Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Elena
We just stared at each other like that.
The noise of the fast-food joint—the sizzle of frying oil, the ding of the register, the chatter of other customers—all of it vanished. The world went quiet. Just me and him.
Liam.
My son.
"Mom—ma'am," he hesitated, switching how he addressed me. That carefulness made my heart ache. Liam's voice was hoarse, unstable the way voices get when they're changing. Werewolf aging was different from humans—he was ten, which put him at the human equivalent of adolescence.
I'd missed five years of his life.
My arms were still around Anya. She peeked out from my shoulder, looking at Liam with curiosity.
"Mommy, that boy keeps calling you," Anya whispered.
I took a deep breath and let her go, standing up. Liam stepped back half a pace, like he was dodging on instinct, but his eyes never left my face.
"How did you—" My voice shook.
"She almost got hit by a car." Liam cut me off. He glanced at Anya. "I saw it and pulled her away. Then..."
He paused. His Adam's apple bobbed.
"Then I just knew she was my sister."
Blood recognition.
Blood recognition between werewolves. When the blood relation was close enough, the wolf identified it automatically. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it drumming in my ears.
"Sister?" Anya tilted her head at Liam. "Are you my brother?"
Liam didn't answer. He was still looking at me. Those gray eyes—the exact same eyes as Lucifer's—held too many things. Confusion, hope, caution. I knew he was waiting for my approval. He was afraid I wouldn't like him acknowledging Anya directly.
"Of course, Anya." I touched Anya's head. "He's your brother. Liam."
Liam's eyes lit up instantly. His lips trembled, and his hands didn't know where to go. Anya grabbed Liam's hand. "Brother!" She looked up at him. "Let's sit!"
Liam let himself be pulled down. His face flushed with excitement and embarrassment, so he pushed the food on the table toward Anya to hide his emotions. "Here. Eat."
"Aren't you gonna eat?" Anya picked up a fry and held it to his mouth. "Here, I'll feed you."
The scene melted my heart into water. I sat across from them, watching Liam chew the fry carefully.
The baby fat had left his face—his features were sharp and defined, a carbon copy of Lucifer.
By werewolf reckoning, he was fifteen now, tall, and looked like he had half a head on me.
I looked at the top of his head. Light brown hair dyed blue, with a few streaks of pale gold at the front.
Two silver studs in his right ear, catching the light.
When he opened his mouth, I saw a silver tongue piercing too.
No!
I almost fainted. An image of little Liam, all cute and sweet, flashed through my mind.
How did this happen?
What the hell had Lucifer done to my son?
"Why did you—" I reached out to touch his hair, but my fingers froze mid-air. Five years. Suddenly, I didn't know how to continue. Liam looked at my outstretched hand. His eyes widened slightly. Then he lowered his head, waiting for me to touch him.
My fingers landed gently on his hair. The texture was rough—dyed and not properly cared for. My fingertips slid from the fringe at his forehead to behind his ear. His body trembled slightly, but he didn't pull away.
"Have you eaten?" I asked, suddenly thinking Liam was still adorable like this. Still the same boy.
"Not hungry," he said, but his stomach betrayed him with a growl.
I couldn't help smiling. I waved the waiter over and ordered another meal, a large one this time, with chicken wings and onion rings. The waiter looked delighted.
"Why didn't you order for yourself?" I asked, puzzled why Liam would have no money.
Liam was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "My card got frozen."
"Why?"
"Fighting." He said it flatly, like it was nothing. "His Majesty wasn't happy."
His Majesty.
He called Lucifer His Majesty. Not Dad. His Majesty.
What was going on?
"Do you fight a lot?"
"More lately." He shrugged. "Nothing else to do anyway."
I looked at him, something heavy pressing on my chest. A kid his age should be in school, hanging out with friends, coming home to a hot meal. Not dyeing his hair, piercing his ears, fighting on the streets, broke and using his last cash to buy food for his sister.
"Liam," I said softly. "Are you... doing okay?"
He looked up at me. Something flashed in those gray eyes. Then he looked down, fingers rubbing back and forth on the table.
"Fine." He pretended not to care. "Got food and a roof."
"What about school?"
"I go." He paused. "Sometimes."
"Sometimes?" I frowned. Liam looked a little guilty but told the truth anyway.
"Skip when I don't feel like going." His voice dropped. "Teachers don't care about me anyway."
My fingers clenched tight.
"Does your fa—does His Majesty know you're skipping?"
Liam laughed coldly. "He doesn't have time for me." Then his tone shifted. "He's been too busy looking for you."
I froze.
"Looking for me?"
"Yeah." Liam looked up at me. "He's been looking for five years. Sent people to every corner of Silver pine, other cities, even other kingdoms. Like he lost his mind. Even came to the human district in secret."
My heart skipped a beat.
"But... but he—"
"Threw you out, I know." Liam interrupted, his tone full of hatred. "He said in front of everyone you weren't his mate. Said you were a liar. Then you left."
He paused. His eyes reddened again.
"Then he started looking for you. Everywhere. Like a madman. Never looked at anyone else again, including Lina. What an act!"
He didn't make Lina his Luna?
My heart suddenly raced, my wolf stirring restlessly. That thought surfaced again from somewhere deep inside. Did he still care about me? But I quickly pushed the thought down. He was the one who had me thrown out.
