"Thane freed them while we were with Marcus." I looked at my gentle packmate, at the exhaustion and grim satisfaction in his amber eyes. His gentle features were drawn with weariness, but there was peace there too. "They're with Coral now. She'll get them somewhere safe."
Lily nodded, her gaze returning to Marcus's corpse. Something in her expression shifted—settling, like a storm blown out, like a weight finally lifted.
"It's not enough." she said quietly, her voice thoughtful. "It will never undo what he did. But it's something." She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, her jaw setting with renewed determination. "Now my parents."
We traveled through the night, moving on foot through dark fields and empty roads toward Millbrook. Lily walked at the front, her pace relentless, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Her borrowed human body moved with purpose, every step carrying her closer to the confrontation she'd been dreading and craving in equal measure.
No one spoke. There was nothing to say. The village appeared at dawn—a small farming community nestled in a valley, peaceful and prosperous. Morning mist curled through the wheat fields, and birdsong filled the air. The farmhouse sat at the edge of the village, a neat stone building with smoke curling from the chimney and lamplight in the windows. It looked like a home—warm, inviting, safe.
"Are you sure?" I asked quietly, watching Lily's face in the pale morning light. Her expression was unreadable, but I could feel the storm of emotions through the bond. “There is no going back if you kill them…they were your parents at one time.”
"I'm sure." Her voice didn't waver, though her hands trembled slightly at her sides. "I need to see them." We walked up to the front door. I knocked—three firm raps that echoed in the morning quiet.
Footsteps approached. The door opened.
Maren stood there—older than expected, with grey streaking her copper hair, wearing a clean dress and a pleasant smile. She had Lily's eyes, Lily's cheekbones, Lily's hair—and none of Lily's strength.
"Good morning. Can I help you?" Her voice was warm with practiced hospitality, the greeting of a woman accustomed to welcoming travelers.
Lily stepped forward, into the light. Maren's face went white. Her hand flew to her chest, pressing against her heart. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but no words came. Her pleasant smile crumbled into shock.
"Hello, Mother." Lily's voice was perfectly calm, perfectly controlled, though I could feel the earthquake of emotion beneath the surface. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Lily." The name came out as a whisper, barely audible, her mother's voice cracking on the single word. Tears sprang to her eyes, but whether from shock or guilt or something else, I couldn't tell. "You're—you're supposed to be?—"
"Gone? Or Marcus was supposed to find me and take care of things?" Lily tilted her head, the gesture predatory and cold, a movement she'd learned from Riven. "He's dead. We killed him last night." She smiled, showing too many teeth, and I saw Maren flinch back. "Now we've come for you."
"Maren?" A man's voice called from inside, heavy with sleep and confusion. "Who is it?" Footsteps, and then Harrow appeared—a large man with Lily's eyes in a face grown soft with easy living. He wore simple farmer's clothes, his hair mussedfrom sleep. He saw his daughter and went pale as milk, his hand gripping the doorframe for support.
"Inside." I kept my voice pleasant, almost friendly, but I let my eyes show what I was. "Now." They backed into the house, too shocked to resist, too frightened to run. We followed, closing the door behind us with a soft click of finality. The farmhouse interior was comfortable, well-furnished—everything bought with the gold from selling their daughter. Fine curtains on the windows. Good furniture by the fire. A kitchen stocked with food and drink.
"Sit." I gestured to the chairs by the fire, my voice carrying absolute command. They obeyed, sitting side by side, hands clasped together, staring up at us with identical terror. They looked like what they were—ordinary people, comfortable people, people who had sold their own daughter and used the gold to build a pleasant life.
"Lily." Harrow's voice shook, but he tried for authority anyway, tried for the paternal tone he'd probably used throughout her childhood. His jaw tightened with forced confidence. "Sweetheart, we can explain?—"
"Can you?" Lily moved to stand before them, her borrowed human body radiating cold fury. Her dark eyes bored into her father's face. "Can you explain why you sold your own daughter?"
"We didn't have a choice!" Maren's voice broke, tears streaming down her face, her hands twisting in her lap. Her whole body shook with sobs. "When you presented as omega, everything changed. We couldn't protect you. At least Marcus was offering?—"
"Offering what?" Lily's voice cracked like a whip, cutting off her mother's excuses. Her hands clenched at her sides, her whole body vibrating with barely contained rage. "A comfortable cage? That's what you sold me to, Mother."
"We thought—" Harrow started, his voice weak and reedy.
"You thought about the gold. About the new house and new clothes." Lily's voice dropped to a whisper that was somehow more terrible than shouting. Her eyes burned with pain and fury. "Did you ever think about me? Did you ever regret what you did?"
Silence. Harrow and Maren exchanged glances—guilty, fearful, but something else too. Something calculating. Something that made my claws ache to extend.
They didn't regret it. They regretted getting caught. Lily saw it too. I felt her last hope die through the bond, felt the door slam shut on the part of her that had still wanted her parents to be something other than what they were.
"I used to have nightmares about you." she said quietly, her voice hollow with old grief. "The good ones. Dreams where you came to rescue me." She took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening with tears she refused to shed. "But they were never going to be real, were they? You were never sorry."
"Lily, please—" Maren reached out, her hand trembling, tears still streaming down her face.
"Don't touch me." Lily stepped back, her voice sharp as broken glass, her whole body recoiling from her mother's reaching hand. "I'm not here for apologies. I'm here to decide what you deserve."
"What we deserve?" Harrow's voice rose, a note of indignation creeping in despite his fear, his face reddening with outrage. "We're your parents!"
"You sold me," Lily's voice was ice, cold and absolute, her eyes empty of anything but judgment. "You don't get to claim parenthood anymore." She turned to me, and I saw the question in her eyes, the decision she'd been wrestling with. Her expression was torn between grief and fury.
