Chapter 220
Kara
I looked down at our joined hands, processing their words. They were right—I knew they were right. I'd made choices too. I'd chosen kindness over cruelty, compassion over revenge, hope over bitterness. Those had been my choices, made despite everything I'd endured.
Alexei had made different choices.
"I just..." I struggled to find the words. "I guess I want to believe that people can change. That circumstances matter. That if we just understood each other better, we could prevent this kind of pain."
"That's because you have a good heart," Asher said. "But Kara—you can't save everyone. And you shouldn't have to carry the weight of other people's choices."
Through the bond, I felt their unified conviction on this point. They'd spent weeks—months—blaming themselves for my suffering, carrying guilt for choices they'd made as children. They understood the burden of misplaced responsibility.
And they didn't want me to carry it.
"Okay," I said finally, my voice small. "Okay, I understand."
But even as I said it, my eyes drifted back to Cole's phone, to that photo of the smiling five-year-old boy. And I made a silent promise: I'll make sure you're taken care of. All of you. Whatever it takes.
Through the bond, I felt all three of them sense my determination, and their love wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
---
The silence that followed was contemplative, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
I found myself staring at my reflection in the window, seeing the girl who'd survived three days of captivity, who was carrying three babies, who was trying to make sense of a world that seemed determined to be cruel.
"I know you think I make excuses for everyone," I said quietly, not looking at any of them. "And maybe I do. But when I think about Alexei, or Viktor, or even Diana—I can't help wondering what happened to make them that way."
Blake's hand moved to my knee, warm and grounding. "Kara—"
"I'm not saying what they did was okay," I interrupted. "I'm not saying they shouldn't face consequences. I just..." I took a shaky breath. "I guess I'm trying to understand. Because if I can understand, maybe I can protect our children from becoming—or being hurt by—people like that."
Through the bond, I felt their emotions shift—recognition that my compassion came from a place of fear, a desperate need to make sense of chaos so I could prevent it from touching our babies.
Asher's voice was gentle but firm when he spoke. "Kara, you experienced ten years of abuse and neglect. You were beaten, starved, isolated, treated like you were worthless." He paused, and I saw his eyes in the rearview mirror, dark and serious. "Did you ever think about hurting someone? About robbing a store or attacking an innocent person?"
The question made me flinch. "No. Of course not."
"Why not?" he pressed.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Why hadn't I? I'd certainly had dark thoughts—moments when I'd imagined Blake or Asher or Cole suffering the way they'd made me suffer. Moments when I'd fantasized about running away and never looking back, leaving them all to face the consequences of their cruelty.
But I'd never actually considered hurting someone innocent. Never thought about taking out my pain on strangers who'd done nothing to me.
"I don't know," I admitted. "It just... wasn't an option. It's not who I am."
"Exactly," Blake said, his voice rough with emotion. "It's not who you are. You chose kindness even when the world gave you every reason to choose cruelty. That was your choice, Kara. Your decision."
Cole's thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. "And Alexei made different choices. He chose violence. He chose to hurt people. That's on him, not on his circumstances."
"But—" I started.
"No buts," Blake interrupted, not unkindly. "You can't keep looking for reasons to excuse people who hurt others. Sometimes people are just... broken. Or selfish. Or cruel. And it's not your job to fix them or understand them or forgive them."
Through the bond, I felt Asher's agreement, and Cole's, a unified front of gentle but firm correction.
"I'm not trying to excuse anyone," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "I'm just trying to—to make sense of things. To find patterns. To understand why people do terrible things so I can prevent it from happening again."
"To our children," Asher said quietly, understanding.
"Yes," I whispered. "To our children. To anyone I care about. I just want to understand."
Cole made a soft sound, something between sympathy and exasperation. "Remember when we watched that nature documentary? About the lions hunting on the Serengeti?"
I blinked at the sudden change of subject. "What?"
"You cried for the gazelle when it got caught," Cole continued, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But then you also cried for the lion cubs because they were hungry."
Despite everything, I felt my cheeks heat. "They were both suffering!"
"Exactly," Blake said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "You wanted the gazelle to escape and the lion cubs to eat. You felt bad for everyone involved."
"Because it was sad!" I protested. "The gazelle was scared, and the cubs were starving, and—"
"And that's the problem," Asher said gently. "You feel compassion for everyone, even when their situations are mutually exclusive. Even when some of them don't deserve it."
I fell silent, processing. Through the bond, I felt their affection mixed with concern—they loved my compassionate nature, but they worried it would be used against me. That I'd be taken advantage of. Hurt.
Again.
"I just..." I struggled to find the words. "I just wish the lion cubs could eat something that wasn't the gazelle. Something that didn't require suffering."
Blake let out a surprised laugh. "Like what? Convenience store sandwiches?"
"Maybe!" I said defensively, even as I felt my own lips twitch. "I don't know! I just don't like that someone has to suffer for someone else to survive!"
Cole was laughing now too, his whole body shaking with it. "Oh my god. You want to feed wild predators sandwiches."
"Shut up," I muttered, but I was smiling despite myself.
Blake pressed a kiss to my temple. "This is why you need us, baby. To remind you that sometimes the gazelle gets eaten, and that's just how the world works."
"And sometimes the lion goes hungry," Cole added. "And that's sad, but it's not your responsibility to fix it."
Asher's voice was warm when he spoke. "We love that you care so much. That you want to protect everyone and understand everything. It's one of the things that makes you perfect for being our Luna." He paused. "But we also need you to understand that you can't save everyone. And you shouldn't have to try."
I looked down at my hands, at the way they rested protectively over my still-flat stomach. Our babies were in there—three little lives that would depend on me to keep them safe, to teach them right from wrong, to help them navigate a world that could be beautiful and terrible in equal measure.
"I know I can't save everyone," I said quietly. "I just... I don't want to stop trying to understand. Because if I stop caring about why people do terrible things, if I just write them off as 'evil' or 'broken'... doesn't that make me cold? Hard?"
"No," Blake said firmly. "It makes you smart. It means you're protecting yourself and the people you love."
"There's a difference between understanding and excusing," Cole added. "You can acknowledge that Alexei probably had a hard life without forgiving him for what he did to that family. You can recognize that Viktor was trapped by Diana without absolving him of his role in your kidnapping."