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Dad follows, pulling the door closed behind us. “Everything.” My eyes slide back and forth between theirs. “I know what you did at this Academy, Mom. I know I’m not—”
“No,” Mom blurts, a shake in her voice. “Stop right there.” She looks at my dad, her own tears threatening to fall. “Kol,” she mutters in a sympathetic tone, “I always feared this day would come.”
My dad reaches out, grabs my mom’s hand, then mine, and squeezes us both. “So did I.”
Eyebrows squeezed, I twist my head. “Wait. You know?”
“I know you’re my daughter in all the ways that matter. That’s all anyone needs to know. And I’ll be damned if Sebastian Saint is going to hurt our family.”
“But…” I sniffle and croak, “I’m not a Blue Blood. I can’t stay.”
“Prove it,” he deadpans. “That’s what I’ll say to anyone who tries to tell us otherwise. Prove that I’m not your father. That you’re not a Blue Blood. Because they can’t. They’d have to run a DNA test on every member of The Society for generations to prove that your blood isn’t pure.”
“But Jeremy Beckett…”
“Is dead. And he’s never coming back.”
“What if they’re all wrong, though. What if I really am your daughter?”
Dad places his hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eye as he says, “You are my daughter and a DNA test is not going to tell me otherwise. It’s why I never wanted one. Because, for one, it doesn't matter. And two, there doesn’t need to be anything out there that someone can use against us one day.”
Mom breaks down, sobbing quietly into the sleeve of her beige down-filled jacket. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to see the light of day. I’m so ashamed of what I did back then.”
“I’m not,” Dad says. “In fact, I’m grateful because it gave us our daughter. If it weren’t for that forbidden relationship, we wouldn't have any children at all. So we’ll all keep this secret, and I’ll make sure Sebastian will as well. Don’t you worry about him.”
My mom and dad once told me they tried to have more kids, but weren’t able to, but it didn’t matter because they had me and I completed our circle. I never questioned how I was conceived; yet, they couldn't have another. Just assumed it was because of the time that had passed as I got older.
“So we just go on with our lives like the truth doesn’t exist?”
Before either of them can respond, the meeting room door flies open and Sebastian steps out. With a stern finger pointed at me, he hisses, “You don't belong here.”
Dad slaps Sebastian’s finger away, then he grabs him by the wrist, twisting and bending, until his only option of getting free is to beg for mercy.
“I’ve put up with your shit for far too long, Sebastian, and that ends now. You leave my family alone or it’ll be yours that pays the price because my skeletons might have fallen out, but yours are still hiding and I know exactly where to find them.”
“Good luck with that. I run this whole goddamn state, and I have the power, Kol. Not you. Not your wife. And sure as hell not your half-bred snake of a daughter.”
Sebastian looks me dead in the eye and hisses like a snake himself. “You stay away from my son, and when Maddie comes home, you stay the hell away from her, too.”
I roll my eyes, smirking, my way of telling himnot a chance in hell.
Dad shoves Sebastian away, then he straightens his jacket when the others join us.
“Well,” Mrs. Vance says, “I see we’ve made little progress. I suggest we all go home and leave the kids be. Crew has ascertained that all the students are safe here. I’ve made a call to the headmaster, who says there have been no reports of any incidents.” She pats Sebastian’s shoulder, then curls her lip at her hand, showing her own disgust for the guy. “Luna and I will continue our search for Maddie. Good luck with the election. We all hope you get everything you’ve ever wanted this term.”
Mrs. Vance presses a chaste kiss to my cheek. “See you at Thanksgiving, sweetie.” Then my mom’s. “Coffee this Sunday?” Mom nods in response.
The Vances leave, along with Crew, who walks them out, followed by Sebastian. Jagger’s dad shakes hands with my father, then bids me and my mom goodbye. Jagger, however, stays.
Dad shifts his attention to Jagger. “That’s my little girl right there.” He points at me, smiling before it drops quickly. “Hurt her and you answer to me.”
Jagger swallows hard then nods. “Not a chance.”
After a lengthy, tight hug, my parents leave with the notion that we’ll talk more about everything when they pick me up for Thanksgiving break in a couple weeks.
It’s just Jagger and I when the door opens back up and Crew comes inside. His cheeks are red from the cold and he shakes the snow from his boots. “It’s coming down harder.”
He closes the door behind him then steps into our circle. “So,” he begins, “what the hell was that all about?”
