Chapter 234
Kara
"Kara." Victoria's voice cracked. She'd moved closer without me noticing. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I have no excuse—"
"You're right," I cut her off, not looking at her. My eyes stayed on my parents. "You don't. None of you do. But at least you—" I gestured at Connor and Celeste. "At least you thought you were protecting me. What's Victoria's excuse? What's her reason for looking at a terrified eight-year-old and deciding she deserved to suffer?"
Victoria made a sound like she'd been struck.
"I was a child." My voice rose. "I was scared and alone and I didn't understand why you'd left. And instead of helping, instead of showing me even basic kindness—" I looked at Victoria. "You made me earn my meals. Sleep in a closet. You let your sons torment me and never once asked if I was okay. You saw me every day, Victoria. And you chose to look away."
Victoria's lily scent went chaotic. "Your mother—"
"Is standing right there," I interrupted. "And she's not responsible for your choices any more than I am. You don't get to blame Celeste for how you treated me. That was all you."
Silence fell, heavy. My parents on their knees, looking up with anguish. Victoria frozen, tears tracking down her face. Marcus shifting uncomfortably.
My three Alphas—I felt them through the bond. Blake wanted to destroy someone. Asher was running calculations, trying to fix the unfixable. Cole ached to comfort me but held back.
Dmitri stepped forward, moving carefully until he stood beside Connor and Celeste. His pale eyes held mine.
"You have every right to your anger," he said softly. "Every right to demand answers, refuse forgiveness, make us prove we deserve your time." He paused. "But I hope—when you're ready—you'll let us try. Not to erase the past. We can't. But to build something better. Something worthy of you."
I wanted to stay angry. Use rage as armor against the vulnerability of hoping. But I was so tired of being angry. So exhausted by ten years of resentment.
And there was something else. Something I hadn't let myself acknowledge until now.
I didn't want my children to grow up surrounded by hatred.
My hand moved to my abdomen, pressing against the slight swell. Three tiny heartbeats flickered there. Already I would burn the world to protect them. Already I would do anything to give them better than I'd had.
That meant breaking the cycle.
"I could hate you," I heard myself say, voice steadier. "All of you. I could spend my life making you pay." I paused, fingers splaying over my stomach. "But I don't want that. I don't want my children born into a family built on resentment."
Connor made a choked sound. Celeste's eyes widened, gaze dropping to my hand.
"I'm going to be a mother," I continued, feeling my way toward truth. "I'm going to be this pack's Luna. I can't do either if I'm still living in the past, still defined by what was done to me instead of what I choose now."
I looked at Victoria. "What you did was cruel. I'm not pretending those wounds don't exist or that they'll heal just because I've decided to stop picking at them. But I see you're trying. Slowly. Painfully. But trying. And for my children's sake, for the family I'm building—" I glanced at my Alphas. "With my mates, I'm willing to give you a chance. Not forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But a chance."
Victoria's control shattered. She pressed both hands to her face, shoulders shaking. Marcus moved to her side, one hand on her back.
I turned back to my parents. "Connor. Celeste." Using their names felt strange. "You abandoned me. I can't change that, and I won't pretend it didn't happen. But I also understand you might have been making an impossible choice. That you might have truly believed leaving me was the only way to keep me alive."
"It was," Connor said hoarsely. "Diana had already killed three children trying to find the right vessel for—" He stopped, looked at Celeste. "For your mother's consciousness. Three little girls. We couldn't let you be the fourth."
"I know." And I did now. Knew about Diana's obsession. Knew my parents spent ten years as consciousness in serpent forms. Knew they'd sacrificed everything to keep me from that fate.
Knowing didn't make it hurt less. But it made sense.
"I need time," I said finally. "Time to get to know you again. Not as the parents who left, but as who you are now. Not as that eight-year-old waiting for you, but as who I am. A woman. A mate. A mother."
Celeste made a sound between sob and laugh. Wonder and grief warred in her voice. "How far along?"
"Weeks. Just a few weeks. But—" I glanced at my mates. "Triplets. Three Alphas means three babies."
Connor's eyes widened. He looked from me to Blake, Asher, and Cole. "The Sterling triplets. Of course. The bond would have—" He shook his head. "I don't have the right to—"
"Not yet," I agreed quietly. "But maybe—if you're willing to do the work, be present instead of just guilty—maybe someday."
Hope flared in their faces, fragile and desperate. Celeste gripped Connor's hand.
"I'm getting married," I continued. "In a month. A winter wedding." I looked around the hall. "I want you all there. Connor. Celeste. Victoria. Marcus. Dmitri. Everyone. Not as strangers. Not as obligation. But as family. Complicated, broken, still-figuring-it-out family."
I pressed my hand more firmly against my abdomen. "I don't want my children wondering why their grandmother won't look at them, or why their grandparents are strangers, or why everyone's carrying decades of resentment. I want better for them. Which means I have to start building better now."
Dmitri crossed to me with deliberate care, stopping just out of reach. "That is the wisdom of a true Luna. Not power through dominance, but healing through compassion." He looked at Victoria. "You should be grateful your granddaughter is stronger than any of us deserved."
Victoria lowered her hands. "I am. Grateful and ashamed and—" She looked at me directly, really looked, maybe for the first time since I was eight. "Thank you. For giving us a chance we don't deserve."
I didn't respond. Wasn't sure I could. Instead, I looked at my parents, still kneeling.
"Get up. Please."
They rose together, Connor helping Celeste when her legs threatened to give out.
Celeste took a tentative step forward, stopped when I tensed. "Can I hug you? Or is that—"
"Not yet," I said, hating how it hurt her but knowing my limits. "I can't. But maybe soon. If you're still here. If you don't—"
"We're not leaving," Connor said firmly. "Not ever again. Not unless you tell us to. Even then, we'll only go as far as you need. You'll never have to wonder where we are, Kara. I swear it."
Through the bond, Blake's approval, Asher's cautious optimism, Cole's gentle encouragement.
Marcus cleared his throat. "Connor, Celeste—Dmitri's arranged accommodations on pack lands. You'll be under guard. Not as prisoners. As protection. Diana may be dead, but the Court isn't."
"That includes you," Asher added, speaking to my parents for the first time. Cool. Professional. "You'll also undergo addiction counseling and regular monitoring. Any relapse, you're removed immediately."
Connor's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Understood. We've been—Dmitri's been helping us. Three months clean. It's not much—"
"It's a start," I interrupted quietly. "That's all any of us have. A start."
The tension shifted, not breaking but bending. Victoria and Marcus moved toward the door. Dmitri stayed near my parents.
I turned toward the stairs, suddenly exhausted. Blake's hand found my back immediately, Asher and Cole closing in.
"Kara." Victoria's voice stopped me. I looked back. "Thank you. For everything. For giving us another chance." She paused. "Your children will know their grandmother. I promise. And they'll never doubt they're wanted."
I didn't trust my voice, so I nodded.
As we climbed, Blake at my back and Asher and Cole flanking me, I felt something shift in my chest. Not peace—I wasn't sure I'd ever achieve that. But something like the beginning. The possibility of moving forward instead of just away.
Behind us, Dmitri's low voice guiding my parents. Victoria's heels clicking. The soft crackle of the fireplace.
For the first time in my life, what home might sound like when it wasn't a prison.