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“What is she?” I ask my mother in horror. Her eyes soften, and she glances at Temperance limp in my arms. Yet, I hear the sincerity in her voice, hear the anguish in her voice.
“I don't know, her fate was never mine to control, just as Kyan's wasn't. I wish I knew, but I can only see what's created by the moon.”
“What does that mean? WHAT DOES ANY OF THAT MEAN!” I scream at her, feeling desperation rise in my chest. She looks at me sadly.
“You're the moon goddess! You should have all these answers. You should know!”
“I wish I knew, Eziah, I could only see what I was allowed to see, what you know is what I know. What you saw of her in the fountains is what I saw. My hands are tied, I can't help something I don't understand,” she tries to reason as Kyan suddenly shifts and starts walking toward us.
“I can't fight for her if I don't know what I am fighting against, mother,” I spit at her.
“Then stop fighting, I learned with Marabella that sometimes things aren't worth fighting for, sometimes they are worth embracing, surrendering to them.” I go to argue when she holds up a hand.
“Not forever, but until we figure this out,” my mother tells me.
“And how do you suggest we figure this out!” I snap at her when Kaif's huge furry form comes up behind her.
“By finding my brother!” he states.
“And where is he?” I growl, stomping off toward the manor.
“Not where is he, but who is he?” my mother yells out behind me, and I stop. Turning on my heel, I look at her.
“Who?” I ask while looking between her and Kaif.
“Bane,” my mother smiles.
“Bane? As in Bain, the mute giant from the Moon Goddess realm? Seline’s Bain?” I ask in shock. Kaif huffs.
“Clearly, he hasn't changed then,” Kaif mumbles, folding his arms across his chest.
My mother stops next to me, her hand cupping my face. “We'll get the answers you need, son. But first we have a funeral to attend, then it's time to go home.”
ChapterFifty-Four
Rose
“Ten minutes, Casey, then we need to get dressed,” I call out as I sit on the top step and watch her rush toward the swings. Malik’s funeral is today, and I will have to face Rebecca, Alisha, and Marley. Yet, the moment I sit down, I feel them, feel the eyes of my pack watching me.
When did trauma become normal? At what point did it become accepted? I feel their judgmental eyes peering at the wreckage of my house. Is it pity in their eyes? Or are they judging me for putting up with it for so long? Or are they wondering what sort of Alpha I'd be if I let my mate treat me so badly? Sure, one could pick apart my faults. Point out opportunities I had to speak up. They see my weaknesses and point them out like I am not already aware of them.
My skin crawls at their attention, I nervously glance around before remembering he isn't here. He is not breathing down my neck, not watching to see if I am stepping out of the character he made me into.Act normal, Rose, act normal.
Hearing footsteps behind me, I tense, instinct kicking in. “It's Casen, Rose, calm down,” Poppy, my wolf, urges. His scent hits me a moment later, and the tension in my body lifts slightly. Yet doesn't leave completely.
Casen sits next to me on the top step, his hand moves to my knee. I'm unusually antsy this morning. I didn't wake to rough hands, or hungover slurs, I don't know how to act, I don't know how to be. It's like being thrown into an unnatural environment, everything is alien, I find my reactions in tune with another reality.
Act normal, Rose, act normal!
But how do you act normal when your normal is not theirs? What is normal?
“You okay?” Casen asks, and I stare at him, seeing the same face that haunted me for years. It takes my mind a few seconds to recognize the softness in his eyes, and the question in his words. Vince never cared enough to ask if I was okay. And heaven forbid I complain about anything, so I find myself staring blankly at him. Unable to answer a simple question.
“Say something, Rose,” Poppy urges, and I swallow thickly. “Casey loves the park, I'll get her ready soon, so we can go, but if you want to leave earlier, I can get her ready now?” I tell him, turning my attention back to Casey swinging back and forth, with a smile on her face.
“That isn't what I asked, Rose,” Casen murmurs. It takes me a minute to realize I went back to habit. Directing attention away from me, it's something I do when my parents question. Redirection, avoid, don't answer, what if it gets back to him?
I don't say anything, I don't know how or what to say. The feeling of walking on eggshells is a dread that affects every part of daily life. Every step taken, every word spoken is a calculated risk—will this be the moment that shatters the fragile peace?
