<b>Chapter </b>141
<b>-Alex’s </b>POV-
The first thing that registered when consciousness flickered back <b>was </b>Christian’s <b>face </b>hovering above me. My head throbbed and a relentless ringing filled my ears. But a primal urge cut through the pain – I had to get to them.
Christian helped me to my feet, my movements jerky and uncoordinated. Time was a preciousmodity, there was no room for hesitation or collecting my thoughts. I stumbled towards the direction of the st, my vision blurring at the edges.
Then I saw her, sprawled on the ground with two tiny bodies huddled beside her. A choked sound escaped my throat, a sound that <b>was </b>both relief and <b>terror </b>rolled into one<b>.</b>
<b>“</b><b>Get </b>them,” I rasped, my voice hoarse and raw. “I’ll get Amaya.”
Without waiting for a response, I rushed towards her, scooping her fragile form into my arms. It wasn’t until we were safely out of the warehouse that the weight of reality settled upon me. These weren’t figments of my imagination, a dream conjured by exhaustion or hope. They were real. Two lives, two children, products of Amaya and me.
And suddenly, I didn’t know what to feel. A maelstrom of emotions swirled within me – <b>fear</b>, confusion, a flicker of something akin to pride. How could I, someone raised by a monster, be <i>a </i>father? Not to one, but two children? The thought sent <i>a </i>fresh wave of nausea washing over me.
The questions gnawed at me relentlessly, growing louder with each passing moment. Until we reached the safe house, Natalia and Riley rushing forward to take the children from Christian. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to draw closer. I didn’t allow myself even look at them. A primal fear, <b>a </b>fear I hadn’t acknowledged since my mother’s death, gripped my heart. It was a fear of failure, a terror of not being good enough, of disappointing the <b>two </b>innocent lives I’d helped create and it remained like that after I ced Amaya on the bed and the doctor Riley had brought assured me that she would we fine.
<b>So </b>would they.
Christian’s voice was the only thing that had broke through the fog clouding my mind when he asked what was wrong, and for the first time in my life, the carefully constructed walls I’d built crumbled. I confessed everything – the fear of failing them, the crushing vulnerability I felt that my wolf was somehow gone, the fear that I would turn out to be exactly the monster my father raised me to be and I just didn’t know what to do or how <b>to </b>feel.
оша
My mind remained nk <b>as </b>we all crowded around the television, Adrian’s face filling the screen. His eyes gleamed with a predatory glint, a glint that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality, confirming my suspicion – he knew we were watching.
The only sound in the room was his voice, dripping with venomous satisfaction. “As you all know already, Alex Thorne is one of them,” he dered, his wordsced with malicious pleasure. “Part of the monsters that have been guing our world, masquerading as one of us<b>. </b>Did anyone ever wonder why humans would suddenly turn up dead with no usible exnation?”
<b>A </b>groan escaped <b>Natalia’s </b>lips. I knew what wasing next, the carefully crafted narrative designed to paint me <b>as </b>the ultimate viin. He would point to the recent war with Daniel<b>, </b>the coteral damage – humans caught in the crossfire. But he was twisting the narrative<b>, </b>weaving <b>a </b>web of lies <b>to </b>paint me <b>as </b><b>a </b>bloodthirsty monster.
–
Honestly, <b>I </b><b>was </b>too exhausted <b>to </b><b>care</b>. The usations washed <b>over </b>me like a wave<b>, </b>failing to stir even a flicker of emotions.
“Turn it <b>off</b>,” I mumbled suddenly.
<b>Every </b>head in the room snapped towards me<b>, </b>surprise etched on their <b>faces</b>.
“But we need to <b>hear </b>everything he <b>says</b><b>, </b><b>Sarah </b><b>protested</b>. “We need to know how to fight <b>back</b><b>!</b><b>”</b>
“There is no fight <b>back</b><b>,</b><b>” </b><b>I </b>countered, my <b>voice </b>devoid <b>of </b>emotion. “They’re <b>already </b><b>scared </b>of <b>us</b>. I was already the enemy, and now I’m the monster responsible for killing humans. <b>There’s </b>noing <b>back </b>from this.<b>”</b>
<b>Riley </b>opened her mouth to <b>argue</b>, but Christian silenced <b>her </b>with a gentle shake of his <b>head</b>. I felt Amaya’s <b>gaze </b>burning into me<b>, </b><b>a </b>silent question hanging heavy in the <b>air</b>. <b>With </b>a sigh <b>that </b>seemed to <b>carry </b>the <b>weight </b><b>of </b>the world, I turned and walked out.
<b>My </b>legs <b>felt </b>like lead weights, each step a tedious task. The throbbing in my <b>head </b>intensified with <b>every </b>beat <b>of </b>my heart. Everything hurt <b>– </b>physically<b>, </b>emotionally, my <b>very </b>soul <b>felt </b>bruised and <b>battered</b>.
All my life<b>, </b>I’d been trained by my father to be <b>powerful</b><b>. </b>Strength was the only currency he <b>recognized</b>, the onlynguage he understood. I was <b>supposed </b><b>to </b>be the <b>apex </b><b>predator</b><b>, </b><b>always </b>on <b>top</b><b>, </b><b>always </b><b>in </b>control. Dealing with situations, crafting <b>strategies</b><b>, </b><bing </b>out <b>on </b><b>top </b><b>– </b>that’s what I <b>did</b>. <b>But </b><b>for </b>the first time<b>, </b><b>I </b><b>felt </b><b>utterly </b><b>defeated</b>.
