Chapter 133: Death And Grief

I stayed seated in the car, watching the Morrigans rush out one after another, drawn toward the crash site like something was pulling them there.The scene felt painfully familiar.

Too familiar.

It mirrored the night they found me broken, cold, and barely there. My chest tightened as the memory brushed too close. The air carried the same sharp bite. The same heavy silence before grief exploded.

Vivian reached the railing first. She clutched it like it was the only thing keeping her upright, screaming into the night.

"Is my son okay?"

Her voice cracked the stillness.

The rescue team had already brought the body up. Vivian’s eyes were red, swollen, almost feral with panic as she lunged forward.

"Doctor, please!" she screamed. "Save my son!"

I didn’t need anyone to say it.

Lewis’s people had already confirmed it at the base of the cliff. Nolan was gone.

The doctor approached slowly, his face tight with restraint. He spoke gently, carefully, like one wrong word might shatter her completely.

"Ma’am... please accept our condolences. Mr. Morrigans has no vital signs."

Vivian shook her head violently. "No. No, that’s impossible!" Her voice tore raw. "You haven’t even tried! Do CPR! Do something! How can you declare him dead just like that?"

The doctor hesitated, grief flickering across his face. "Ma’am... we understand your pain, but your son "

She dropped to her knees before he could finish.

Vivian clutched Nolan’s body, pressing her face to his chest as if she could force warmth back into him. Her sobs were loud, broken, desperate.

Greg stepped forward, his eyes red, his voice low and strained. "Mom... Nolan is gone. I already called Jake. He’s flying back from overseas."

"That’s a lie!" Vivian screamed. "He’s just asleep. My son isn’t dead!"

Her denial rang through the cold air.

Camilla arrived late.

She stepped out of the car looking fragile, pale, wrapped in layers of care from the Hudsons. They had been watching her closely these days, feeding her well, guarding her like something precious.

Yenik was with her.

Before Camilla could say a word, Vivian surged forward and grabbed her by the collar.

"It’s you!" she screamed. "You killed Nolan!"

Camilla’s eyes filled instantly with tears. They spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head.

"Mom... he’s my brother. How could I ever hurt him?"

Vivian laughed bitterly, her voice trembling with rage.

"Since you came back, everything has fallen apart. First Elena vanished. Then liora slipped into a coma. Then Elena’s body was found. And now Nolan!"

Her grip tightened. "He left your house. So why is he dead?"

The accusation hung heavy.

Harris’s gaze snapped to Camilla.

Only then did I notice the officers fully. They hadn’t been dispatched for the Morrigans at first. They were here because of a report. But once they arrived and recognized the family, everything shifted.

My case was still open.

And Camilla had always been at the center of it.

My instincts stirred uneasily.

Was this connected?

Was this the thread they’d been waiting for?

The lead officer stepped forward, his tone firm but controlled.

"Mrs. Morrigans, I understand your grief. Our initial assessment suggests this was a car accident. However, we cannot rule out other possibilities."

As he spoke, his eyes locked onto Camilla.

"There was only one vehicle at the scene. We need to determine why it lost control. Human error or outside interference we don’t know yet."

He paused. "We’re requesting that Mr. Morrigans’ body be taken for an autopsy to check for substances or foul play."

Vivian’s face drained of color.

If this had been a simple accident, there would be no need for that.

But with my case unresolved, and no real leads in sight, they weren’t going to let this go.

At least this time, there was a body.

Unlike me.

What was left of me back then had been scattered beyond recovery. Not even a trace remained.

When Vivian heard the word autopsy, she panicked.

"No!" she screamed. "No one is taking my son! He’s just asleep!"

Malcom, who had stayed silent all this time, suddenly stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos.

"Enough!" he shouted. "Don’t you want the truth?"

Malcom had always favored Nolan.

Not because his sons were exceptional, but because Nolan was steady. Reliable. The kind who never caused trouble. The kind elders trusted without question.

Especially this year.

Nolan had just started seeing someone seriously. He had talked about proposing next year, about forming his own bond, building a future. Now all of that was gone.

As a father, Malcom was the one hurting the most. Unlike Vivian, he didn’t scream or collapse. His grief stayed locked inside him, heavy and silent, pressing down until his shoulders sagged under the weight.

"The truth?" Vivian echoed.

She dropped to her knees again, her hands clutching at the snow like she could tear the night apart.

"Why?" she cried to the sky. "Why would you do this to me? Take my son instead of me! Take my life!"

Her sobs shook her whole body.

Greg stood there helplessly, a grown man wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His voice cracked as he spoke.

"Mom... please. Stop crying."

Watching them, I felt no relief.

Only a hollow ache.

Because I knew the Morrigans weren’t that different from me.

They were pieces on a board. Just like I had been. Just like I still was.

I couldn’t forgive them for abandoning me back then. That wound still burned. But I understood this feeling too well the helplessness, the crushing grief, the slow realization that someone else had been pulling the strings all along.

The difference was...

I had been given another chance.

Nolan would never know that the person who caused his death was the very Camilla he loved and trusted.

That thought sat heavy in my chest.

Harris gave instructions to have the Morrigans taken in for questioning. I forced myself to look away from Nolan’s still body, my emotions tangled and raw.

Suddenly, arms wrapped around me.

Firm. Certain.

Lewis pulled me into his chest, holding me so close I could barely breathe. His grip wasn’t gentle it was protective, urgent, like he was afraid I might disappear if he loosened even a little.

"Elena," he said hoarsely. "Do you know how much it hurt when I heard you died?"

His voice shook.

Something inside me cracked.

Between Nolan’s death and the suffocating sense of powerlessness, my heart couldn’t take any more. We were all paying the price for someone hiding in the shadows.

Tears spilled down my face, soaking into his coat.

"Uncle Lewis... when did you find out?"

He lifted my chin, his thumb brushing the tear from my cheek. His gaze was sharp, intense.

"You and Julian are done," he said quietly. "Don’t call me that. I don’t like it."

"I I’m sorry," I whispered. "I didn’t mean "

He didn’t let me finish.

His mouth crashed against mine, hard and fierce. It wasn’t tender. It wasn’t careful. It felt like punishment and fear wrapped together.

This wasn’t the calm man he showed the world.

This was the truth beneath the surface.

Raw. Dominant. Unrestrained.

His arms locked around me like he was trying to shield me from everything, even himself. The force of it stole my breath.

Yet I wasn’t afraid.

Because beneath his strength, I felt it.

His fear.

He pulled back slightly, burying his face against my neck, his breath uneven.

"Elena," he murmured, voice low and rough. "I can’t lose you again."

His grip softened, just a little.

"Let’s go home," he said. "I’ll tell you everything. All of it."

And for the first time that night, surrounded by death and grief, I felt something else stir beneath the pain.

A promise.

A pull that refused to let go.