Chapter 233
Kara
I sat curled in the window seat of my new suite, Cole's mint-scented hoodie wrapped around my shoulders—no, wait. Blake's fire-and-leather. I was still learning to tell them apart without thinking, though my wolf knew each mate's scent as well as her own heartbeat.
My fingers traced the three ice-blue sapphires on my engagement ring, watching them catch the afternoon light. The wedding planning binder Sophia and Emma had left lay forgotten beside me, pages of seating charts scattered across the cushions.
The babies shifted. Not quite movement yet—more like a flutter of awareness through the bond, as if they sensed my attention. My wolf preened—strong pups, Alpha bloodlines, ours—while my human mind still struggled with the reality.
Except they weren't men then. They were boys, as confused and damaged as I was.
Kara. Asher's voice sliced through my thoughts, sharp with tension. Your parents are here.
The binder slipped from my numb fingers.
You want to see them? Cole asked, gentler.
I couldn't answer. What I wanted was too complicated—a tangle of longing and resentment I hadn't had time to sort through. I wanted my parents. I wanted answers. I wanted to scream at them for leaving an eight-year-old in a snowstorm. I wanted to curl up in my mother's lap and pretend the last ten years were just a nightmare.
I don't know, I finally sent back.
Blake burst through my door before I could process further, crossing the room in three strides. He gathered me against his chest, one hand cradling my head while the other spread possessively across my lower back.
"Hey," he murmured into my hair. "Breathe, baby. You're not alone. Whatever you decide—we've got you."
His scent wrapped around me like armor. Through the bond, I felt Asher positioning himself in the hallway, putting himself between me and whatever was happening downstairs. Cole'smint-sharp presence reached for me, wordless support.
I pulled back enough to meet Blake's eyes. "I want to see them." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I need to ask them why."
Blake's jaw clenched, fire-scent spiking with rage—not at me, but at everyone who'd ever hurt me. Including himself.
"Then we go together." No room for argument in that tone. "You don't face them alone. Not ever again."
Through the bond, Asher's grim agreement, Cole's fierce affirmation.
I nodded against Blake's chest, breathing in his scent until my pulse steadied. "Okay."
He didn't let go immediately. His arms tightened, nose buried in my hair as he drew in my scent—white musk and fresh snow, now sweetened with the milky undertone of pregnancy. When he finally released me, one hand stayed at my back.
Asher waited in the hallway, dressed in the crisp black shirt he favored for official business. One look at my face and he stepped close, his ebony-and-tobacco scent mingling with Blake's fire.
"They're in the main hall," he said quietly. "With Victoria and Marcus. Dmitri brought them."
My grandfather. At least his presence meant Victoria couldn't control the narrative completely.
"Are they—" I hesitated, unsure what I was even asking.
"Alive," Asher said simply. "Beyond that, you'll have to judge for yourself."
Cole met us at the stairs, taking my free hand without a word. His thumb stroked across my knuckles, matching my heartbeat. Grounding me.
Together, we descended.
---
The main hall looked almost austere now, stripped of Victoria's excessive decorations. Connor and Celeste stood in a shaft of afternoon sunlight, and I couldn't breathe.
Connor looked nothing like I remembered. He'd been vibrant despite his struggles, with laugh lines and a crooked smile that made me feel safe. This man was gaunt, his deep golden curls—so like mine—shot through with gray.
Celeste gripped his arm like she was afraid he'd disappear. She'd always been beautiful—I had her large brown eyes and light brown skin—but now that beauty was haunted. Too thin. The navy dress didn't quite fit.
Victoria stood opposite, Marcus at her side. My former guardians who'd made me pay for their charity with ten years of servitude. Victoria's lily-and-cedar scent swung wildly between fury and something that might've been guilt.
Dmitri positioned himself near the fireplace like a referee. His pale eyes warmed when they found me. He started forward, then checked himself.
The tableau held. Then Connor's gaze found me, and his face crumpled.
