Chapter 10 Killian
FUCK!
What did I just do?
Crane's pain was sharp.
Stabbing.
I had done that.
I had wounded her.
She kept reaching for me.
First on her knees.
Now on the forest floor.
Still, no matter how many soft apologies she whispered.
I couldn't forgive her.
How many times had Daphne tricked me?
How many times had she offered me something warm and kind?
Because she wanted something in return.
I always gave her what she wanted.
Before she showed her true colors.
I was eleven, and Daphne glided into our room. She carried two gifts neatly wrapped in striped paper. A green metallic bow sat atop mine, and I stared at it with uneasy curiosity.
Cade wasted no time tearing into his, already familiar with her guilty cycle of love-bombing and desperate attempts at affection.
I waited, eyeing mine with disbelief. His gift was a handheld video game, the newest model.
I think she’d gotten him the previous version during her last “filled-with-regret” sober cycle.
“Well, are you going to open yours, Killian?” Daphne asked impatiently.
For me? I wrote in the small notebook I used to communicate since my injury.
“I handed it to you, didn’t I?” Her eyes rolled with irritation, but she took a deep breath, forcing herself to soften. “Listen, I know we don’t always get along, but after your fall… I thought maybe we could turn the tide, so to speak. I saw this and thought of you.”
She used the word "fall" to describe my accident. That was what Daphne had taught us to say. It was the approved version of my father’s fist colliding with my face.
I turned the gift over, found the taped edge, and peeled it carefully. Cade was tense, watching closely, ready to intervene if whatever was inside could somehow hurt me.
The paper fell away, revealing a thick book. Its title read “The Art and History of Origami for Beginners.”
My brows knit together. What exactly about this book reminded her of me? I had no interest in origami. I looked to Cade for clarification.
“I, uh… she asked me what your interests were. I told her your favorite subjects in school are art and history,” he said, pointing to the words on the cover with a shrug.
Daphne’s patience cracked. “Well, do you like it or not? I can always return it,” she said, reaching for the book. I pulled the gift back, pressing it to my chest.
I grabbed the notepad and wrote, Thank you. It’s very nice.
That seemed to satisfy her. She hummed, her lips pressed into a tight smile. “Well, just thought I’d give you boys these little gifts. Don’t stay up too late with them. School in the morning, and then Killian’s doctor’s appointment to get—” she gestured toward my wired jaw, “—all this adjusted.”
She nodded once and left the room, calling out, “Goodnight, boys!” down the hall.
“At least she’s still sober, but what was that?” Cade muttered when she was out of earshot, rolling his eyes as he dropped onto his bed, tossing his gift aside.
I shrugged. Maybe Daphne was dying or something. She had never given me a gift, and certainly never tried to “turn the tide” of our relationship built on years of resentment and cruelty.
Then again, for the past few weeks, she'd been surprisingly… kind.
“If she says ‘fall’ one more time, like you just happened to trip and hit Dad’s fist…”
It’s fine, I signed, flopping onto my bed.
Cade and I developed a secret sign language meant only for each other.
It started as a way to communicate while my jaw was wired shut and I couldn’t speak.
Our father caught us using it once and forbade it immediately.
Daphne always reported back to him, so we had to be cautious around her too.
Why he cared so much, I never knew. Maybe because he couldn’t understand us, it made him feel out of control.
Whatever the reason, I wasn’t eager to have my jaw realigned again, so I listened.
Cade started laughing across the room. “A book? The Art and History of Origami? What kind of gift is that? I swear, my mother is clueless. Don’t worry, you can have my video game. She got me the same one last time she relapsed.”
I shrugged again, flipping through the book's pages. Brightly colored step-by-step illustrations showed how to fold increasingly complex paper sculptures. The first one explained how to make a paper crane.
I grabbed a sheet of paper from my desk and followed the instructions carefully, folding each edge with precision. Something inside me warmed as I did.
Daphne’s gift wasn’t thoughtful. If anything, it proved how little she bothered to know about me beyond the most superficial details.
She hadn’t tried to learn who I was or what mattered to me.
She had probably grabbed the first thing she saw with the words "art and history" stamped on the cover and called it good enough.
But it was something.
And I was desperate for anything at this point.
It was the first time Daphne had shown me even a hint of kindness in years. But it felt foolish to hope that her cruelty had finally run its course. In the same way Cade tried not to believe in her sobriety, I tried not to believe she might ever truly come to care for me.
That kind of thinking, that hope, could be more crushing than the abuse.
But at eleven, it was hard not to get my hopes up. To reach for her, when the void of a mother was so present in my everyday life.
The next afternoon, I sat on an examination table while the doctor adjusted my jaw. He had asked Daphne and Cade to wait in the lobby, which was unusual. Normally, they came into the room with me.
Once the doctor left, a woman I had never seen before entered. She was a beta, with kind eyes and a warm smile. She pulled a chair up to the examination table, sitting across from me.
“Hi, Killian,” she said gently. “My name is Mrs. Maria. I have a few questions for you about your injury, if that’s alright.”
At the mention of my injury, my whole body went rigid. I knew immediately who she was and what she wanted. An investigator trying to decide who was really to blame for my broken jaw.
Over the next half hour, she asked me the same questions the hospital staff had already asked when they admitted me.
Was I safe?
