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I was taken back to the werewolf I’d seen with her, when I’d been younger, recalling how scary the situation had been.“They show us what they want us to see. The truth is that the right drugs, the right treatment, the right subject and anyone can seem dangerous. It doesn’t take much to drug up and torture a werewolf until they turn feral, then show it off and say, ‘look, they’re all monsters!’”
Both of my parents seemed to listen as Kit translated. Whether they believed me, whether it sank in or not, that I had no idea. It would likely take time, assuming they ever really understood.A part of me hated I even cared if they believed or understood me. It shouldn’t matter, not after all they’d done.
“You never would have spoken to us like this before,” my mother said. “You don’t seem like the same girl.”
“That’s because I spent a year locked away. Do you have any idea what life is like there? I was completely alone. They took away all my freedom, experimented on me, drugged me. I was attacked by guards and by other shades. That will change anyone. It made me realize that if I had one life, if I could only do this once, I was going to stop worrying about what other people thought, about what they wanted from me. It wasn’t turning into a shade that changed me—it was getting imprisoned at Larkwood.”
“The Warden said—”
Kit cut my father off before he could get the rest of whatever he planned to say out. “The Warden is at fault for her changing in the first place.”
“What?” My father’s voice held surprise and honest disbelief. Clearly, he had no idea of the Warden’s plans. Not that I ever really thought they’d had a part of it—my turning into a shade didn’t benefit them at all, and they did little that couldn’t help them.
Kit continued. “We found a lamp on the nightstand in her room with a crystal inside. The crystal creates small, concentrated tears that release high levels of source. That is the reason Hera changed and why her levels of source are far higher than anything we’ve seen before. She was an experiment—nothing more.”
My mother shook her head. “I’ve known Anna for years. She’d never do something like that.”
Hearing the Warden’s real name felt strange to me. She was always ‘the Warden’ at Larkwood, with no one uttering her actual name, as if it were a spell that might risk drawing her attention. Hearing it now almost humanized her.
“She’s gotten a lot of extra favors from you to keep me out of sight, hasn’t she? That’s probably why she never mentioned to you that I escaped, because she wants to keep getting things from you. The well dries up for her without me.”
My mother pressed her lips together, a clear sign she accepted at least some of what I said. Then again, my parents might have been shitty parents, but they were very intelligent. When presented with obvious information, they wouldn’t ignore them just because they didn’t like them, especially if that information made it clear they were being used or taken advantage of.
“I don’t know about all this,” my father said with a conflicted expression. “But I’m glad you came.”
Something struck me, a sound that pulled at me even if I wasn’t sure why. It made me close my eyes and filter through all that background noise, the sounds that rested on the peripherals of my senses. I identified and abandoned conversation after conversation—a couple having an affair, a woman calling her nanny to check on her kids, the waitstaff complaining about the rude party guests.
Then I found it. “Have you seen her? Her hair might be different.”
“Not yet. I studied the men’s faces, too, so if any of them are here, I’ll know.”
My blood ran cold at that, at the realization that they could only mean me. It meant Larkwood had guards here looking for me.
I turned my gaze to Kit, my eyes wide. The way he tensed said he read my expression correctly.
“It seems our meet and greet is over. Larkwood guards are here.” He offered my parents a hard look. “I’d say if you ever cared about her at all, you should not mention having seen her, but I don’t honestly believe that would make a difference to either of you. Instead, I will say something that will likely strike deeper for you. If either of you value your own lives and future, do not cause her any additional trouble.”
Kit’s tone left no room for misunderstanding his meaning. It was a threat—plain and simple.
My parents nodded, offering him a startled look. Their life had people who threatened more subtly, who could destroy a person’s reputation and legacy, but not ones who would attack a person physically.
“No matter what you believe about me, I loved my daughter,” my father said.
The use of loved past tense spoke volumes, didn’t it?
He didn’t move closer, locked in some sort of battle of wills with Kit.
My mother, meanwhile, stared at me. I sighed, once again disappointed. It was hard to admit, but I’d secretly wanted them to give a damn. I’d wanted to stand before them and have them realize what a huge mistake they’d made. I’d dreamed of them telling me that they were sorry, that they’d been wrong, that they understood now and wouldn’t send me away again.
I didn’t get any of that, though.
I struggled to hide my disappointment in how they’d failed me yet again.
I let out a slow breath, then turned to walk out.
A hand wrapped around my arm, and I turned ready to see what Kit wanted, only to find it wasn’t him. It was my mother. She pulled me into a tight hug, one that felt nothing like what I’d experienced from her before.
Normally hugs with my parents felt like a show. They rarely happened unless others were around, unless they were expected and furthered the lie of a happy family. This was nothing like that. Instead, my mother clutched me tightly, her fingers digging into my back, holding onto me as if afraid to let go.
