Chapter 46 #2
An arctic wind frosts my bones with a biting chill. She treats me exactly as I expect her to, though her coldness is still painful. My heart skips a beat as our eyes clash with raised brows and narrowed gazes.
"What's Project Harpax?" my father asks with such an utterly lost tone that it warms my heart.
I break off our stare to look at him.
But the way my mother blinks at him dismissively raises my hackles. "It's alpha business, dear."
That phrase is like a slap across the face with a paddle. How many hundreds of times have I heard that in my life? How many times have I been dismissed as a simplistic omega, an irrational but adorable omega?
Dad sits back in his chair with a soft, accepting smile and a nod, and it's all I can do not to yank the tablecloth out and strangle Mom with it for treating him like that. Me like that. The entire fucking world like that.
Alpha business. FUCK. HER.
"Is it?" I take a step closer despite the way the air vibrates, practically crackling with the electric force of her ire.
Her nostrils flare, but she still stands with such perfect posture, still loosely holds her wineglass as though I'm an irritation instead of a true threat.
Mimicking her casual pose, I cock my hip and toss out a lazy flick of my wrist. "Surely you don't mean that. Biological weapons that kill thousands are everyone's business, aren't they?"
There it is.
Her neck stiffens in the most satisfying way because my dart has hit the mark.
My father pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth.
I press harder, plunging on, because now that I've started this dive down the rabbit hole, the only option is to finish it. "If it was just alpha business, why would I be kidnapped over it? Injected with it?"
Dad gasps, but Mom doesn't even blink.
She knew.
She fucking knew.
And yet, when I came home the first time…was I seen by doctors? No, just therapists who helped me sweep it all under the rug…who probably helped suppress my memories, I realize belatedly.
My throat tightens and my fist clenches because it seems like there's no end to her betrayal, no lengths she won't go to. I'm just a sacrifice at the altar of this war she worships.
Any protection she's given me is an illusion.
My heart is as fragile as a spiderweb, and her straight, calm gaze is the hand that swipes and destroys those fragile threads of myself. I grow a little light-headed, on the verge of tumbling into despair because I can see on her placid face that I mean nothing to her.
My own mother.
Each breath aches inside my lungs as dark thoughts crowd around the edges of my skull.
Our stares feel like their own battlefield, one full of horrors worse than death. My knees grow soft, and I'm close to swaying where I stand, close to dropping my gaze as her potent, angry scent batters at my nose, sharp and acidic.
But if I stop, she wins.
If I stop, more cities will fall.
My hands start to quake, and I clench them together to hide it, but Mother can sense how weak I am.
Her brows rise, and her chin juts like a professor giving a lecture in one of the classrooms at Eros. "You had a traumatic experience, Brylee. You have to set it aside. War always requires more of us than we expect."
Her words slash like swords, spray like bullets. The pure, unrivalled arrogance of them evaporates my anguish in a snap, converts my breaths to harsh pants, my surging heartbeat threaded with bright fury.
"More of us? More of me, you mean? More of the innocent Noth alphas you made go mad with that fucking virus?"
"Virus?" Now Dad's gaze volleys back and forth between us, dismay cinching his features.
"Yes, she's turned an entire slew of civilians in Nóthos into raving zombies," I tell him. "Had multiple towns sprayed with poison she'd commissioned. Their alphas attacked their own citizens. Their own families."
"So they claim," Mother retorts as she sets down her wineglass, smooths the sleek black dress she wears, and plucks an invisible piece of dust. "Honestly, I'm surprised at you. Indulging in conspiracy theories."
Rage boils through my veins, thrumming, pounding. My pulse throbs in my ears as I take a step closer to her, challenging.
"I've seen the infected. You're a monster."
Her hand lifts and sails toward my cheek.
In a blink, I've reacted automatically, ducking and spearing my elbow into her chest. As the contact sends pain ringing up my arm and she expels a breath, I do a swift karate chop to her neck with the same hand, back-swinging until I hit the soft flesh.
She stumbles sideways, surprised and gasping, the shock on her face signaling she never expected violence from her little omega child.
I give her a dark grin without a hint of humor in it.
I have secrets too, Mother.
Dad's suddenly at my side, tugging on my elbow, pulling me back. But he doesn't reach for her. Doesn't move to comfort her. Instead, his head tilts in confusion as she stares at both of us, pupils blown, a snarling expression on her face.
"The princes of Nóthos stand ready to publicly accuse you," I snap, even though I've made no such agreement with them. We both agreed to do whatever was necessary. "Unless you publicly declare a truce."
"A truce with those fucking bastards? Never!" she snarls and reaches for my father, but he takes a single step backward, out of her reach, his eyes full of questions.
"You did have that scientist from Nóthos…" he begins.
"Yes, she kidnapped the best researcher on karkinos," I add. "But instead of using the man's skills to help her son, she had him concoct poison. Her enemies mean more to her than her own children."
"Love, is this true?" My father's face is as pale as the tablecloth while he stares at my mother like he's never seen her before.
She scoffs, and her nostrils flare as she gnashes her teeth. "You're both omegas. You know nothing of war or what it takes."
Dad inhales jaggedly.
"I know more than you think," I hiss. "And I know that if you don't declare a truce at the press conference you have tonight, then I'm going to publicly denounce you. And so will Ted. Then it won't just be Noths who accuse you."
A dry, wretched laugh starts to erupt from her throat.
But Dad cuts it off when he says, "Our children deserve a truce. And a chance at peace. You'll do this. Or we're done."
And for the first time in my life, I see my mother grow pale.
My father slips his hand over mine and squeezes.