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Lucy
“Mother,” she called softly. “Is that you?”
My throat tightened, preventing me from speaking. Despite rehearsing my speeches and explanations during the journey, they vanished.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, carrying the weight of twelve years of absence, loss, and irretrievable moments. Each sob released the pent-up emotions within me.
I had missed wiping away her tears after nightmares, missed teaching her to hunt, missed seeing her eyes light up when she found her mate. I had missed everything that made a mother.
I wasn’t a mother. I didn’t deserve to be called one. What right did I have to see her now? I broke down in tears.
“What right do I have to be called a mother?" I whispered, my voice broken and filled with self-loathing. I stumbled back, overwhelmed by the weight of my own failure.
Then, something miraculous happened. Instead of turning away in disgust, instead of rejecting me as I deserved, Scarlett rushed forward.
Her strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me close with a protective embrace. Her scent brought back memories that nearly knocked me off my feet.
“Is that really you, Mother?" she asked again, her voice thick with emotion. She pulled back slightly to wipe tears from her face.
Her hands trembled against my cheeks, her touch so gentle that it broke my heart anew.
We held onto each other, crying openly and without shame. In that moment, the world faded away, leaving only the miracle of our reunion.
No one interrupted our sacred space of mixed emotions, where grief and joy intertwined.
“Yes," I finally managed to say, the word escaping on a choked breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my baby.”
The words tumbled out between heaving sobs, inadequate but all I had to offer. “I didn’t mean to abandon you. I didn’t mean to forget you.”
Each confession felt torn from the depths of my soul. “Please forgive me and accept me as your mother.”
My entire body convulsed with the force of my remorse. “I’m so sorry, Scarlett. Please,” I begged, clutching at her as if she might vanish at any moment. “Forgive me.”
I was shaking so violently I could barely stand, held upright only by my daughter’s embrace.
“Thank you for coming back,” she whispered against my hair. “Thank you for coming back into my life.” Her voice cracked as she added, “I missed you, Mother.”
Her forgiveness was freely given and undeserved, a concept that was difficult for me to grasp.
I had expected rejection, anger, or indifference, but instead, she showed me pure, unconditional love.
My child, who had endured so much due to my absence, embraced me as if I were the one in need of comfort. Her generous spirit left me humbled and speechless.
Time seemed to lose all meaning as we stayed locked in our embrace. Minutes turned into hours, but it felt like only seconds, not enough to make up for the years apart.
We could have stayed like that forever if a deliberate cough hadn’t interrupted our reunion.
“I’m still here, mate,” her mate said.
A small, watery laugh escaped me as I sensed the jealousy radiating from Finn. Despite everything, it warmed my heart to see how deeply he cared for my daughter.
Scarlett smiled at him over my shoulder before gently guiding me to a comfortable chair in her quarters.
We sat facing each other, my eyes drinking in every detail of her face—trying to find traces of the baby I’d lost in the woman before me.
We stared at each other, waiting for someone to speak first.
“Mother,” Scarlett finally said. “What happened to you?”
I took a deep breath and started telling my story. The words came out more easily than I thought, flowing like water that had been held back for too long.
I shared every detail of my near-death experience, my rescue, and the years of amnesia that had kept me away from her.
The room fell silent as I began to speak. Scarlett and Finn were completely engrossed, their expressions shifting from shock to empathy to anger as I recounted my story.
“I didn’t mean to forget you,” I concluded.
Scarlett began to tremble visibly, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists in her lap.
“What is wrong?” I asked, worried.
“I hate him,” Scarlett growled. “I will never forgive him for denying me of my mother.”
“It’s okay, darling," I reassured, a cold, calculating smile creeping across my face. “We’ll get our revenge.”
My voice turned into a silky purr, barely concealing the steel beneath. “It’s about time he stepped down from my place.”
“I thought…” Scarlett said through trembling lips. “You were killed by rogues.”
I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. Rogues, of course. It was just another lie in Alaric’s web of deceit. He had covered his tracks so well and embedded his falsehoods deeply into our pack’s history.
“There were no rogues, child,” I said gently, knowing the truth I was about to reveal would shake the foundations of her world. “Your father was—”
“What?” Her eyes widened, suddenly alert. “What do you mean, Mother? Father was a rogue?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “I met him as a rogue, and I fell in love with him.” The memory of that first meeting washed over me—the intensity of our connection, the intoxicating feeling of finding my fated mate.
“I was an Alpha, and he was a mere rogue. Our ranks were different. No pack would have accepted a rogue—not even my father, who was the Alpha then.”