Had someone hurt me?
Did I like Daphne and my father?
What about my brother, Cade?
I fidgeted with the informational pamphlet she had handed me at the start of our conversation, folding it and trying to remember the steps from my origami book as I answered. With each fold, my focus sharpened and my anxiety calmed.
For a moment, I actually considered telling her the truth instead of the lies we had rehearsed over and over. But then I remembered what Daphne had said about trying to turn the tide.
She had been better lately, seemingly nicer, almost motherly, if that was even possible. And my father had been keeping his distance, probably realizing he had gone too far this time.
Maybe things were changing.
I was concerned mostly that if I told the truth, they would separate me from Cade.
He was the only person who truly cared about me.
So I lied.
I’m safe, I wrote in my notebook, sliding it toward her. Her eyes softened with a pity she couldn’t act on without proof.
When my appointment was over, we walked back to the car. Daphne’s demeanor shifted the second her door closed. She turned to me, voice low and sharp. Her eyes narrowed.
“What did you tell them, Killian? What did you tell them about your fall?”
I glanced at Cade, then back at her. I wrote nothing and held the notebook up so she could see.
"Good," she said, turning her back to me and starting the car.
That was when everything clicked into place. The sudden kindness, the gift, the false warmth. It had all been preparation. She knew they’d be asking questions again, probably warned ahead of time. She wanted to make sure I remembered to say the right things.
A few hours later, everything went back to normal. Daphne’s sobriety didn’t last long either.
I should have known better than to fall for her kindness.
I shouldn’t have trusted Crane either.
Shouldn’t have fallen for it. Fallen for her.
She used me.
Tricked me.
The same way Daphne used to.
I pushed her pain away and kept moving, stalking forward, refusing to look back.
I couldn’t let her manipulate me again.
A rustle behind me made me turn.
A flash of orange darted through the trees.
Little Bird had shifted.
Her wolf locked on me.
Jaws wide. Teeth sharp.
“Stop!” I barked.
Didn’t want to hurt her.
She didn’t listen. Kept coming. Fast. Fierce.
Angry. Hurt. Ready to attack.
I braced as she leapt, prepared for teeth and impact.
But she missed me.
Shot right past me.
Before I could make sense of it, she collided with something.
A direworg.
Teeth and claws.
Blood spraying.
I tried to reach her, but another one hit me.
Its teeth sank into my bicep.
Claws hooked into the wound on my torso.
Ripping open one that was nearly healed.
Couldn't feel pain, only adrenaline.
I roared, thunderous and feral.
Bird needed me.
A whimper from her wolf!
Was she hurt?
Fuck!
I had to get to her.
The direworg was on me, snarling, ripping.
It was a big one.
Stronger than usual.
I grabbed its neck, wrenching it free from my arm.
It snapped and clawed, but I caught its spine, twisting hard until it cracked.
Body went limp.
I ran for Crane.
She was still fighting the other one, fur slick with blood.
I yanked the beast off her just as she found its neck, biting deep into the artery.
She jerked her head, and blood spurted.
The creature screamed, high and shrill, before going limp.
I tried to pull it away, but her wolf refused to let go.
She growled, possessive, tugging back on the corpse.
I dropped the dead direworg to the ground and let her feed.
She tore into it.
Ravenous.
Only stopped to growl when the rest of the unit arrived.
Talon circled her, speaking through their bond.
She snarled at him when he got too close to her kill.
Didn’t like to share.
He gave up and went to the other corpse, tearing it open.
“What happened, Killian? We all felt Rowan's fear.” Cade barked.
Direworgs attacked. Crane shifted. Attacked them, I signed with blood-soaked fingers.
I didn’t tell him I almost got her killed.
Didn’t tell him I left her in the dirt when she needed me most.
Didn’t tell him I was too damn proud, too angry, to see what was right in front of me.
She cared. Even after everything.
After pushing her away again and again.
And refusing to forgive her.
She still came after me.
She didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.
She just ran into the fight, teeth first.
Ready to die for me.
And that’s when it hit.
What a fool I had been.
My stubbornness, silence, and refusal to forgive her.
All of it could have gotten her killed.
She had made a mistake.
She took my keycard because she was scared.
The same way I once was.
Not of me, but of the unknown, the change.
I should’ve seen that. Should’ve known.
Rowan wasn’t like Daphne.
She wouldn’t hurt me.
What she felt was real.
What she did was real.
And I almost lost her because I was too blind to see it.
"Rowan, you've picked it clean. Time to go, shift back," Cade commanded.
Little Bird growled at him, sharp teeth bared.
"Now, Rowan!" Cade barked strongly.
Her ears went flat against her head.
Then lowered to the ground in submission.
Fur rippled, muscles bunched, bones crunched.
Little Bird transformed.
Smooth, pale skin curled into a ball.
Hugging her knees tightly.
She needed me.
I needed her.
Scooped her up, held her to my chest, deep purrs to soothe.
Her blue eyes looked up, meeting mine.
"Killian," she whispered in a breath of relief.
I'm so sorry, I signed. I didn't see. I do now.
"It's okay," she said, burrowing into my chest for warmth, "I am too."
Little Bird had nothing to be sorry for.
I knew that now.
Needed to make it up to her.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Sorry. Sorry. Sorry, Little Bird.