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I wanted to hurt him like I hurt.
I wanted him to grieve like I grieved.
I wanted him to admit that Aslan didn’t deserve to die.
“He was your son, Cem Kara. He might have the morals of the people who raised him, but deep inside, he was yours.”
His voice turned sharp. “Tell me.”
“I was raped when I was seventeen. Aslan was the one to find me. I asked him if he’d kill for me...he agreed.” My hand tightened around my phone. “He hacked off two of my rapist’s fingers. He shot him in the left calf with a harpoon. He would’ve cut off his cock and scooped out his eyes if I hadn’t stopped him. Even in that haze of fury, he listened to me. Protected me. But...he didn’t obey me when I told him not to kill him.”
“My son killed someone?”
“Does that hurt you, knowing that? Knowing he was more like you than you realised? That you murdered your son before you even got to know him?”
Silence.
More silence.
Finally, Cem cleared his throat. “I am sorry you endured rape, and I am glad my son did his best to make it right. I bid you safe travels, Nerida. I will permit you to remain in my country for seventy-two hours. Eat our food. Explore our city. But then go home to your daughter. Or...I will escort you back myself. I look forward to your call next year, kizim.”
He hung up.
My arm fell into my lap.
I began to shake.
To quake.
God...w-what have I done?
What on earth possessed me to say such things?
Why confess what Aslan had done when it didn’t make a shred of fucking difference?
It didn’t reincarnate him.
It didn’t summon him from the grave.
I...I know why.
My trembling hands curled around my phone as my teeth clenched.
I did it to rip out Cem’s cold, dead heart.
To stab a blade of doubt that his son and heir was still his, regardless that Aslan fought against his true nature most of the time.
Violence flowed in his veins.
Ferocity and viciousness were as much a part of Aslan as protectiveness and affection.
He was a lion, after all.
And lions could love their pride all while shredding their enemies into pieces.
I hope Cem is cursing himself.
I hope he’s hurting.
