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“Do you think I could write about what's happened to me these last few months?” I asked.
His eyebrows climbed, a soft hum leaving him as he pondered the question.
“You could,” he started. I nodded along, noting how he was slow to agree. “It comes with some risk, of course. I think the main one is your mental health—once people can reach you, they’re going to tear you apart. Verbally, I mean. Nobody will touch you here.”
Auren was just as protective of people as his brothers, it seemed, because even the thought of someone trying to physically hurt me had his brows furrowing.
“I think overall it's a good idea, though. Most rational people are going to feel sorry for you once they realize you’re just a person trying to live their life, yet you’ve been thrown into this chaos.”
I hadn’t considered how people would view me, honestly. Of course, the controversy that I would generate by coming forward with my story would just be stirring the political pot more, but maybe we could use it. We’d used the rest of the drama to get a leg up, after all.
“Do you think I should leave out the stuff that happened in the Free Kingdom?” I asked. The fae weren't directly targeting us yet, so maybe poking that bear was best left to someone else.
To my surprise, though, Auren smirked. “Hell no. Tell everyone the crazy shit they’re doing over there. I’m sick of them getting away with it and managing to look like the better option.”
I almost asked him why he was so passionate but thought better of it. There was no telling what he’d come across in his digging lately. I was also hesitant to hear any of it—I’d certainly regretted reading some of the stuff I’d come across in mine.
“You make it sound easy,” I said.
As if this whole thing didn’t have the horrible potential to blow up in our faces, Auren just shrugged. “It is. If they didn’t want people to think poorly of them, they shouldn’t be doing heinous things. All you’re doing is being honest.”
The thought that Michaelson might pay for it crossed my mind. But surely not now that they were marrying him off to Lucia, right? Her status as Princess had to afford him some protection.
“Besides,” Auren continued, “it’s the same tactic they’re using to destabilize the Upper Council. It only takes one person speaking up to start a chain reaction, and people deserve to know that it's all bullshit. They’re kidnapping kids under the guise of wanting to be parents, yet killing half of them when they don’t meet their expectations. It’s really no better than what the Upper Council does.”
He wasn’t wrong. It was a thought I’d had a few times since we made it to the safety of the Resistance camps, myself. The Free Kingdom toted themselves like they were so progressive and accepting, but it was all a lie.
They ranted about hybrid safety, but it was only so they could collect us and try to make their perfect little babies—and the babies who didn’t fit that mold got thrown out like garbage.
All the children Blossom had mothered and let be murdered by her husband because she was so far in denial, all the parents who’d been forced to hand over their children because their leaders were so unhinged they couldn’t accept that maybe they weren’t meant to have kids of their own…
It was sick. I shuddered just thinking about it.
I decided to make myself comfortable in the youngest Ambrose’s home and write my first article, all while cringing as I remembered the gory details of how we’d narrowly escaped Azazel the first handful of times, then ultimately been captured by the Upper Council. Meanwhile, Auren spun back around and started tapping away at his own keyboard.
It wasn’t until I wrapped things up by describing what it was like to be locked away from my mate that I finally started to get sick of staring at the screen. Clearly, I’d spent too long without one if I couldn’t even make it a total of five hours.
My body was itching to move, and my eyes were burning, so I finally gave up trying to push through it in favor of standing with a stretch. Auren gave me a curious look, fingers dancing across his own keyboard as I began gathering my things up to leave.
I said my goodbyes and headed back to my own little house, thinking about what Atlan had said about making a life here. Could Sariel and I be happy here? I was sure we could tosomedegree, but neither of us wanted to stay in this lifestyle forever. It was hard to let myself imagine what our future would look like here at the compound after everything, especially without my sister.
Not that Neo and Reese and everyone else weren't great, but we’d only just met them in comparison to the lifetime I’d had with Rebecca. Now that I’d started to put down some roots here, her absence was almost overwhelming. I missed her, Harry, and the girls—even the thought of them being off somewhere without me, where I couldn’t protect them if something went wrong, irked my angel.
My wolf, too, but my angel was the one with all the righteous fury boiling up and out of her all the time.
I got it, mostly. We’d been torn away from everyone we knew and loved over something we couldn’t control, and we’d nearly been killed for it several times. Not to mention the absolute insanity that had taken place with the rulers of the Free Kingdom wanting our baby and whatever nonsense Lucifer was playing at. Ishouldbe angry; I had every right to be.
And yet…
I blew out a breath as I walked into our bedroom, flopping onto the mattress and staring at the ceiling. My laptop clattered as I dropped it onto Sariel's side of the bed; I winced as the charger slid across the smooth surface and thumped to the floor.
Anxiety was still twisting my gut about putting my story out there. I’d used a cute little free domain and slapped a basic theme on it just so I didn’t turn away curious eyes immediately. I couldn’t quite convince myself to put it on my usual sites for fear of what would happen to the people running them, but the generic hosting site seemed safe enough. They didn’t know me, and I didn’t know them, so any culpability should theoretically fall right off of them if the Upper Council realized what I had done.
So why did I fill with dread at the thought? I didn’t have to tell my story if I didn’t want to. It was mine, and nobody had a right to it.
But I wasinspired. I wanted to be brave like all the other people crying out over the unfairness of it all. That’s what I loved to do—write, advocate, and tell people the truth about things. I wanted to be out there with them, fighting against injustice in my own way.
I rolled onto my stomach with new determination, opening the laptop and forcing myself to write through the tension headache building around my temples.
