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“It didn’t have to,” I say, staring at my mother’s grave. “Gran had a better idea for how the community could be run. I don’t know why you couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
“She was a better person than me,” he nods. “She believed in a world where everyone had a shot, no one lived in fear. And for a while, it worked.”
“Until you took over.”
My father’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like he might snap. Any other time, he would slap me, tell me I’m impertinent.
But then the tension eases.
I guess things are different here, at my mother’s grave.
“I did what I thought necessary,” he says. “Protecting our people comes with hard choices.”
“Choices that cost lives,” I say, unable to mask the bitterness seeping into my tone.
“Choices that kept us alive,” he counters, his eyes drilling into mine. “Sometimes survival isn’t pretty.”
“Survival doesn’t justify everything,” I retort, the words like shards of glass in my mouth.
“Maybe not,” he concedes. “But it’s all we have.”
We stand in silence, the air heavy with words unsaid, and grief that’s never quite settled. I can see the weight of his world etched into the lines of my father’s face, a lifetime of decisions that he wears like armor.
“Come on,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “Let’s get you back.”
“Fine,” I reply, one last look at my mother’s name carved into stone before I turn away, leaving behind the dead and their peace, heading back into a world where peace feels like just another word for war.
We walk back in silence, the graveyard’s stillness a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me. My father’s boots crunch on the gravel, the only sound between us as we leave the rows of tombstones behind. I catch him sneaking glances at me, like he’s trying to read my thoughts. But he won’t find what he’s looking for—not today.
“ACB agents,” I finally say, breaking our silence. “They got to you, didn’t they?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “They showed me reality, Aisling. Our Garden was a fantasy ready to be crushed.”
“Fantasy or not, people believed in it. My mother believed in it,” I snap, the words hot and fast. “She died for it.”
“Your mother…” He trails off, looking away, toward the ocean where the sky darkens with the promise of rain. “Moriah never should have died. That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Plans change when you decide omegas are second-class citizens.”
“Protection, Aisling. It was all about protection.” His voice is firm, but I hear the crack. “The alphas from Pacific City would have torn through us.”
“Better them than you, huh?” My voice is a whip, lashing out before I can stop it.
“Listen to me,” he says, grabbing my arm, forcing me to face him. “I did what needed to be done. We were exposed, vulnerable. Omegas in charge…it was only a matter of time before chaos hit.”
“Chaos hit when you took over!” I wrench my arm away from his grip. “You talk about protection while you trampled your own mother’s dream. And my mother…she paid with her life trying to get away from your new regime.”
My father looks at me then, really looks at me, and in his eyes, I see something raw, something that resembles regret. “I’ve made choices I can’t undo, Aisling. I’ve lived with that every day since the escape.”
“Living isn’t enough. Not when so many others aren’t.”
We reach the edge of town, the rain falling in earnest now. I pause before we go any further, not wanting to go back to my cell.
“Did you ever think maybe it was you who brought the destruction?” My question hangs in the air, heavy with accusations and truths we both know but never say.
“Every goddamn day,” he says quietly.
“You know…that night was so awful for me that I forgot for years,” I tell him. “It’s why I didn’t come home—because I couldn’t. I didn’t even know who I was, Dad. And then, I remember everything, and you’re the biggest villain in my story.”