"Kara," he breathed. "Oh God, Kara, I'm so—"
"If I'd known you would treat my daughter like this," he snarled at Victoria, voice cracking, "I would have left her with anyone before I left her with you!"
Victoria's lily scent spiked acrid. "Don't you dare. You abandoned her. You dumped your eight-year-old on my doorstep in a blizzard and disappeared for ten years. You have no right to judge—"
"Kept her in a storage closet?" Connor's laugh was ugly. "Made her work like a servant? She was a child, Victoria!"
"And what were you doing?" Victoria shot back. "Getting high? Gambling? You're addicts—"
"We were running for our lives!" Celeste's voice cut through, stronger than I expected. Her eyes—my eyes—were bright with tears. "If we'd stayed, Kara would have died. We thought she'd be safe with you. That you'd care for her like family."
"I did care for her!" Victoria's composure cracked. "I fed her, clothed her, gave her a roof—"
"You gave her the bare minimum," Dmitri interjected quietly. "And made her earn even that through labor. Don't pretend you showed my granddaughter kindness when you treated her like unpaid help."
Victoria went white, then red. "You have no idea what it was like. Having her here, looking at me with Celeste's face, a constant reminder that my brother—" She choked.
"That your brother made choices you didn't approve of?" Dmitri's tone was gentle but implacable. "Celeste didn't destroy Connor, Victoria. The Court did. Diana did. And you punished an innocent child for crimes she didn't commit."
I'd stopped halfway down the stairs, Blake's hand warm at my back, Asher and Cole flanking me. Their combined scents created a buffer, but it wasn't enough to shield me from hearing my childhood dissected like evidence.
I was so tired of being the object instead of the subject of my own story.
"Enough."
The word came out quiet, but something in my tone—or my scent, sharpened with pregnancy into something that demanded acknowledgment—cut through the argument.
Every eye turned. Connor's filled with tears. Celeste covered her mouth, a sob catching. Victoria's expression cycled through shame, defiance, and something too complex to name. Marcus looked uncomfortable. Dmitri gazed at me with fierce pride and grief.
I forced myself down the remaining stairs, each step deliberate. Blake moved with me, solid warmth at my back. Asher on my left, Cole on my right, forming a protective wedge.
I stopped three meters from my parents. Close enough to see Connor's trembling hands, Celeste's too-quick breathing. Far enough they couldn't touch me without permission.
Connor opened his mouth. I raised one hand.
"I don't want excuses," I said, voice steady despite the storm in my chest. "Not yet. Right now, I just want to know one thing."
I met my father's eyes.
"Do you regret it? Leaving me here. Do you regret that choice?"
Celeste's knees buckled. She went down hard, catching herself on Connor's arm before sinking into a crouch—pure wolf submission, acknowledging fault too profound for words.
"Every day," she whispered, tears streaming. "Every single day, Kara. I dream about you calling for me, and I can't reach you. They would have killed you, baby. Diana would have taken you when you were eight and used you up, and we couldn't—" Her voice broke. "We thought if we made it look like we'd died, if Victoria agreed to hide you..."
"We were wrong." Connor's voice was raw. He joined Celeste on the floor, knees hitting marble. "We were cowards and fools. We failed you. We thought leaving you here would give you a normal life. We never imagined Victoria would—" He glanced at his sister. "We never imagined it would be like this."
The tears came before I could stop them. "Normal?" The word strangled. "I slept in a storage closet for ten years. I was treated like a debt to be repaid, like I was worthless, like I didn't deserve to be seen. I thought—" I had to breathe through the vise crushing my chest. "I thought I wasn't worth loving. That there was something wrong with me that made my own parents choose drugs over keeping me."
My scent shattered—pain (sour), rage (sharp, metallic), despair (bitter as winter). The combination was so raw every wolf in the hall flinched.
Blake moved toward me. Asher's hand on his shoulder stopped him. Let her have this, Asher's thought whispered. She needs to say it.
Cole's mint reached for me like a cool hand, offering comfort without demanding I accept.