10.
Queen
M eg paces restlessly around the dimly lit grand sitting room, repeating how crazy this is and glancing nervously at the high, arched windows. I can see the disbelief across her face, illuminated by the aurora pouring in from the outside. Perhaps there’s even regret that she has agreed to come with us past the Veil.
She finally stops, taking a ragged breath before she turns to face me and Clara. Her shoulders tense, and her oversized cardigan slides off one side, exposing her colorful tattoos.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she murmurs, her husky voice barely a whisper, her slender hands trembling.
Clara, who’s been sitting quietly by the fireplace, looks up at Meg and puts her knitting away.
“You really do go all out with the grandmotherly act, don’t you?” Meg snarks.
“Keeps my hands busy when I’d rather be smackin’ sense into someone,” Clara retorts.“That usually ends up bein’ Maddox, the younger of my two sons—the troublemaker.”
As always she has that calming presence, but with a raging fire in her that is a testament to her past. She’s been through her own struggles in this world, which are even more daunting given the time and place she came from.
Patting the spot on the velvet sofa next to her, she gestures for Meg to sit down, smiling softly. “Come here, hun. Let me tell you a story,” she says, her voice rich and melodic, like honey and sunshine wrapped together, carrying a slight Southern lilt that deepens when she’s sharing something personal.
Meg peeks at me, and I give her an encouraging nod. Slowly, she walks over and sinks into the seat beside Clara, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them like she’s trying to hold herself together.
“I grew up in the Deep South, back in the mid-century,” Clara starts, “in a small, conservative town. Nothin’ like this world we’re in now.” She gestures around the gothic room with a wry smile. “My momma passed when I was real young, so it was just me and my daddy. He was a pastor and raised me strict, by the good book and the rules of our community—to be proper, to be obedient, to walk the straight and narrow. I never questioned him, ‘cause that’s how it was back then. I was pure and na?ve, and I didn’t know anythin’ else. Where I came from, women weren’t supposed to have opinions of their own. And if you were Black, it was even worse. I was taught to keep my head down and not make waves, especially with how ugly politics were in the South back then. There were places I couldn’t go, schools I couldn’t attend, and even if I wanted to study and get a higher education, those doors just weren’t open for me. Our world was small, though our dreams were big. But I knew my place—always be a good girl, and marry a man who’d take care of me, just like my daddy wanted.” Her voice catches, and she clears her throat before continuing. “So, when Daddy picked out a husband for me—a man from the congregation, respectable, real God-fearin’—I didn’t argue. I figured that was just how life was supposed to be. And Samuel was… decent enough, I suppose. I could see myself bein’ his wife, even if my heart longed for somethin’ much more passionate.”
Meg listens to her captivated, her eyes wide with curiosity, and a flicker of empathy breaking through her anxiety. Clara’s story, foreign as it is, somehow strikes a chord.
Clara lets out a small sigh, her eyes growing distant as she slips into her memories. “It was summer 1957 when the day of my weddin’ finally rolled ‘round. I was barely twenty-one, dressed up in white, long veil and all, standin’ there in the church. I thought it would be my salvation, an escape from a life that felt like a cage. And it indeed was, though not at all how I’d envisioned it. Fate had other plans.” She looks at Meg, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Just as I was ‘bout to walk down that aisle, he came—my daddy’s worst nightmare come to life. But he was there for me . He snatched me right outta my daddy’s church like a storm, right in front of everyone.”
Even though I’ve heard the story before, it never fails to grip me. I lean in closer, my heart racing, palms sweaty. Edwin may be Alex’s younger brother, but he’s no less intense, and even more impulsive, especially when it comes to protecting what’s his. And Clara? She was his the moment he laid eyes on her, whether she wanted it or not.
Meg’s jaw drops. “Wait, so he just took you? Like… kidnapped you?”
Clara nods, laughing softly. “Oh, yes. He carried me right outta there like I was his goddamn prize.”
“Right.” Meg rolls her eyes. “Nothing says romance like a good old-fashioned abduction.”
“I was kickin’ and screamin’ alright!” Clara defends. “I fought him the whole way here, not that it did me much good. He was a monster—I mean, how could he not be? That wild beast of the night had just stolen me. And not only that! He claimed me—marked me as his mate with a bite. It hurt like the devil’s own fire. I thought my life was over. But it wasn’t. It was just… different from what I always imagined.”
Meg shifts, frowning. “That’s concerning.”
“Very much so, I agree.” Clara chuckles dryly, not losing even an ounce of her enthusiasm. “Edwin didn’t give me a choice that day. But the thing with fated mates is, the mark has to be accepted. And I was not havin’ it. Well, at least not at first.”
“At first? I could never forgive such a thing! Weren’t you angry? Scared?” Meg shakes her head.
