Chapter 106
Kara
Blake's head snaps up, gold flooding his eyes so fast it's almost frightening. Cole makes a sound like I just gut-punched him. Asher's entire body goes rigid, black ebony scent exploding with desperate, shocked hope.
"What?" Blake rasps.
I clutch the T-shirt tighter, tears pricking my eyes.
"I love you," I repeat, voice breaking. "All three of you. Even now, when I'm so angry I can barely see straight. Even knowing what you did. Even knowing you lied. My wolf knows it. My heart knows it. I love you."
Through the bond, I feel them shatter.
Blake's knees actually buckle. Cole's mint scent goes syrupy-sweet with relief so profound it borders on pain. Asher closes his eyes, and I feel wetness on his cheeks through our connection—the first time I've ever felt him cry.
All three of them are smiling. Actually smiling. Like I just gave them the world.
"But," I continue, and they tense, "loving you doesn't mean I forgive you. It doesn't mean we're okay. It doesn't mean I trust you."
I force myself to meet their eyes one by one.
"Love and trust are two separate things. I learned that the hard way. And right now? I love you. But I don't trust you. And you need to prove you deserve this love."
"We will," Asher says immediately, voice rough with emotion. "However long it takes."
"Whatever it takes," Cole echoes, mint scent wrapping around me like a promise.
Blake just stares at me like I've performed a miracle. Like hearing me say I love him—even paired with 'but I don't trust you'—is more than he ever thought he'd deserve.
The weight in my chest eases slightly. Not forgiveness. Not yet.
But... acknowledgment. That this thing between us is real.
"I want to know everything now," I say, voice steadier. "I want to know where my parents are."
Asher's expression turns grave. "We don't know their exact location. But Marcus and Victoria might."
"They might?" My voice rises. "What do you mean might?"
Cole shifts forward slightly, careful not to crowd me.
"Mom..." He swallows hard. "Victoria. She loved Connor deeply. He was her father's second wife's son—her stepbrother. She practically raised him after their parents married. He was her responsibility. Her world."
"But Connor met Celeste," Blake continues, gunpowder scent bitter. "And everything changed. Victoria believed Celeste brought him into drugs. Into gambling. Into the life that destroyed him."
My chest tightens. "So she blamed my mother."
"Yes." Asher's voice is quiet. "Victoria paid off the debt—all two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Not just gambling debts. Drug debts too. She thought if she cleared it, if she gave them a fresh start, Connor would come back to her. Would be the brother she remembered."
Cole's voice breaks. "But they took the money and kept running. Left you on the doorstep in a blizzard. And Victoria..." He closes his eyes. "She chased their car down the driveway, screaming Connor's name in the snow. Begging him to come back. But they didn't stop."
The image hits me like a physical blow. Victoria—cold, cruel Victoria—crying in the snow for her brother.
"So she paid off the debt... not for me," I whisper. "For him."
Asher nods. "To her, you're Connor's debt. The proof of her failure. The living reminder that she couldn't save him."
Something cold slides down my spine.
"So she's hated me all these years because I look like my mother?"
Cole's mint scent spikes with pain. "You have Celeste's eyes. Her smile. Her hair color. Every time Victoria looks at you, she sees the woman who 'stole' and 'destroyed' her brother."
"And she was terrified," Blake adds, voice cold. "When she realized we were your mates, she nearly lost it. In her mind, Celeste's daughter was going to ruin her sons the same way Celeste ruined Connor."
My blood runs cold.
"So it wasn't just... dislike," I say slowly. "It was calculated."
"Yes." Asher's black ebony scent is heavy with regret. "Every decision she made—putting you in the storage room, making you do endless chores, forbidding us from befriending you—it was all systematic. She was using oppression to 'protect' her sons from what she saw as a genetic threat."
The realization makes me want to vomit.
"That's..." My voice shakes. "That's worse than just being cruel. That's deliberate. She knew it would hurt a child, and she did it anyway."
"Yes," Asher says quietly. "Cold indifference I could explain. But cold calculation... that's what makes her unforgivable in my eyes too."
I press my hands to my face, trying to process. All those years. All that suffering.
Not because I'd done something wrong.
Because I existed.
"How could she—" My voice rises. "I was eight! What did I do to deserve—"
"Enough!"
Blake's roar makes me flinch. His gunpowder scent floods the room, aggressive and overwhelming.
"Blake—" Asher starts.
"No. No." Blake's eyes are fully gold now, his wolf barely contained. "She needs to hear this. She needs to face reality."
He turns to me, and despite the aggression rolling off him, his eyes are gentle.
"Baby, I know this is hard to hear. But you need to understand something."
"What?" My voice is small.
"Your father isn't a good father, Kara." Blake's voice is rough. Honest. "He abandoned you. Not to protect you. Because of his own choices."
"He was protecting me!" I protest immediately. "They said the people chasing them were dangerous, they said it was temporary, they'd come back—"
"They have severe substance abuse problems." Blake cuts through my words like a knife. "Connor and Celeste are both addicts, Kara. The people chasing them weren't just loan sharks. They were drug dealers. That two hundred and fifty thousand Victoria paid? At least half was drug debt."
The room tilts.
"Your parents are irresponsible," Blake continues relentlessly. "They chose drugs over you. Chose to keep running instead of staying and facing consequences. This isn't some tragic sacrifice. This is abandonment. Pure and simple."
"Blake—" Cole tries to intervene, but Blake doesn't stop.
"You want the truth? Here it is. Your parents aren't heroes. They're flawed, irresponsible adults who made terrible choices. And if you're going to hold us accountable—which you should—then you need to hold them accountable too."
My vision blurs. The walls feel like they're closing in.
"You need to grow up, baby," Blake says, voice softening slightly. "You need to see them for what they are. Not what you wish they were."
The words hit like a slap.
Because somewhere deep down... I already know.
"I know," I whisper. My hands are shaking. "I've always known. I remember the smell of the car—smoke and strange pills. I remember their shaking hands. Their glazed eyes. I just... I wanted to believe they loved me. That they had a reason."
Tears stream down my face.
"I just wanted to believe I was worth saving."