Chapter 162 Chapter 161
Chapter 162 Chapter 161
Aloria
Days pass, and while I'm waiting for the mating ritual day to arrive, I take the time to learn about the alphas I will be spending the rest of my life with. From their way of life, to their hobbies, and even tidbits about their past.
The past weeks have taught me something. For the most part, the Ashenvale brothers work as a unit, anticipating each other's moves and actions, a quality that makes them indispensable and absolutely terrifying in every room they walk into.
But despite their similarities in action and in dealing with life and the people in it, there are subtle differences between them. Unlike Draven, who's more passionate and emotional when he's determined, Kairos is stoic... In fact, maybe a little too stoic and completely logical.
In short, while Draven is the brawn of the operations, Kairos is the brain. Yet all of these qualities only serve to make them even more endearing to me.
The more our relationship with each other deepens, the more I learn about several moments from their past, particularly how they survived on the streets after they were thrown out of the Valen manor following their mother's death, an incident that is entirely my fault.
We had gone for a walk earlier that morning, resting by the creek just a few meters from their property, when Draven speaks, prompted by a question I asked him.
According to him, they first start out as pickpockets and measly beggars, stealing pennies and coins from unsuspecting passersby and buyers in markets. It is only when they are caught and punished severely by the street lords and their gang members that they move into a life of servitude... a fancy way of saying underground slavery. They endured unspeakable torture and suffering due to their small frames and the streets' lack of kindness toward people like them.
The words strike a chord within me, and decades-old guilt and shame are unearthed by the recounting of those memories, but Draven isn't quite done. Thankfully, the next part of his tale seems slightly more positive.
According to him, it is only after they get their first shifts at an incredibly young age—younger than most wolves usually get theirs—and realize that their wolves are significantly bigger than those around them that their muscles begin to fill out, their bodies advancing at a rapid rate to make room for their primal beasts.
They take to street fighting and illegal wrestling rings immediately. That raises their popularity among the underground gang members and fills their pockets, allowing them to venture into other kinds of business that bring them great success and helped them amass the wealth and authority they enjoy today.
The moment Draven finishes retelling the story, I feel immense guilt, realizing just how much the brothers have to suffer to be where they are today, all because of a stupid decision I made while I was still a kid.
I stare at his hands, those strong and slender fingers of his and my eyes notice something it hadn't picked up before. Scars, soft tiny, almost invisible ones, but they lined the lengths of his fingers, deeper gashes appearing at the back of his palm. My breath hitches, my gaze drifting towards Kairos owns, and they're just as numerous, if not more pronounced, with a pinkie looking crooked.
Unbiddenly, an image of both of stealing and begging to eat fills my head and the ache in my chest tightens, my lungs feeling like they're loosing air. I realise then, that for an embarrassingly long time, I had never wondered where thru went, never even tried to look for them.
It completely went over my head while I was a kid.
"Now, you understand why the hatred we had for you was so much and so intense," Draven growls, his voice losing its amused lilt as it becomes grave. "We make sure to bring down the Valen name at the first chance we get. It's just a shame that while we are doing that, you are going through a hell of your own too."
My chest tightens at those words, and I look away from him, keeping my gaze on the creek and the steady stream of water flowing past us, a knot forming in my throat. Moisture fills my eyes, but I hastily blink it back, letting out a shuddering breath as memories assail me.
"You're right. I am going through a hell of my own too..." I murmur, my voice breaking.
All those years with Zevran, getting tied up and whipped in the lightless den, the unspeakable pain and torture I suffer... A shudder rolls through me, and I shake my head to dislodge the memories, a deep chill settling into my bones.
It has to have been my karma. A penance for all those years of maltreatment and injustice the twins suffer because of me. A bitter laugh escapes my lips, phantom pain searing my limbs like I've been transported back to that hellhole.
"But... it's all behind us now," Draven says, his voice sounding much closer now.
I whip my head up to look at him, only to find he's just inches away from me, his gaze on me intense.
A warm heat blooms on my cheeks, spreading downward.
"We live, we learn, and now we want to focus on the future. Make it better than the past," he murmurs, his voice soft.
His words reverberate through me, taking with them the guilt, shame, and remorse that have overwhelmed me ever since they started speaking. I'm happy they want to do that. I don't want to imagine how my life would look if they hadn't chosen to forgive me.
No... I don't want to.
"The future..." I murmur, smiling shyly at him. "That's one thing to look forward to," I say, my heart fluttering in my chest.
Draven gives me a playful wink, nudges my shoulder, and turns his attention back to the creek, skidding a rock across the surface.
I watch as it bounces off the water multiple times before finally sinking beneath the surface, the rushing sound of the creek serving as a soothing backdrop.
In that moment, I make a promise to myself that I will spend every day of my life making it up to these males until I die.
That Aloria they know and loathe is dead.
This one wants to treasure the males before her for the rest of her days.