She’s not worth it.
Not anymore.
I look at Dad, but his eyes are dark and full of contempt as he leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I’m curious, Lo. Whatexactlywere you thinking? Staying in the townhouse without telling us?” He sneers, like it’s the worst betrayal in the world. “That place is ours. You have no right to use it and destroy it on your whim and wish.”
“I didn’t ask for permission, I know that,” I snap before I can stop myself. The words are out before I realize how sharp they sound. “But I needed somewhere to stay?—”
Dad snickers as he leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, so the so-called journalism didn’t work out for you? Shocking.”
I part my lips, but nothing comes out. What the hell can I say to that? Anything that would even make a damn bit of difference?
Mom scoffs, sitting back in her chair as she crosses her arms.
“What did you think was going to happen, Louisa? That you would just come back here like you’re some kind of victim? You’ve made your bed. This town chewed us up and spat us out because of you, and now you think it’ll treat you any differently? It’s a hellhole, Louisa. It was always going to be.”
She’s twisting the truth, as always. It wastheiractions that led us here.Theirgreed,theirchoices. And yet, here they are, acting the victim. In their mind, the town betrayedthem.
What a crock of shit.
“We have the townhouse to keep our stake in the town,” Dad continues. “We’re a founding family, and no matter what happens, everyone needs to remember that. But it’s not for your personal use just because you decided to throw your own life away.”
I shake my head, frustration boiling over. “This isn’t about you! This isn’t about the family name! You ruined everything, you ruined us. You made our lives hell, and you think you can sit here and blamemefor your mistakes?”
“You’re delusional,” Mom snaps. “We didn’t make your life hell.Youmade it hell. We were doing just fine until you decided to act like some saint, exposing our family, throwing us into the gutter. And now? Now you come crawling back, looking for forgiveness?”
“No,” I say, the word feeling final in my mouth. “I’m not looking for forgiveness. I wasn’t even looking for you in the first place. You’re the one that called me, remember? You’re the onewho set up this meeting, remember?Youare not why I came back here. But I’m not going to let you turn this around like I’m the one at fault.”
The silence in the café is deafening as our words hang around us, each one harder to swallow than the last. The pressure is too much.
My instincts scream for relief, for the comfort of my pack, my Alphas. For once, I want to run, but not away. I want to run toward them. Toward their embraces. Toward their scents. Toward their safety.
The scent of my parents’ anger and disappointment is suffocating, and I can’t breathe without the sharp tang of it swirling around me.
I know Beck will feel it, feel the desperation rolling off me in waves. It’s as if I can already sense him, the bond between us tugging at the back of my mind. The thought of him, of his presence, grounds me slightly, but it’s not enough to push back the rising panic.
“You should leave,” Mom finally says, her words cold as ice. “This town has already done enough damage to us. You don’t belong here. You should just go.”
Dad leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “She’s right. You came back here looking for something that doesn’t exist anymore. You need to go back to whatever noble mission you think you’re on.”
The words hit me hard as a freight train. The ones that have been echoing in my head for years, but now they’re out in the open, sharp and brutal.
You don’t belong here.
Despite the tug of my Alphas in my chest and the back of my head, every breath is harder to take. I want to scream, to throw something, to make them understand the pain of all the yearsI’ve spent trying to escape them. Trying to escape their mess. But my throat is tight, and the words won’t come out.
I hate that my anxiety robs me of my words.
I blink hard, swallowing back the tears that sting at the corners of my eyes. I won’t let them see me break. Not after everything they’ve done. I stand up slowly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. My body is shaking, and I know they can see it, but I don’t care. I’m done with this. I’m done trying to justify myself to them.
“No,” I say, fighting the tremble in my words. “You’re right. This town is a hellhole to you. But it’syourhell.Youmade it. You, and your lies, and your greed. I didn’t make it this way. And you can’t just sit here and pretend you haven’t ruined everything. Pretend like you haven’t ruinedme. Like you haven’t splintered me into sections I keep running from because God forbid I be lumped into the bullshit that is the two of you.”
I can feel their eyes on me, cold and calculating. But I don’t back down. I feel the warmth of their disapproval radiating across the table, pushing against me as a physical force, but I stand my ground.
My hands clench into fists at my sides. My heart pounds with a fury that threatens to drown out everything around me. It’s so loud in my ears, but I push it down. I have to be stronger than this.
My father draws in a breath to speak, but I beat him to it.
“Don’t,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Don’t youdaretry and blame me for everything you’ve ruined. I’m not going to sit here and let you twist the truth to make it easier for you to sleep at night.”
