Chapter 93 THE WAR
WILLA’S POV
The way Gallahan’s face fell upon hearing Gillian’s answer would’ve been comical if not for the way his eyes clearly dimmed as if life had been sucked out of him in a blink of an eye.
In the next heartbeat, though, his body was taut as a bowstring, his anger visible in the lines of his frame. His bluish gray eyes were stormy with thinly veiled emotions.
Knowing how he didn’t have the best command over his own emotions, I felt somewhat proud how he hadn’t snapped and raged about how William had slung mud onto his image and name to Gillian.
I had half expected him to immediately bombard Gillian with questions, demanding to know what William had said about the matter exactly. The other half thought that he would defensively deny and call William a liar and all other colorful names he could probably think of in a fit of fury.
But he did neither.
Perhaps he had learned a valuable lesson of restraint after making Gillian cry the last time. It soothed my lingering upset and anger towards him that persisted in the back of my mind in the last three days.
And as trivial as it seemed as an improvement, I still wanted to commend him.
Gallahan Wick was a violent man. Everybody and their mothers knew that. So seeing him learning to have a better grip on his temper bit by bit because and for our children was truly something.
It stoked the embers of hope that, really, we were going to be okay. That Gallahan could be a kind and patient father in the long haul of parenthood. That we—Gallahan and I—could somehow work. Not just as co-parents, but as mated lovers too.
It was silly, but it was free to hope and dream.
“Uncle William did?” Calisto asked softly after a stifling and weighty beat of silence. He sounded as if he was waiting for his sister to say ‘kidding!’ and giggle about having successfully pulled all their legs.
But he didn’t get what he was quietly hoping for, and I knew he wouldn’t.
So I straightened my posture, patting Gillian’s head and Calisto’s with a sigh. “Alright. Breakfast can wait. Let’s talk about this now.”
Gallahan blinked, looking at me as if he didn’t quite catch what I had just said.
“Sit,” I told him. “We are going to discuss our history with the children. Together and truthfully.”
He nodded mechanically and rose to his feet. Then he chose to sit across from Gillian, leaving me to claim the chair across from Calisto.
And as if sensing the serious air, Calisto shifted on his seat, his gaze flickering back and forth between Gallahan and I.
“Alright,” I said breathily, running my palms up and down my lap. “Where do we even begin?”
“The war,” Gallahan replied, his voice sounding a bit stiff and strangled, as if he was talking past a tight throat. “Did the two of you hear about the war that ended roughly six years ago?”
Gillian and Calisto exchanged glances.
“Yeah. Humans were getting hurt, so… So Mommy fought to protect them,” Gillian answered. Then, after running her upper teeth along her lower lip, she admitted, “Uncle William said Daddy was the one who was hurting the humans.”
Next to me, Gallahan took a quiet but sharp intake of breath.
“R-really?” Calisto said quietly, his tone betraying the fact that he didn’t quite want to believe Gillian. His eyes were round and wide, and his brows were pushed together, creasing a bit at the center.
“Really,” Gillian answered, but she wasn’t looking at Calisto. Her gaze was glued to her lap, even as she added, “That’s why Mommy left Daddy. That’s why we weren’t together. Daddy hurts others. He… He also fought with Uncle William earlier.”
Calisto gasped loudly. If anyone didn’t know any better, they would’ve assumed he was just listening to a riveting tale about dragons and princesses.
And honestly? I would be endeared any other time. But the fact that we were about to disclose something heavy and serious to them stood like an iron barricade for the sweet surge of affection.
I dreaded making them see the ugly and the violence of this world. Yes, including the ones I had a hand too.
Because even if I justified the blood in my hands as something done out of necessity and good will, the fact remained the same. It was still the blood of those I had hurt and… yes, even killed.
While I was neither bloodthirsty nor cruel, I still had a streak of violence in my history.
This was something my conscience had to grapple with after the war while I was building myself a new life away from the Manor, heavily pregnant and peaking with hormones.
And since Gallahan had come back into the picture, I had found myself stewing on this once more, as well as on how rigid yet stilted my moral compass was, and how my story with Gallahan went down.
Whenever I ended alone with nothing but the company of the stillness of the night and the gentle blow of the breeze coming through the window… I kept thinking and thinking, Gallahan’s accusation of me being too self-righteous going round and round in my head.
And the cherry on top? I realized that Gallahan must’ve seen me as a traitor to my own kind with how I had no qualms and hesitation in clawing and stabbing the wolves of his Culling Army.
“Three days ago,” Gallahan suddenly supplied, snapping me back into the conversation. “It happened three days ago, Gil, and I regret it. So much. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
But Gillian didn’t say anything. She just kept her head down and her gaze on her lap.
“So it’s true, Daddy?” Calisto asked.
“Yes, bud. It is. As much as… As much as I want you to see me in a good light, I don’t want to lie to you either. So yes. It’s all true. There was a war. I waged one against humans, and your Mommy belonged to a group that wanted to stop me. She protected the humans.”
“That’s right,” I piped in carefully. “Daddy and I fought each other in a war, and because of it, we had hurt numerous people.”
Confusion etched itself on Calisto’s face as he looked searchingly at Gallahan. It was clear as the day outside that his view he had about his father had shifted tremendously. “But why?”
“Why?” Gallahan parroted, not quite following.
“Why did you hurt others, Daddy? Mommy had only hurt others to protect, right? You said so. But you… Why did you do it when you know it’s bad?”
This was a question I had thought to myself countless times already, even before I met Gallahan. Back then, biased and judgmental as I was, I had assumed that being cruel and heartless was just who Gallahan was. That he did what he did because he was simply wicked and prejudiced. Because he got drunk on power and violence.
But being older and, dare I say, wiser, I had begun to entertain the possibility that perhaps there was something more behind his crusade to subjugate humans.
And if there really was a bigger story there, perhaps I was about to learn it soon.