Chapter 38
Nora's POV
A long pause.
"My supervisor made it very clear that if I wanted to 'smooth things over,' I should consider 'reaching out to people who might advocate on my behalf.'"
"What people?"
"People with connections to the Vaughn family." His voice dropped even lower. "He specifically mentioned Nora's relationship with Kyle. Said maybe if I 'explained my situation to the right person,' they could 'help me understand the bigger picture.'"
The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
"They wanted you to use Nora," Marianne gasped. "To go through her to get to Kyle."
"Pretty much." Lucas laughed bitterly. "I told them to fuck off. That's when they gave me the official termination."
"Jesus, Lucas—"
"I'm not crawling to that family, Mom. And I'm definitely not dragging Nora into this." His voice turned fierce. "She just got out of that relationship. She's finally free of those people. The last thing she needs is to feel like she owes them something because of me."
"But your career—"
Lucas's words carried steel beneath them. "There are other jobs. Other companies. I'm not selling my soul to the Vaughn family, and I sure as hell won't let Nora beg her ex-boyfriend to save me."
Silence fell. I stood frozen in the doorway, my knuckles aching from gripping too hard.
Was Kyle involved in this? Was he trying to force me back into his orbit by threatening my cousin's livelihood?
I sat on the couch and pulled out my phone. Scrolled through my contacts until I found Kyle's number.
The last message in our thread was from a few days ago: Don't contact me again.
No response. Radio silence.
My finger hovered over the call button. One phone call. That's all it would take. I could explain the situation, ask him to intervene with HR, get Lucas his job back.
My finger trembled over the screen.
I didn't call Kyle. I couldn't. Whatever game he was playing, I wouldn't go back.
The next morning, I stood outside Henderson Auto again, holding the folder I'd prepared. To claim my father's car.
"Sign here, Ms. Grey," the worker said.
I scrawled my name on the release form.
The mechanic—a wiry man with grease-stained hands—handed me the keys, then hesitated. "Look, I gotta be straight with you. This car's in bad shape. Two accidents, years of wear and tear. I patched it up best I could, but it's on its last legs. You should think about getting something newer before it dies on you for good."
"I understand," I said quietly. "Thank you."
He looked like he wanted to say more, but I turned away before he could. The car sat in the lot, battered and scarred but still standing. I ran my fingers along the driver's side door.
This is all I have left of you, Dad.
I slid into the driver's seat. The familiar scent of old leather and faint cigarette smoke wrapped around me. For a moment, I just sat there, gripping the steering wheel.
Then I turned the key. The engine coughed to life, rough but functional.
---
The drive to Pinebrook Psychiatric Center took two hours. The facility sat on the border between Silverton and Blackwood, surrounded by dense pine trees that blocked out most of the sunlight. I'd made this trip dozens of times, but it never got easier.
Inside, the guard at the visitor's desk recognized me immediately. "Ms. Grey." His voice was gentle, almost apologetic. "Your mother... she's not having a good day. She hasn't spoken all morning."
My chest tightened. "Thank you for letting me know."
I signed the logbook and made my way down the sterile hallway. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. Through the observation windows, I caught glimpses of other patients—some muttering to themselves, others curled into tight balls in the corners of their rooms, still others staring blankly at nothing.
Room 312. I stopped outside the door, peering through the small window.
Mom sat on the edge of her bed, wearing a pale blue hospital gown. Her hair hung limp and tangled around her gaunt face. She stared out the window at the pine trees beyond, her expression vacant.
She used to be so vibrant. So alive. Now she was just... empty.
I pushed the door open. "Mom. It's me."
No response. Her gaze didn't shift from the window.
I crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed, taking her cold hand in mine. "Mom, I came to see you."
Still nothing. It was like talking to a statue.
"I'm working at DSW now," I said softly, squeezing her hand. "Just like you did. I'm helping people. Trying to make a difference." My voice cracked slightly. "I wish you could see it."
Her eyes remained fixed on the trees.
I talked anyway. About cases I'd worked. About coworkers who reminded me of her old stories.
"When you're feeling better," I whispered, "I'll take you to see Dad. At the cemetery. I know you'd want that."
For the first time, she moved. Slowly, almost mechanically, she turned her head toward me. Her eyes—dull and gray—met mine. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out.
Then she looked away again.
---
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "I broke up with Kyle, Mom."
Her expression didn't change, but I kept going.
"We weren't right for each other. He wanted me to quit my job, to become someone I'm not." I stared down at our joined hands. "But there's someone else. Someone who... sees me. Who trusts me."
I hesitated, the words catching in my throat.
"He's a Lycan, Mom. One of the people you're most afraid of." My voice dropped to barely a whisper. "But he's saved me. Twice. He believes in me. He supports my work."
I exhaled shakily. "I don't know what to do. Should I trust him? Or am I just setting myself up to get hurt again?"
The silence stretched between us. I wanted her to answer. To tell me what to do. To be my mother again, even for just a moment.
But she only stared out the window.
---
A soft knock at the door interrupted us. A nurse poked her head in. "Ms. Grey, visiting hours are almost over."
I nodded, standing slowly. I pressed a kiss to Mom's forehead. "I'll come back next week."
She didn't respond. Didn't even blink.
I walked to the door, pausing to look back one last time. She sat exactly as I'd found her—motionless, lost somewhere I couldn't reach.
The hallway felt colder as I made my way back to the exit. I signed out at the desk, my vision blurring with unshed tears.
Outside, the late afternoon sun broke through the clouds, casting long shadows across the parking lot. I leaned against the hood of Dad's car, letting the warmth seep into my skin.
But I still felt the chill and loneliness that wouldn't lift.