I stare at him. The pieces are clicking together with a terrifying precision. The orphan status. The violet eyes. The way the Vampires at the dinner looked at me—not just with hunger, but with recognition. And hatred.
"Matilde," I whisper. "She isn't just afraid of me because I'm a hybrid. She’s afraid because..."
"Because if Céleste had a child," Jax finishes, "that child is the rightful head of the Duval line. Matilde is sitting on a stolen throne. She’s the spare. You're the Queen."
"I don't want a throne," I say shakily. "I fix clocks. I live in a studio apartment. I don't want to be the queen of the undead."
"It don't matter what you want," Jax says grimly. "It matters what you are. Your existence tilts the balance. You possess the bloodright of the vampires and the genetics of the wolves. You are the only thing on this earth that can walk in both worlds."
He pauses, his jaw working. "And that’s why she wants you dead. Not just to stop a new species. But to keep her crown."
I pull my knees to my chest. It’s too much. It’s a fantasy novel plot dropped onto my life. But... underneath the terror, there is something else. A small, fragile hope turning in the darkness.
"They ran," I whisper. "To protect me."
"Yeah," Jax says.
"I spent my whole life thinking I was trash," I say, the tears stinging my eyes. I refuse to let them fall. "I thought they lookedat me and saw a mistake. A burden. I thought they left me at that station because they didn't want to deal with a crying baby."
I look at Jax, needing him to confirm it.
"But they didn't," I say. "They were hunted. They were being chased by monsters on both sides. Leaving me... that was the only way to save me."
"They loved you," Jax says. His voice is rough, heavy with a certainty that anchors me. "Silver was the most stubborn, violent bastard in the Parish. He wouldn't have given up his pup unless the alternative was watching you die."
A sob breaks loose from my chest. I clamp a hand over my mouth.
It changes everything. The loneliness. The nights in the foster homes wondering what was wrong with me. Nothing was wrong. I was loved so much that two people burned down their worlds to give me a shot at breathing.
"Are they..." I hesitate. I need to know. "Is there a chance? If they were that strong? If he was immune to silver? Is it possible that somewhere out there, my mother is still alive?"
Jax flinches. He looks away, staring at his hands—the hands that touched me like I was holy.
"I’m sorry, Miranda," he says softly.
The hope in my chest withers.
"My father," Jax says, his voice hollow. "He came back from a patrol one night. I’ve never seen him cry. Not when my mother died. Not when he broke his leg. But that night... he was sobbing."
Jax looks at me, and the pain in his eyes is ancient.
"He found the site. Near the delta. It was a massacre."
He swallows hard. "Silver didn't go down easy. The ground was torn up for half a mile. Trees snapped like toothpicks. But there were too many of them. Hunters. Duvals. Maybe even some Wolves who wanted to erase the shame."
"He died?" I whisper.
"He was mutilated," Jax says, not sparing me the details. He knows I need the truth. "They had to make sure he wouldn't get back up. And Céleste... there was nothing left but ash. They burned her where she stood."
I close my eyes. I can see it. The fire. The mud. The desperate last stand of a father I never knew, fighting to buy time for a baby he’d already hidden away.
"So I'm alone," I say. "Truly alone."
"No," Jax says.
The word is sharp. Immediate.
He moves then. He breaks the distance he put between us. He crawls back onto the furs and grips my shoulders. His hands are hot, grounding.
