The words are simple, but apparently I just needed the truth from their perspective. I feared more than anything that they would blame me for their true mate being ripped from them. I couldn’t face them earlier because I didn’t want them to prove me right in thinking that. I wouldn’t have been able to go on.
I should have had more faith in them. In our family and our love for one another.
“Wewillget her back,” Dad vows, taking over the conversation and my focus. His thumb brushes a stray tear from my cheek, the soft gesture at odds with the harsh edge of his voice. “A plan is already being formed.”
The mention of a plan lights my brain up with a roar of endorphins.
Action. That’s what I need to focus on.
The three of them ease back just enough to give me room to breathe without letting me slip away entirely. I drag in a ragged breath as the hollow ache inside me fills with fury alone. It roars in my chest, eating through the numbness and grief until my hands curl into fists.
“I want to know what the plans are,” I demand, my voice shaking but fierce. “Tell me what you’re doing to get her back.”
The three of them hesitate. Father’s brow furrows, Papa’s hand lifts to rub against the back of his neck, and Dad’s jaw ticks as their gazes flick between each other.
“Are you sure you want to be involved and hear about this?” Papa asks. “None of us would blame you if you didn’t.”
I can read between the words they are saying, to what they’re too afraid to voice.
Are you sure you want to talk about the people who tortured you?
Are you sure you want to hear about a plan that would take us right back to that compound?
Are you sure you’re strong enough for that talk?
Bitterness surges up, hot and choking. I let it spill out alongside every ounce of hatred for Terrance coursing through me. “I want to be the one to end him. Ineedto reclaim that piece of myself.”
My jaw clenches as I brace for it–for the sharp refusal, the forbidding decree of a king and father, and the three of them shutting me down before I can breathe another word.
But silence stretches instead. A minute passes as they look at each other in unspoken conversation, likely talking through their mental bond.
I can hardly breathe through the tension. The fact that they didn’t immediately say no is shocking enough to allow me to think that maybe, just maybe, they’re actually considering my demand.
Papa turns back to me, his blue eyes shining with confidence as his head dips once in a nod. “Then we have a lot to talk about. Let’s sit.”
For a heartbeat I can’t move or breathe. I’d braced myself for their refusal, for the crushing weight of their protectiveness to slam down and cage me all over again. It’s what they and Mom always do. My entire life they’ve wrapped me in rules and have loved me so fiercely it felt like chains.
But not this time. Not when it matters more than ever.
Relief slams into me so hard that my legs shake as my chest splits open with the rush of air I drag in. For the first time they aren’t trying to tuck me back into a place of safety like I’ll break if the world so much as breathes on me.
Maybe they’re allowing it because the worlddidtouch me. It altered me forever, ripping off that blindfold I’d walked around with.
I’ve seen the malice dripping off the human hunters. I’ve felt every lash of their disgust and condemnation. I’ve seen the proof of their exploitative plans filling a vat to the brim with my blood.
I will carry those memories with me for the rest of my life, and there’s nothing that will ever take the trauma fully away. There’s no amount of coddling that can protect me from what I’ve already felt. I went into that world as a sheltered princess and came back as a woman who now knows just how ugly life can be.
They must realize that now.
They’re seeing me as I am–not a daughter to be protected, not a princess to be guarded, but as a woman who has already been broken and still stood back up, ready to fight.
My chest burns with the weight of their acceptance, but it isn’t from grief. This is steadier and healing. A thread of respect from them and their belief in my ability to make my own choices.
I nod back, swallowing the emotions clogging my throat and whisper, “Thank you.”
I may not have made the best decision in going to the human realm when I did, but weallknow that that mistake will alter my path and choices moving forward. Never again will I put myself in the way of harm like that.
We all move toward the couch and the cushions dip under our weight. The familiar scent of leather and wood polish mingles with the metallic tang of blood from the nearby kitchen.
