Chapter 154
Lynette's POV
Elara stepped forward. Her movement drew everyone's attention. "Most of these injuries happened during outdoor survival training," she said. Her voice was steady. Confident. "The place where Lynette grew up... it was remote. In northern Canada. Very isolated. The conditions were extreme."
She was building a story. Giving them something they could understand. Something that made sense.
"She had to learn to hunt. To defend herself against wild animals. To survive in harsh weather." Elara's eyes met mine briefly. A silent question. Was this okay?
I nodded slightly.
"It sounds awful," Mom whispered. Her thumb rubbed circles on my wrist. Right over one of the scars. "My poor baby. You were all alone."
"I'm okay now," I said again. The words felt hollow. Inadequate. But they were all I had.
Mom finally released my arm. She pulled me close again. Her face pressed against my shoulder. "You're home now. That's what matters. You're home and you're safe and I'm never letting you go again."
The fierceness in her voice surprised me. This small, soft woman who cried over my scars. She sounded like an Alpha protecting her pack.
Maybe that's what mothers were. Alphas of their own territory. Fierce in ways that had nothing to do with physical strength.
Dad cleared his throat. When I looked up, his eyes were wet. Red-rimmed. But he was smiling. "Your mother's right. You're home now. Whatever happened before... we'll deal with it together. As a family."
Family. That word again.
I wanted to believe it. Wanted to let myself sink into the warmth and safety they offered. But part of me stayed alert. Watchful. Waiting for the trap.
Because in my world, safety was always temporary. Love was always a weapon someone could use against you.
Mom pulled back. Wiped her face again. "You must be starving. When did you last eat? Do you have any food allergies? Any foods you don't like?"
The questions came rapid-fire. I blinked. Tried to process them.
"I... I'm not picky. I'll eat anything."
In the North, you ate what you could get. What you could kill or steal. There was no such thing as preference.
Mom's face lit up. "Then I'll make everything! All the foods I used to dream about cooking for you." She turned to Dad. "Marcus, we need ingredients. Can you run to the store? I'm not leaving her side."
Her hand tightened on mine. Like she was afraid I'd vanish if she let go.
Dad nodded immediately. "I'll be quick. Make a list."
"No need." Mom was already pulling me toward the kitchen. "I know what I need. Just get the basics—chicken, vegetables, pasta, eggs. Oh, and get those cookies Elara likes. And ice cream. Get lots of ice cream."
Dad grabbed his keys. Paused at the door. He looked at me one more time. His eyes were still wet. "I'll be back in twenty minutes. Maybe less."
Then he was gone.
Mom pulled me into the kitchen. It was small. Cramped. But it smelled like home cooking and warmth. She sat me down at the small table. "You sit right here where I can see you. Don't move."
"Mom, I can help—"
"No." Her voice was firm. "You just sit. Let me take care of you."
She started pulling things from the refrigerator. Humming softly. Every few seconds she'd glance over at me. Like she needed to confirm I was still there.
Elara appeared in the kitchen doorway. "I can help if you need—"
"You too. Sit." Mom pointed at the table. "Both my girls right where I can see them."
Elara sat down across from me. She gave me a small smile. A silent message: Just go with it.
Ethan leaned against the doorframe. His arms were crossed. But his expression had softened. "I'll keep them company, Mom. Make sure they don't escape."
Mom let out a watery laugh. "Good boy."
The kitchen felt crowded. Warm. Full of people who cared.
I wasn't used to it. But maybe... maybe I could learn to be.
Mom busied herself at the stove. The kitchen filled with the sounds of sizzling and the smell of garlic. She was humming again. That same soft tune.
After a few minutes, Ethan straightened from the doorframe. "Hey," he said quietly. "Why don't we give Mom some space? Let her cook in peace."
Mom glanced over her shoulder. For a second I thought she'd protest. But then she nodded. "Go ahead. I'll call you when it's ready. But stay close, okay?"
"We will," I promised.
Ethan jerked his head toward the living room. Elara and I stood. Followed him out of the kitchen.
The living room felt bigger now. Quieter. We stood there for a moment. The three of us forming a triangle again. All of us uncertain about what came next.
Ethan moved first. He walked to the single armchair. Sat down heavily.
"Elara told us she was going to Canada to look for you," Ethan said. "We knew that was part of why she wanted to do that study program. But we didn't think... I mean, the chances of actually finding you after twenty years..."
He trailed off. Shook his head.
"But she did," I said softly. "She found me."
Ethan looked at Elara. His expression was complicated. Grateful but also questioning. "How did you do it? How did you actually find her?"
Elara's face stayed calm. "I followed leads. Asked questions in the right places. Eventually someone pointed me in the right direction."
"And then what?" Ethan asked. "You just... brought her home?"
"Yes." Elara's tone was simple. Direct. "That's exactly what I did."
Ethan nodded slowly. He looked like he wanted to ask more. But he didn't. Instead he turned back to me.
"You're really okay?" he asked. "Those scars... they look bad."
"I'm fine," I said. "They're healed. They don't hurt."
Another lie. But he didn't need to know that.
"Good." He stood up. Crossed the room. Stopped right in front of me. "Because you're my sister. And I don't care if I barely remember you. I don't care if we're basically strangers. You're family. And I'm going to make sure nothing bad happens to you ever again."
The words hit me like a punch. In the North, family meant nothing. Blood meant nothing. Only strength mattered.
But here? Here family meant everything.
"Okay," I whispered. "Thank you."
Ethan pulled me into a hug. It was awkward. Stiff. Like he wasn't sure how to do it. But it was real.
And for the first time since I'd arrived, I let myself believe it.
Maybe I really was home.