"He also abolished those regulations against half-bloods." Liam continued. "The Elder Council disagreed. He convinced them one by one. And he announced my identity. Said I was his biological son, a half-blood."
His voice started shaking.
"Everyone knew. Everyone knew I was a half-blood, a bastard. They talked behind my back. Said my mom was a liar, a whore."
"Liam—" I couldn't imagine what he'd been through.
"But I didn't care." He jerked his head up, tears finally falling. "I didn't care what they said. Because I knew you weren't like that. I knew you were my mother."
My vision blurred completely.
"That day..." His voice was soft, choked with tears. "That day in the garden, you protected me. You asked what I wanted to tell you. I wanted to call you Mom. I wanted to ask if I could call you Mom."
He wiped his tears roughly with the back of his hand.
"But before I could say it, those people came. Then you got thrown out."
My hand reached across, gripping his. His hand was cold, his fingers trembling.
"I'm sorry," I said, tears streaming down my face. "I'm sorry, Liam. I'm so sorry."
His whole body went rigid. Then he shot up, came around the table, and threw his arms around me. His head buried in my shoulder, his body shaking violently, suppressed sobs squeezing from his throat. So quiet.
"Mom—"
"I'm here." I held him tight, hand patting his back gently. "I'm here."
Anya watched quietly beside us. She reached out a small hand and tugged gently on Liam's sleeve.
"Brother, don't cry," she said softly. "Mommy says if you cry, the stories run away."
Liam lifted his head from my shoulder and looked at Anya. Then he smiled, tears still on his face, but the smile real.
The waitress brought over the new order. She set the tray on the table, glanced at us, kept smiling, said nothing, and left.
"Eat." I pushed the food gently toward Liam. "While it's hot."
He nodded and sat down next to me. He picked up the burger and took a huge bite, cheeks bulging. I watched him eat, my heart sour and swollen.
Liam suddenly put down the burger and turned to look at me. Those gray eyes were full of hope.
"Can I... can I come with you?"
"I won't be a bother!" When I didn't answer, his tone grew urgent. His hands pressed on his knees, his body tensing. "I can help. I'll go to school. I'll take care of Anya—"
"Can I?" His voice was soft, carefully seeking confirmation. "Can I come with you? I'll be good."
My heart broke a little. Why did my son have to bargain like this for his own mother to take him away?
But I couldn't.
"I'm sorry, Liam."
His eyes dimmed instantly.
"Then..." He bit his lower lip. "What about him?"
I fell silent.
Anya didn't speak. She looked at me and kept drinking her soda. She was a smart, precocious little girl. She felt the tension.
My fingers clenched my skirt.
Lucifer.
The man who threw me out. The man who denied me in front of everyone. The man who let our bond break, who left me kneeling in the rain begging him to believe me, then walked away.
Five years.
For five years, I'd tried to forget all of it. Forget the pain, the humiliation, the despair. I'd built a new life in Silverthread Kingdom, found my value, and learned to be independent.
But now, when Liam asked "what about him," I suddenly realized—I'd never really forgotten.
Those scars were still there. Never healed.
"Liam," I said softly. "Your father and I... we're separated."
Liam's expression darkened.
"So you won't go back?"
"I..." I took a deep breath. "I have my own life now. I have Anya, the shop. I can't—"
"I get it." He cut me off, voice flat, but I heard the disappointment underneath. "You don't want to go back. Because His Majesty hurt you."
I said nothing.
"He never cared about me." Liam's voice started shaking. "He only knows work, dealing with those elders. I get bullied at school—he doesn't know. I fight—he just yells at me. I want him to have dinner with me—he says he's busy."
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
"But Lina said you and those people hurt me together. I didn't believe it. I never believed it. I checked. I know you were framed. I know you saved me."
"Liam..."
"So can you take me with you?" He grabbed my hand. "Please. I don't want to stay there anymore."
I looked into his eyes, into those eyes identical to Lucifer's, at the hope and pleading in them. My heart pounded violently in my chest, each beat asking—what are you going to do?
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to pull him into my arms and tell him, "I'll take you away, we'll never go back."
But I couldn't.
He was Lucifer's only son. The Hale heir. If I took him away, what would happen? Would the Elder Council let me go? What if they found Anya? What would they do?
And... and Lucifer had been looking for me for five years.
The thought stuck in my heart like a thorn. He'd looked for five years. He'd abolished those regulations against half-bloods. He'd announced Liam's identity.
Did he regret it?
But that didn't matter anymore. I couldn't trust him to build a family with me again. I'd hoped once. Then I'd been hurt completely. I had a shadow now. I didn't dare gamble again, didn't dare be brave again.
"Liam, I—"
"Forget it." He let go of my hand, lowering his head. "I know. You won't take me."
"It's not like that—"
"It's fine." He rubbed his eyes. "I understand. I just... I just wanted to ask. Can I see you guys again sometimes?"
Liam's eyes were red. I couldn't hold back anymore. I grabbed his hand. "Liam, I—"
"Elena?"
A voice came from the doorway.
My body went rigid instantly.
That voice.
The scent of cedar and amber suddenly flooded in, cutting through every smell in the fast-food restaurant—the aroma of fried food, the antiseptic, the crowd—drilling straight into my nose.
My wolf shot to its feet. It let out a low whine inside me, tail rigid.
I turned my head slowly.
Lucifer stood in the doorway of the fast-food joint.