"I should’ve done this twenty-five years ago."
"You never talk about it."
"Yeah, that was a terrible time in my life. Then it ended, or so I thought. They went to prison, and I found your father, my True Mate, and everything shifted from hell to paradise. But they got out, apparently."
I want to ask him questions, but I can’t. No more. I’m not ready to dig into the past. I feel sick and weak and I need to get out of this grove. The forest where my nightmare happened is only about two hundred yards away. I don’t want to be anywhere near it.
So I cross the empty field that separates the grove from our property, climb back over the fence, and head toward the house.
Storm has already cleaned up and changed. He and Skye sit at the table.
I open my mouth to say something, maybe to comfort them, but the screech of tires outside saves me from having to speak. A car stops sharply, and I know it’s my father.
I glance out the window and see his tall, broad figure rushing toward us, his face ghost-pale.
When he sees us, he looks over at us and asks, "Where’s your dad?"
"By the grove, about fifty yards from the edge of the field," I answer quietly.
A second later, Father is gone, sprinting toward the fields faster than I’ve ever seen him move.
I look at my brothers sitting with lifeless faces, staring at the table. I decide to make them something warm to drink, anything to keep their minds off what happened. I know they brushed against a nightmare. Fate, I know it too well.
I set tea in front of them, but they both seem dazed.
Something dark stirs inside me, a surge of anger and injustice. They escaped the worst of it, and me? Why did Fate choose me for the worst card in the deck? No one knows, I’ve told no one, and I’m left alone with this poison.
I want to cry and scream at the same time. I feel trapped, physically sick. Maybe I really am sick. Those men were in prison, and you never know what kinds of diseases circulate in places like that. Maybe they gave me something?
I feel filthy. Contaminated. Tainted. Who would ever want me after this?
The stereotypes are brutal, cruel. I’m an alpha who went through that, how would people look at me if they knew?
Alex? He’d despise me, recoil from my touch. The thought slices through my mind like a razor. Others would laugh, humiliate me, tear me apart.
I shrink into myself. Collapse inward.
I look at my brothers with envy, painfully aware I drew the short straw.
My lips press tight, and anger rises again, raw, burning anger at the merciless unfairness of it all.
I turn and leave the room. I can’t stand looking at their faces. I’m glad they’re safe, but what about me? Why didn’t Dad hear my screams? Why didn’t he come to save me?
Why was I the one Fate decided to… destroy?
My forearms and chest start to itch again. I don’t want to scratch in front of them, so I step outside, leaving them alone. At that moment, I hear footsteps approaching the patio.
Father’s back. He’s still ghost-pale, his lips pressed tight. I walk inside, following him.
He bends down and starts rolling up one of the rugs from the living room floor.
Storm and Skye rush toward him too.
We stare, speechless.
"What are you going to do?" I ask.
He looks up at me, his brow furrowed, something almost wild in his eyes.
