And yet here I am, standing in the beautiful gardens, weeping against the shoulder of an Alpha who wants me to be part of his pack.
The whole world is at my feet, and I don’t know how to accept it.
I move back from Shayne, swaying a little as I try to find my balance.
He keeps hold of my arm, as if he’s afraid to let go.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, starting to wipe at the tears with the sleeve of my sweater.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he assures me.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I start, clearing my throat.
I’m still crying. I can’t seem to make myself stop.
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Shayne says, keeping his gaze steady. “You’ve been through complex trauma. That has an effect. It’s okay to be emotional.”
“It doesn’t feel okay,” I admit, not liking the way my voice sounds when it cracks.
“How does it feel?” he asks.
“It feels … like everything is wrong.”
“And that’s not how everything is, right?”
He nods at me, and I nod back, without even thinking.
“Right,” I whisper. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I frown at him, but the moment I ask myself the question, my heart sinks.
“No,” I murmur. “I’m not.”
“What’s wrong, Robin?”
“He’s not suffering.”
“Who’s not suffering?”
“Ivan Hamilton. He killed my mother, and he kept me captive, and he’s waiting for sentencing. If the police don’t find a body, they can’t lock him away for murder. He’ll get away with the worst thing he ever did.”
Chapter Eighty-Two
Shayne
Robin’s sudden crying jag doesn’t surprise me, but the answer she gives when I ask her what’s wrong does. With everything she went through, she was likely to be traumatized. I didn’t expect the fate of her mother to be the focus. Especially since Falcon told us she barely remembered the woman. She must have been very young when she lost her.
She puts her hand over her mouth while her tears dry up.
I don’t think she knew that’s what’s been bothering her, either.
“The police are still investigating,” I start, telling her what I know from looking into her case.
Spending too much time in a hotel room with very little to occupy my time and thoughts resulted in a bit of research into our future mate.
“You know about that?” she asks, sounding hopeful.
