If it means leaving—walking away from this house, from this family, from the only stability my mother has ever known—so that she can have the life she deserves without me ruining it...
I'll do that too.
I stare out at the dark water. Feel the cold seeping into my bones. And for the first time since I walked into this house, I stop waiting for someone else to fix it.
Chapter 22
Istay on the dock until my fingers go numb.
The cold helps. Clears my head. Gives me something to focus on besides the chaos spinning through my thoughts. The lake is black glass beneath me, the moon a broken reflection on its surface, and I breathe in the salt-pine air until my lungs ache.
I have to face them. I have to face my stepbrothers.
Tonight. Right now. Before this spirals more out of control. But I'm still sitting here, frozen in more ways than one.
Eventually, the cold wins. I push myself up from the dock—carefully, always carefully now—and make my way back up the path to the house. The sliding glass door is still unlocked. The kitchen is dark and quiet. I slip through like a ghost, avoiding the spots where the floor creaks, and head for the stairs.
The second floor is silent. The brothers' wing stretches out before me—Atlas's suite at the far end, Zero's door on the left, Bane's on the right. Three closed doors. Three alphas behind them.
I know what I need to do.
I just don't know how to start.
Do I knock on Atlas's door? He's the reasonable one. But he's also the one who lied to Richard's face downstairs. Smoothly. Effortlessly. Protecting a secret that isn't his to keep.
Which meanshe knows.
The thought makes my stomach clench. He knows what I am. He has to. You don't lie to your father like that—don't take the blame for a fight that bloody—unless you're protecting something big. Something worth the risk.
How much does he know? Everything? Just pieces? Did Bane tell him what he smelled in the library? Did Zero confess what happened in the basement?
The not-knowing is almost worse than the knowing. At least if I understood what they understood, I could prepare. Could figure out what to say. Instead I'm standing here in the dark, trying to guess how much of my secret is already out.
Do I knock on Zero’s door? The thought makes my stomach clench. I'm not ready to face him alone. Not after the basement. Not after what he did and didn't say.
Bane? He's barely spoken to me. Almost every interaction has been cold, dismissive, like I'm beneath his notice. Why would tonight be any different?
I stand in the hallway, paralyzed by indecision. My body aches. That uncomfortable heat is back—the low sizzle in my veins that I can never quite shake anymore, making my skin feel too tight and my thoughts swim. I'm exhausted—bone-deep, soul-deep exhausted—and the idea of having this conversation right now feels impossible.
But if I go back to my room, I'll lose my nerve. I know I will. I'll convince myself to wait until morning, and then morning will become afternoon, and afternoon will become another day of hiding, and nothing will ever change.
There's a small sitting area between the brothers' doors. A loveseat, two armchairs, a side table with a lamp that castswarm amber light. It's meant to be a gathering space, I think. Somewhere they can talk without retreating to their separate rooms.
I sink into one of the armchairs. Just for a minute. Just to gather my thoughts. To figure out what I'm going to say.
I need to understand what's happening.
I need you to see me as a person.
I need—
My eyes are so heavy.
The chair is soft. The lamp is warm. My body is screaming for rest, for sleep, for just a few minutes of peace.
I'll close my eyes. Just for a second. Just to—
∞∞∞
