Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
VIOLET
Ieased the bedroom door open just enough to poke my head in, careful not to wake the children.
Both were already in bed, dressed in clean pajamas.
Dimitros lay propped against the pillows, his oxygen mask softly hissing, while Aria was curled beside him.
Her mask sat snug against her face, one small hand twisted in the blanket.
“Shhh, she’s asleep,” Dimitros whispered, draping a protective arm over her shoulders.
I lingered at the door, uncertain I’d be welcome, but Dimitros evaporated those worries.
“Want to come in?”
Leaving the door slightly cracked, I padded across the room and stood at the foot of the mahogany bed.
“I just wanted to check on you two.”
“She pretty much fell asleep the moment we came back to the room.”
I smiled, glad they weren’t showing any immediate signs of trauma from tonight’s events.
It was hard to gauge how all this would affect them in the long term this soon, although children were more resilient than adults, and for that I was happy, although the grim expression on Dimitros’s face worried me.
“And you?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” he answered robotically. “I just can’t sleep.”
There was a hollowness to his voice, the kind that didn’t suit a sixteen-year-old boy.
I moved around to his side of the bed, giving him space to stop me if he wanted to. “Can I sit?”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded.
The mattress dipped under my weight as I sat on the edge. Up close, the exhaustion on his face was clear. There were shadows under his eyes and tension in his jaw.
“Aria is lucky,” I said quietly, folding my hands in my lap. “To have you as a brother.”
He let out a small breath through his nose. “She’s my sister. My family.” He shifted, turning just enough to look at me, his gaze searching for something on my face.
I waited, unsure of what he might say next but not wanting to interrupt.
“You’re her mom, aren’t you?” he asked, the question landing hard. It shouldn’t have surprised me, considering Dimitros had proved himself to be a very perceptive kid in the short time I’d known him.
My shoulders tensed and my mind scrambled. What was I supposed to say? I didn’t know if this was a line I should cross without Lykos present, but I decided to listen to my gut.
I wanted to say yes so badly. God, I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
But I knew this wasn’t the right moment, and I drew in a breath, prepared to deny it, but nothing came out. I just couldn’t.
“That’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to say anything.
” His gaze didn’t leave mine. “I know you’re her mom.
” A faint, almost crooked smile tugged at his mouth.
“I can see it. The resemblance is clear as day.” He paused, then added a little more bluntly, “And then there’s the weird-as-fuck middle name she shares with your sister. ”
I smiled and felt something in my chest shake loose.
“It is a bit weird,” I agreed.
I wasn’t worried about Dimitros saying anything to Aria. If he was going to, he would have already. He was clearly waiting for his father and me to do so.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” I murmured.
His expression hardened and he brought his hand to his face, brushing his fingers over the slash across his cheek. “She was crazy and wanted to kill me most of the time. Nothing to be sorry about.”
I sighed, careful not to push him too hard. “Still. You shouldn’t have been exposed to any of it. You deserved to be loved by her.” He cleared his throat but remained silent.
“Is there something I can do for you? Anything at all?”
He gulped and shot me an uncertain look. “A hug, maybe? Please.”
My chest swelled with compassion for him, and I pulled him into my embrace.
“Of course,” I murmured against his dark hair, holding him tightly to me. “You don’t even have to ask.”
“This makes me a baby, doesn’t it?”
I scoffed. “Absolutely not. I needed one myself just a few minutes ago, and I’m much older than you. It makes us human.”
He hummed against my chest, but he didn’t agree or disagree.
“I’ve never gotten a hug from a mother,” he mumbled against my chest.
My heart twisted, knowing full well how it felt to crave that love. He had Lykos, but there was something about a mother’s love that couldn’t be replicated.
“Whenever you need one,” I croaked out, “I’m right here.”
He pulled back slightly and looked up at me. “Does that mean you’re not leaving?”
“I hope not.” I pulled him back into my arms. “Not unless your papa sends me away.”
“He won’t,” he said with unwavering conviction. “Violet?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think I inherited my mother’s crazy gene?”
I took a moment before answering, careful with my words. It wasn’t a casual question—it sat too heavy behind his eyes.
“That’s a common fear,” I said gently. “But it’s also a common misconception—that all mental illness is inherited, like it’s passed down cleanly from parent to child.
” I shifted slightly, keeping my gaze steady on his.
“The truth is, it’s not that simple. Some conditions can have genetic components, yes, but many don’t.
A lot of what we see comes from the environment, lived experiences, trauma…
Things that shape a person over time, not something they’re simply born with. ”
His expression didn’t fully ease, but it softened—just slightly.
“I didn’t get to hear your mother’s thoughts or understand her internal world,” I continued, “but from what I’ve seen, her case doesn’t point to something you’re destined to inherit. And more importantly…” I paused, letting that land, “I don’t see any of her in you.”
There was still uncertainty in his eyes, but the edge of panic had dulled. Not gone, but quieter.
“Just promise me one thing.”
“Yes?”
“You’ll always ask for what you need.” He smiled, suddenly looking much younger than his years, like a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. “Okay?”
He nodded. “And you promise me that you’ll stay.”
It was my turn to smile. “You got it.”
There were now two promises that I fully intended to keep.