“Oh, Lord, yes,” Clara admits. “I was furious. Terrified. And lost. I spent nights cryin’ myself to sleep, refusin’ to talk to him, to even look at him. I felt like my whole world had been ripped away, and I was trapped in this strange, dark world I didn’t choose. And Edwin… he isn’t exactly the type to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
Meg’s face is shadowed by horror and Clara quickly adds, “He never forced himself on me or anythin’! He was… very persistent, yet patient in his own way, even though he didn’t understand why I was so mad. He thought he’d saved me from a life I didn’t want, and he couldn’t comprehend why I had a problem with him takin’ me away.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “Alex was the same way! But I guess he learned something from Edwin’s mistakes.”
“These wolves, I swear!” Clara joins in my laugh.
Meg grows more disturbed. “Alex kidnapped you, too?”
“No,” I respond, still giggling, “he just stalked me until I basically got addicted to his presence through our fated bond.”
“That’s perhaps even worse,” Meg comments, then shifts her attention back to Clara. “What happened then?”
Clara returns to her story. “Slowly, Edwin showed me that he loved me. Not just ‘cause I was his mate—he saw me. All of me. He didn’t care one bit ‘bout my background or any worldly matters that even people today in modern times still have issues with. It wasn’t easy for me, and it didn’t happen overnight, but eventually… I learned to love him back and to accept his mark. And now, here I am, decades later yet still lookin’ exactly the same, but with a family I couldn’t have dreamed of back then.”
Meg raises a skeptical brow. “You know, in the real world that’s called grooming .” She pans her eyes over to me. “Same goes for you, Red.”
“Where’s all this bitterness comin’ from?” Clara crosses her arms on her chest, and that’s the closest to anger I have ever seen her this far.
“I just hate men.” She shrugs, though it’s clear there’s much more to her feminine rage. “Well, all male species, apparently.”
“To be fair, in both cases, there was no other way,” I chime in. “I told you about my grandma and ex-boyfriend, didn’t I?”
Meg nods slowly, but I can see she disapproves.
Clara then jumps in again. “I learned later that my daddy wasn’t just a pastor, but also someone who hunted supernatural creatures. Of course, he’d never told me that. But over the years, he killed many vampires, shifters, witches… He’d even taken the lives of young men and women—innocent people like you and Julia—just for suspectin’ they carry the wolf gene or mingle with magic. I think, deep down, Daddy knew a werewolf was my mate, and that he’d come for me eventually. Maybe that’s why he kept me so sheltered and pressured me to marry Samuel, who was a hunter as well. But once Edwin claimed me, I was no longer a daughter to him… and nothin’ would stop him from killin’ me, too.” She chokes up, her eyes glossy. “You must understand that those are the kind of people hunters are—self-righteous and ruthless.”
Meg shivers, likely because of the chill running down her spine.
“In the beginnin’, I thought the same way you do now. It felt impossible at the time. The hardest part was the fear—the fear that I could never learn to love this new world, or the beast who’d claimed me. That I could never be happy. How could I ever forgive him after he kidnapped me? In a literal sense he did, but he also saved me from the miserable life of a hunter’s wife. It took me a while to understand it.” Clara’s fingers tighten on Meg’s shoulder, and she leans in. “Here’s the thing: love has a funny way of growin’ where you least expect it. Edwin turned out to be the love of my life, and I’ve never regretted a moment since.”
Meg’s lips part, and something fragile flickers in her eyes as she seems to wrestle with her thoughts. “And you’re happy now?”
“More than happy.” Clara smiles, radiant and sure. “He’s exactly right for me. And we have the most wonderful children who will always be protected by every creature of the night I now proudly call my family. And so will you .”
“I’m just not used to leaning on others.” Meg starts to fidget with her fingers. “I take care of my own shit.”
“You’re not alone, hun. We’re all a little broken, a little afraid. But we don’t give up on our own.”
Meg dismisses her words, not convinced. “I’ll be alright. I’m a big girl. I know how to look after myself.”
“I’m new around here too.” I grab her attention. “But this world is already starting to feel like my own. And it’s true, we’re family now. Believe me, I’ve seen how fiercely they fought for me.”
Meg sighs. “But you two have your…” her words trail off as she searches for the right word, though we can tell how strongly she feels about it. “ Mates . It’s different for me. I don’t believe in this crap.”
“You don’t have a mate yet ,” Clara corrects, then winks. “You never know what’s comin’ tomorrow. You may not have had a choice in bein’ part of this world, but you do have a choice in how you live in it, how you make it yours .”
“No, I mean…” She shakes her head reluctantly. “I just don’t do relationships anymore. One night stands? Absolutely. Dating? Not for me.”
