Chapter 71 The secret that broke me
IRIS
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing on that road, staring at the horizon where the sun is bleeding into dusk. My heart feels hollow, like I lost something already and I keep expecting it to ache even more. The hush of trees, the distant hum of wind.
I’m wrapped in silence, and I don’t want to move.
Then I feel someone beside me. My grandmother. She appears quietly, as if she doesn’t want to startle the moment.
“Nana,” I whisper, turning to her.
She doesn’t speak. Just places a hand on my shoulder. Warm. Heavy with sympathy.
“You love him,” Grandma says after a breath. Soft.
I blink. My heart pinches. “I don’t know if I…” I stop. A tear slides down.
Because why is he doing this? Risking everything? Putting himself in front of danger for me? What’s waiting for him if this ends badly?
I swallow hard. My eyes sting. “Why would he do so much if it’s only going to kill him in the end?”
Grandma sighs, gentle and sad. She doesn’t try to argue. She just lets me stand there a moment more with my back straight, shoulders trembling.
Then anger rises in me like a flame. I turn sharply and march toward the house, feet pounding on the steps. Every step feels like wanting to hurt someone.
I open the door to the dining room so hard the frame shakes, even though nothing heavy is in there. It’s quiet, except for the low rustle of pages.
Grandfather is there, seated, reading a book, looking calm, like nothing has changed, like his actions didn’t just shake my world.
I push the book off the table; it hits the wood with a hard slap. He looks up, startled.
“Why,” I say, voice sharp, trembling, “why did you hide us from the werewolf world?”
He closes his eyes, the lines of age heavy on his face. He doesn’t answer at first.
“I didn’t want to endanger you,” he says quietly.
“Endanger us?” I spit. “Don’t lie.”
I press forward, voice shaking. “Did you know of the prophecy?”
He flinches. The answer is in everything he's trying not to say.
I scream it loud: “Did you know?”
“Yes! I knew!” he snaps back, louder than he has in years.
I feel the world tilt. My throat tightens.
“So why didn’t you tell us? That there was a chance the wolf gene would resurface? That there might be danger from what you thought was past? You would’ve saved me a lot of unnecessary things! I would’ve known what to expect!” My voice cracks.
He opens his mouth to speak, hesitates. I cut him off, the anger boiling over.
“And why did you kill them? The pack! You did that! You betrayed them! You destroyed people who trusted you, who believed in you!” I shake my hands, and tears break free.
His eyes flash. “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand more than you think!” I roar, voice raw. “You abandoned them! You promised protection and then you stabbed them in their backs! Mothers, puppies, warriors, all gone!”
Silence crashes down after that. I stagger, tears streaming, chest heaving. I can’t stop. I’ve been holding in years of doubt, confusion, bitterness. Tonight it bursts.
I throw myself into a chair, shaking. I can’t breathe right even though I’m trying. My voice, when it comes, is a broken whisper:
“You made secrets. You made choices behind doors. And now, I am paying for them. Living in fear. Wondering what else you hid.”
Grandfather stands, hands on the table. His face is set, pain and regret mixing in his eyes. Maybe guilt.
“I did what I thought was best at the time,” he says, voice trembling. “I believed hiding you would protect you. I believed silence would spare you this burden.”
I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Protect me? You made me crawl through shadows never knowing who I was. You made me carry your shame without choice. And now he, Darian, is risking his everything for me… because you ran.”
He walks toward me, but I push back, trembling. “Don’t come close. Don’t try to fix this with words.”
He halts, aching silence between us.
I cover my face with my hands, sobs breaking loose. Hot tears streaming, shoulders shaking.
“I hate that I love him,” I whisper, voice choked. “I hate that this…this prophecy-” I break off, can’t finish.
Grandfather stands there, silent, shame deep in his eyes.
I exhale shakily, wipe my face roughly with my sleeve, but nothing erases the mess inside me.
I cry uncontrollably, speaking more to my than my grandfather now. “Why did you do it? Why betray them? Why hide the truth?”
He looks away, jaw clenched.
I slump into the chair, arms wrapped around myself like I can hold together what’s falling apart.
And from somewhere behind me, I hear Nana’s quiet steps. I don’t turn. I don’t want comfort yet, not until the truth has bloodied every secret.
The house is too quiet. The air too still. And I feel like I’ve just opened a wound that won’t stop bleeding.
I cry until I can't breathe.
My legs give way, and I sink to the floor, back against the wall, fists clenched in my lap. My chest heaves, but no sound comes out anymore. Just broken air and burning tears.
A moment passes, maybe more, I can’t tell.
Then soft footsteps pad across the wooden floor. My grandmother crouches beside me, gently placing her hand on my head. She doesn’t ask what happened. She doesn’t have to.
“Come, sweetheart,” she says quietly, brushing hair from my damp cheek. “Let’s get you to bed.”
I let her help me up, legs weak, heart heavier. She holds me steady as we walk down the hall.