Chapter 34 Mother
Sienna
“Sev… you’re… hurting me,” I choked out.
The words barely made it past my lips. His grip was tightening, his fingers digging into my skin until it felt like my throat was going to snap. I tried to pull his hands away, but it was like trying to move solid iron. I couldn't even cry. I was in total shock, staring up at the man I loved while he squeezed the life out of me.
What did I do? Was loving him really that big of a sin? Did he hate the idea of me having feelings for him so much that he’d rather see me dead?
“Sev…” I tried to call his name one last time, but no sound came out. My vision started to go fuzzy at the edges, turning dark and grainy. The last thing I saw before the world went black was the terrifying anger burning in his eyes.
I woke up and tried to speak, but the sound that came out was a hoarse, painful scrape. It felt like I’d swallowed broken glass.
“You’re awake.”
I looked over and saw Jordan sitting by my bed. I was back in my own room, the curtains drawn tight. He was sitting there with his back straight, looking tired but steady. He had this look in his eyes—pity. Pure, heavy pity. I hated it.
I made a rough, questioning noise, my throat screaming in protest. I tried to point to my neck, my fingers trembling.
Jordan let out a long, heavy breath and stood up. “You were fortunate that your wolf intervened, Sienna. If she hadn't stepped in to start the healing, it would have been much worse.”
My wolf? I stared at him, confused. She wasn't supposed to show up until I turned twenty-one. I was still just a kid in the pack's eyes—useless and unshifted.
“It’s an emergency intervention,” Jordan explained. His voice was low and calm, the way it always was. “She won't speak to you yet, and you can't shift, but she’s working on those bruises. Look at your skin.”
I looked at my hands; the trembling was starting to fade, but the truth was heavier than the physical pain. I had almost died. Sev—my Sev—had almost killed me.
My heart started thumping again, that same cold fear crawling up my spine like a thousand spiders. Jordan saw me shaking and looked away. He leaned in a little, his voice dropping to a whisper that felt like a secret I wasn't supposed to hear.
“I’ve been with this family for a long time, Sienna. I saw Sebastian grow up. It wasn't a life made for a child. I can't tell you the details, but something happened back then. Something broke him, and he still hasn't escaped it.”
I knit my eyebrows together. Whatever happened in his past, it didn't give him the right to wrap his hands around my throat. Why did he snap? And the worst part—the part that made me want to rip my own heart out—was that I still didn't hate him. I was terrified, but I wanted to reach through the dark and find him.
“It might be better if you just left, Sienna,” Jordan said with a sad, small smile. “You aren't ready to face who he has become. Rest now. I’ve put a cold compress and some ointment on the bruising.”
Then he left, moving quietly and leaving me alone with the silence of a room that suddenly felt way too big.
A few days later, I was finally strong enough to walk around the gardens. The sun felt too bright, too normal for a girl with finger-shaped bruises on her neck. Sev was nowhere to be found. He was hiding like a coward in his own house.
I sat on a stone chair, my hand going to my throat. I’d covered the ugly, mottled bruises with a thick turtleneck sweater, even though it was too warm for it. I felt like I was hiding a crime he committed.
“It’s not even winter yet,” Tristan said, walking toward me. He was watching me with measuring eyes, like he was waiting for me to explode or crumble.
“I’m not in the mood for jokes, Tristan. I was almost killed,” I snapped. My voice was still thin and cracked, sounding like a stranger’s.
He looked at me with a pained expression. “Sebastian would never actually kill you, Sienna. He lost control.”
I let out a harsh, dry laugh. “Really? Then what do you call this? He can't even look me in the face! He nearly choked the life out of me and he’s hiding!” I started coughing, my throat burning. Fuck, it hurt just to exist.
Tristan sat down beside me, cautious. “I’m sorry. I know this is a mess. Are you... are you going to leave?”
I looked at him, the anger finally bubbling over. Why was everyone trying to pack my bags for me? Why was everyone acting like I was the one who committed a crime?
“No, I’m not leaving,” I said, forcing myself to stand up even though I felt dizzy. “And honestly, the way you all pity him instead of the girl he almost murdered is pathetic. Do you all have some kind of masochistic streak? Because just... wow.”
I turned to walk away.
“It’s his mother!” Tristan shouted after me.
I stopped dead. I turned back slowly, my brow furrowed. “What? What about his mother?”
“Fuck,” Tristan muttered, rubbing his face. “I really need to learn how to keep my mouth shut.”
“What about his mother, Tristan?” I demanded.
“You aren't going to let this go, are you?” He sighed, looking at the ground.
“When have I ever let anything go?”
Tristan heaved a shaky breath, his face pale. “Fine. I can’t tell you the whole thing—that’s for Sebastian to do, if he ever can. But you need to understand... he was abused, Sienna. Badly. By his own mother. When he was just a kid, she put him through things no one should ever have to remember. Things that make love feel like a trap.”