Don't believe them.
Or do. That's your choice to make. Not mine. I gave up the right to influence your choices when I walked out that door.
I'm not writing this to be forgiven. I don't deserve forgiveness. I'm writing this because you deserve to know the truth: your mother was too weak to fight for you. Too broken to stay. Too selfish to choose anyone but herself.
Don't be like me. Be stronger. Be braver. Or be weak like I was and run.
Just don't expect me to be there either way. I won't be. I'm gone, and I'm not coming back.
I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to be your mother.I'm not sorry I chose to save myself.
That's the truth. The ugly, honest truth.
Goodbye, Vespera.
The letter fell from my hands.
I sat there on the rehearsal studio floor and ugly-cried. Not pretty tears. Gasping, choking sobs that shook my whole body. I pressed my palms to the wood floor until they hurt, trying to ground myself, but everything was spinning.
Nine years.
Nine years I'd wondered why. Made up stories. Blamed myself.
And the answer was: she was a coward who chose herself.
The worst part?
I understood.
God fucking help me, I understood.
I'd felt it. Those months before the claiming when Dorian used the bond to manipulate me. When I felt myself getting smaller. Quieter. Disappearing into what everyone expected an Omega to be.
I'd tried to run too. Scratched Dorian's face and fled across campus with nothing but my purse. Made it all the way to the gates before I collapsed.
The only difference was I didn't make it out. And then, after they caught me, I stayed and fought.
But what if I hadn't? What if I'd been weaker? What if the bond had won?
I picked up the letter with shaking hands. Read it again. This time seeing myself in every line.
I disappeared into being his mate, his Omega.
Was I doing that? With Dorian? I'd moved into the pack house. Let them take care of me. Started building my life around them.
Was I disappearing?
No.
No, because I was still here. Still angry. Still fighting for my own space. Still demanding they earn me instead of taking me.
I wasn't disappearing.
I was choosing.
Every. Fucking. Day.
My phone buzzed. Dorian. The bond must be screaming at him—my distress flooding through our connection like a five-alarm fire.
