Celena’s POV Fuck. This felt awful. Standing before Jacob, staring at his pale face, those blue eyes brimming with pain and guilt that threatened to spill over. That damned Wolf inside me, that part I couldn’t shake off, was excitedly wagging its tail, making a low whining sound, and desperately trying to rub against it. It didn’t care about Brett’s death or my sadness. It only recognized that so-called "destined mate", the murderer who killed Brett. Get closer to him, it whispered in my mind, with a primal, blind hunger. He is ours. Forgive him. Forgive him? Never. I fought the urge with every ounce of strength, digging my nails deep into my palms until crescent-shaped gashes drew fresh blood. My reason, my rage, my grief screamed in protest. He was unforgivable. Never forgiven. I spun away, fleeing that suffocating atmosphere. I needed clarity, needed distance from the man who tore my soul apart. Unconsciously, my steps led me to that quiet hillside, where Brett lay sleeping. Only here, facing that simple stone, can my heart find a moment of false peace. I knelt down and gently brushed my fingers over the cold stone tablet, on which only his name was simply engraved. "Brett..." I whispered, my voice choked, "What am I supposed to do?" In that instant, a familiar, pungent scent filled my nostrils, it was Jacob. He had been here. His scent lingered here, like a ghostly trace, staining this sanctuary meant only for Brett and me. The wolf within me stirred again, its heart racing at the faint trace. Shut up! I roared at it in my mind. Shut up! I needed to suppress it. I had to suppress it. Becoming a werewolf was beyond my control, and nowhere to run was also true. The Moonlight Clan had been kind to me, but... if even my own instincts, my own wolf, betrayed me, pushing me toward the one I despised, I would lose my mind completely sooner or later. I was sick of this internal struggle, this ceaseless war. If I could’t escape this werewolf body, then at least I would reclaim control of my mind. A thought popped up, a desperate gamble. Witches. They know so many strange things. Maybe... they had a way. I stood up, took one last look at Brett’s resting place, then walked toward the witches’ cottage without looking back. I sought out Maya, who seemed the most grounded and dependable.