Chapter 63 #2
I thought fear would follow the shock, but it doesn’t. This time, when my father’s eyes meet mine and his expression twist, I feel nothing but rage. The moment stretches—and then I move. I have two fistfuls of his shirt and I slam him against the wall.
A chorus of shouts follows, but it’s as distant to me as my sanity when I glare up at him.
“You said you killed them all,” I grind out as he tries to wrestle free.
“Aiden. What—what are you talking about?” he snaps, hands clawing at my wrists. He tries to pull them apart, but his grip is weak. Everything about him is weak.
“You said you killed them all,” I seethe, rage thrumming through my bones.
Shocked brown eyes gape back at me, flashing for a moment with gold, and the sight of them almost brings me to my knees.
“Aiden,” he hisses with an alarmed glance back at the others.
My eyes must be glowing, bright red, and here I was, letting others see them in broad daylight. I should care, I should be covering up or excusing myself so no one could see. But the reminder only fuels me as my claws tear through fabric and nip at his skin.
“You said you killed them all.”
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away, and as I do, my father stills.
“You promised,” I pant, and my breaths are short again. My hands shake, so I tighten them, shoving him back against the wall, but he’s not fighting me anymore. He’s pliant, and the grip on my wrists loosens as he stares at me. “You promised …”
It’s the only thing that kept me together. The reason I dealt with half the shit they put me through. I could be what he wanted—the son, the alpha—because he’d save me. That’s what I told myself as a child. That changed with age, but he saved me, so my resentments had limits.
“Aiden,” he whispers my name this time, and I can’t help but laugh.
“It’s Aiden now?” I echo, voice breaking into something wild. “You said you killed them all.”
“We did,” he snaps—but there’s a fear behind his eyes, one that’s greater than his fear of others knowing where he’d failed as an alpha to his own son. There’s an understanding, too, that seems to dawn as he looks at me. “We did.” But he doesn’t sound so sure this time.
“He’s alive,” I breathe while my own grip loosens, and the world finally begins to blur. “He’s still alive, and he’s got a whole new set of them.”
“Who?” he whispers, his touch gentling in a way I hadn’t felt from him in years. “Who’s alive, Aiden?”
“Reon,” I growl, voice breaking, but it doesn’t even matter.
He doesn’t know who that is. How could he when he’d never asked what happened after he saved me? He just promised they were all dead and made me vow to never tell anyone in the pack about it.
Mom used to ask if I was okay, but when I kept saying no, she eventually stopped. It just became this thing they pretended never happened—until they saw the red eyes.
The shades came next, and lessons on how to hide it all. It was harder to hide the rage, but they made sure I knew how to bury that too.
If all the bodies in our closet were dead, then as long as I stayed in line, no one would ever know. Except, they weren’t all dead.
A hand on my shoulder makes me snarl, ready to rip into—
Julian.
I’m the worst version of myself, canines bared, eyes burning red. And he’s the most distressed version of himself I’ve ever seen, but he still waits for me with a frail smile, as if our world isn’t crumbling around us and we have no idea how to keep it together.
“Hey,” he whispers while his hands slide down my arms and over my hands, coaxing me towards him. “I know.”
My grip relaxes, freeing my father, and I turn to face my mate. He’s drowning—and he stares at me like I’m the only thing keeping him afloat. I can see it, can feel it in our bond—and I stare back at him for the same reason. We’re each other’s lifeboats.
And he does know.
He knows how much this hurts.
He knows how scared I am.
He knows how tired I am.
And he knows who Reon is because he asked. He’s the only one who ever asked.
“I know,” he says again, and his smile wobbles before it crumples.
There’s no more pretending, but I don’t need him to. We both know this is the worst day of our lives, and nothing either of us says or does will change that.
My rage simmers. I don’t think fear should know anyone this well. My lips part, but I’m no better at getting words out now than I was before. A choked croak slips past my lips, and Julian nods minutely as he clasps his trembling lips together. He knows.
“He’s alive,” he repeats, lips quivering beneath my touch.
I nod, and the movement doesn’t help this time. “They’re alive.”
Julian’s eyes splinter further, tears stream down his face. His hand finds my cheek anyways, smearing mine away. I do the same.
I wipe his tears, the ones already spilled and the ones still on their way, because we both know what comes next.
We’ll have to pretend none of this ever happened. We’ll have to be alphas first and lead our people straight to our nightmares.
So, I wipe his tears because it’s the last thing I get to do for just him. And he wipes mine like it’s the last thing I’ll let him do. Because this is all we get.