside.

I could see that Sampson wasn't worried in the slightest. In the past, no matter how bad his tantrums got, I would always be the first to apologize and beg for his forgiveness.

I saved the video of Sampson and Desiree cozying up with each other at the bar.

Just as I was about to turn my phone off, Desiree's call came in. I answered, but the club music from the other side almost deafened me.

Desiree screamed, "Are you mad, Bethany? Sampson isn't dead yet, and you're already preparing his funeral and beginning to elect the next Alpha? Aren't you afraid he'll be furious when he finds out?! You better call everything off! Call a meeting to admit that you've simply missed him too much and made a mistake!"

I hung up before she even finished and turned the phone off.

Then, I lay on my bed—I had the best sleep I'd had in three months.

The next morning, I received a list of names of those who carried Alpha blood in them. All of them were eager to participate in the election.

I smiled, satisfied.

Once the funeral and election arrangements were finalized, I went to Desiree's home.

Her door was shut. I knocked repeatedly, and finally heard the door open.

Desiree was wearing a lace camisole as she stood there, love marks trailing from her neck down to beneath the fabric.

My eyes locked onto my mother's Moonshell Necklace around her neck. My expression darkened as I moved my eyes to her face and met her indifferent gaze.

"I hope you can attend Sampson's funeral. You're his best friend, after all."

Desiree glared at me. "Are you mad, Bethany? There's no proof he's dead, and you're already confirming his death and going to prepare for his funeral? What if he's still alive? You're practically cursing him! What kind of Luna are you?"

I took out the Alpha Election's notice from my bag and tossed it at her.

"It has been three months. He's either killed by a Rogue, or he's already picked clean by vultures. The Pack needs an Alpha. I've already arranged the election. Have you forgotten what you told me to help me get out of my sadness before?"

Back then, when I heard that something had happened to Sampson, I almost blacked out. Sampson's friends took me to the hospital.

"Bethany, there are plenty of Rogues in that area. There's been no word from his bodyguards. I'm afraid there isn't much hope for him."

"That's right! It's too dangerous. You really shouldn't go."

But I got up anyway, and began searching along the route Sampson patrolled together with the rescue party day and night.

I didn't get to have even one restful sleep for three months.

Why hadn't I noticed back then? Sampson's friends weren't worried at all! Instead, they simply toyed with me like a fool.

As soon as I finished speaking, I could hear a loud noise from Desiree's room.

When she saw the unanimous approval of all the elders on the notice, her expression changed. She thought that I was simply bluffing about the Alpha Election, and didn't expect me to be completely serious.

"Bethany, you better stop whatever you're doing! Otherwise, Sampson won't show you any mercy once he's back," she warned.

To that, I merely gave her an indifferent chuckle.

Desiree glared at me and slammed the door shut.