My heavy steps led me <b>towards </b>the room <b>where </b>the twins <b>were </b>sleeping<b>, </b>the same room <b>I’d </b>stood outside countless times these <b>past </b><b>two </b><b>days</b>, <b>always </b><b>disappearing </b>whenever they <b>were </b>awake and <b>today</b><b>, </b>my <b>feet </b><b>faltered</b><b>, </b><b>drawn </b>towards the door <b>yet </b><b>repelled </b>by an invisible <b>force </b>and like I <b>had </b>done for the <b>past </b><b>two </b><b>days</b><b>, </b><b>I </b>walked <b>away</b><b>, </b><b>my </b><b>feet </b>bringing <b>me </b><b>to </b>theke.
<b>1/2</b>
<b>10:44 </b><b>AM</b>
Chapter 141
<b>I </b>stared out at the <b>ssy </b><b>surface </b>of theke wondering if this was it. The end of my story. Everything I’d <b>ever </b>known, everything I’d strived for<b>, </b>reduced to <b>ashes </b><b>at </b>my feet. <b>Had </b>I truly lost it all? yed right into Ivan’s hands? With <b>a </b>sinking feeling, I realized I was ying the coward’s game<b>. </b><b>If </b><b>I </b>could just <b>muster </b>a <b>sliver </b>of fight, anything, <b>I </b>could find a way out of this, a way to turn things around. But everything felt so bleak.
The image of my children shed before my <b>eyes </b><b>– </b>two innocent lives <b>I </b><b>was </b>too terrified to even approach. And then there was Amaya. As if summoned by my thoughts, I heard her voice soft and hesitant behind me, “Natalia said you haven’t gone near them.”
It <b>felt </b>more like a statement than a question. The question hung heavy in the air, one I had no <b>answer </b>for, one <b>I </b>wasn’t sure she even expected an <b>answer </b>to. She moved <b>closer</b><b>, </b>the <b>space </b>between us shrinking until <b>we </b>stood shoulder to shoulder.
We fell silent, both of us mesmerized by the rippling reflection of the setting sun on theke’s surface. Finally, she spoke, “Thank you for keeping your promise. Thank you for saving us<b>.”</b>
Still, the words stuck in my throat, a lump forming there, refusing to be swallowed. She didn’t press for an answer, instead she sat down on the <b>grassy </b>bank. I looked down at her, her face was still bruised and she had injuries all over her body but she was healing. She gave me <b>a </b>small smile patting the <b>space </b>next to her. It took me a second for my body to sink to the ground then I sat beside her.
“What do you think our <b>lives </b>would have been like if you hadn’t rejected me?<b>”</b>
The question sliced through me but there was no anger in her voice, no usation. It <b>was </bced with a wistful longing that resonated deep within
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<li>me<b>.</b></li>
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“We would have been happy,” <b>I </b><b>rasped</b>, the words catching in my throat. “All four of us.”
<b>A </b>genuine smile bloomed on her face<b>, </b><b>a </b>smile that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken what–ifs. “We would have been,” she agreed, her voice thick with emotion.
Then, her gaze shifted, meeting mine head–on. <b>“</b>For years, I hated you,” she confessed, her voice trembling slightly. “Or maybe I forced myself to hate you. I couldn’t understand how you could just<b>… </b>throw everything away like it meant nothing.”
I opened my mouth to speak but she held up a hand, silencing me.
–
“Let me finish,” she pleaded, “I <b>was </b>so angry. The day before… the day before you threw me out, that’s when I found out. I <b>was </b>pregnant with not one, but two. We <b>were </b>going to be parents, Alex. And then, suddenly, I was left to raise them alone. It hurt, seeing Nate of you. But I had to love them, they were all I had left. Even when I married Ivan, even through all that… a part of me always knew it was you. It has he reminded me <b>so </b>much always been you and I am tired of holding on to this pain and anger.”
<b>Tears </b>welled up in her <b>eyes</b><b>, </b>glistening like tiny diamonds in the fading light. Without thinking, I reached out, my fingers brushing against the cool, damp skin of her cheek, gently wiping away a <b>tear</b>. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, her hand reached out, her fingers intertwining withContent bel0ngs to N?vel(D)r/a/ma.Org.
mine<b>.</b>
She closed her <b>eyes </b>for a moment, when she opened them again, <b>her </b>green eyes sparkled and she whispered, “I don’t want to fight anymore<b>. </b>I <b>forgive </b><b>you </b>for everything.”
And before <b>I </b>could even <b>process </b>the enormity of <b>her </b>words, before my mind could catch up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling within <b>me</b>, <b>she </b>closed the distance between <b>us</b><b>. </b><b>Her </b>lips met mine in a <b>kiss </b>– brief<b>, </b>barely a whisper of a touch, yet it <b>was </b>enough. Enough to <b>clear </b><b>up </b>the nk <b>space </b>in my <b>head</b>, <b>to </b><b>spark </b>life <b>back </b>into <b>me</b>.
No more running.
<b>As </b><b>she </b>pulled <b>away</b><b>, </b>a flicker of <b>steel </b>reced the vulnerability in <b>her </b><b>eyes</b>. “We need to make that bastard pay for everything,” she dered, her <b>voice </b><bced </b>with a <b>steely </b>resolve. “Make them all <b>pay</b>. It is time to fight back.”
<b>2/2</b>
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