“Why?” I ask curiously.
“Oh, it’s a long story.” Meg drops her gaze to the ground, her armor put up. “I was actually married before.”
I notice how distant she suddenly becomes, and I reassure her, “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but we’re here if you do.”
Agitated, she runs a hand through her lush, wavy, mahogany-hued hair. “Big guy, charming smile. The kind of man you think will make you feel safe.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “I quickly noticed he had a temper and jealousy issues. But I thought he was just protective, you know? And hey, it was fun. Thrilling, even. You think it’s all fun and games until it’s too late. There were moments when he made me feel special. So, of course, I ignored all red flags and we married super fast… only to find out I needed protecting from him.”
Meg pauses, once again curling into a fetal position, holding back emotions. Clara and I wait patiently, but the air around us is thick as we both already know what’s coming.
“Henry the Hercules ,” she scoffs, her voice full of resentment. “That was his underground fighting name. People loved him in those dirty back-alley rings, where he was some kind of hero. Well, too bad he was also a wife-beater.” Her voice gets even more raspy as it grows rougher, her eyes darken. “All those muscles and all that rage, and it came home with him. At first, it was little things like slamming doors or yelling when he didn’t get his way. Then it got worse. Real ugly. The first time he put his fucking hands on me, I swore I’d never let it happen again. The second time, I fought back. And the third time… I knew it was time to get the hell out, even if leaving meant a war.”
A heavy silence falls over us, the room feels colder, and I feel my heart clench. “I’m so sorry,” I tell her, my voice barely carrying the weight of my sorrow for her. Now, her constantly being on edge makes perfect sense.
“It’s fine.” She brushes it off, still acting tough. But there’s a sharpness in her tone, as if the wound is still too fresh to let anyone feel pity for her. “I’m here, right? I’m fine,” she repeats as if trying to convince herself. “It took me over two years to work up the courage to leave. Two fucking years of excuses. Of hoping he’d change. Of telling myself it’s somehow my fault. The divorce was ugly. He wanted to ruin me, punish me for taking away his favorite thing to control. But thank fuck it was just me he hurt.” She laughs, a short, bitter burst that sounds more like pain than anything else. “The steroids messed him up pretty badly and that piece of shit wasn’t able to impregnate me. I was lucky. I can’t even imagine bringing a child into such a nightmare.” Meg finishes, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, her fingers twitching slightly as if she’s holding back more than just words.
The room is heavy with the weight of her confession, and I can almost hear the echoes of her pain in the stillness that follows.
My throat tightens, but I manage to whisper, “You’re one hell of a woman.” I stand from my chair, slowly closing the distance between us.
Clara puts her arm around Meg, her gaze fierce with support. “You’re free of him now,” she says softly, but there’s an unspoken steel beneath her words. “None of that past can touch you here. And no one here will ever let you feel that kind of fear again.”
Meg’s shoulders slump, the tension subsiding just a little. She finally looks up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“It’s hard to trust,” she admits, her voice small and vulnerable. “Hard to really feel safe.”
“But you are,” Clara insists, her tone firm. “I know what it’s like to feel trapped, like the fear never really leaves you. I spent years waitin’ for the past to come back and haunt me. But you learn to find strength in the people around you. And you learn to trust again.”
Meg’s eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of something softer in them. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Being thrown into this world, being told I have some wolf gene in me… it’s a lot. I’m used to dealing with threats I can see and put a bullet through on my own. It doesn’t feel like I’m in control anymore.”
I take a step closer and sit on the sofa on the opposite side of Clara, meeting Meg’s gaze. “You’re right. It is a lot. But you don’t have to face this alone. We’re not asking you to give up your strength. We just want you to know that we’ve got you.”
Meg’s lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I’m not sure she’ll accept that. But then, she lets out a long breath. The tension in the room seems to shift, almost like the air itself has softened. Meg’s frown fades, and for a brief moment, she looks less like a warrior braced for battle and more like someone willing to step out of the shadows—even if it’s just one step.
“Just don’t expect me to start knitting—” she glances from Clara to me “—or baking pies or anything.”
Clara laughs, the sound warm and bright, and I feel a smile pulling at my own lips. “Quite the opposite,” she tells her. “Julia wanted to learn how to fight. Sounds like you’re the perfect woman for the job.”
Meg’s smirk is small but real. “Yeah. Maybe I am.”
Hearing those words, I feel a rush of relief, like we’re finally cracking the walls Meg’s built so carefully around herself. And for the first time since we met, I see a twinkle of something different in her eyes—not just frustration or defensiveness, but maybe… something closer to hope . Her posture loosens just a little, and though she still seems guarded, there’s a slight nod, almost like she’s allowing herself to consider the idea.