Page 122 of Their Pretty Little Monster

Killian leads the way, his steps confident. Wolfe and Nyko flank me, the guards at our rear. Their closeness is reassuring, but my nerves come from what happens once we speak with my father.

As we climb the wide, ancient stone steps to the kingdom’s entrance, I recall the three visions I experienced—the kingdom how it once appeared in its beauty, the destruction, and a future I’m hoping won’t come to pass.

It makes me wonder if those nightmares I experienced growing up were my monster side calling for my home world, for me to return to Blight where I belonged. But what about my mother? I belong with her on Earth, too.

Sighing, I push those thoughts aside.

The sun is a relentless blaze overhead. Glancing at Wolfe and Nyko, I try to draw on their calm, but it’s hard. Wolfe’s arm tight around my waist is the only thing that feels stable. Nyko, with his smirk, seems like he’s ready to face down anything.

“Stay by my side, okay?”

“Of course,” I answer, as I have no intention of leaving their sides.

Before I can gather my thoughts, we reach the top of the steps, and the heavy door creaks open. It’s slow, making my heart beat faster.

Then they’re there—guards, if you can call them that. They’re out of a nightmare, all too real—oversized heads, horns like spears, and eyes… too many eyes, all of them calculating. They’re not just looking at us; they’re sizing us up, figuring out how to easily crush us underfoot.

Grinding my teeth, I hold still.

The guards finally step aside, faces unreadable. As they clear the path, a figure approaches from the dimness of the dark passage behind them.

My breath lodges in my lungs.

Is that him?

Violet eyes are the first thing to catch my attention. He has a round face and bone structure too similar to mine to ignore the similarities.

It’s him…

My father.

King Bren.

The monster of true nightmares. What did my mother see in him?

He’s in human form, dressed in a dark robe that absorbs the light, one shoulder slumped lower than the other, white hair pushed off his face. My stomach knots further.

“It’s been a long time, Wolfe,” he states in a tone echoing around us. “And I think it’s about time to meet after all these years.”

Wolfe clenches his jaw, a growl burning in his chest.

My father’s attention moves to me, and I’m struggling, facing the man who is supposed to be my dad. I try to steady my shaking hands, clenching them into fists at my sides. The emotions swell inside me. My heart races with an aching sorrow. It feels like my throat is closing up, choked with words I can’t voice. All the years of wondering, of imagining who he might be, and now here he is, just a few feet away. The urge to scream at him, to unleash all the questions and hurt, is almost overwhelming. Yet, here I am, struggling to swallow down the lump in my throat, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

His mouth pulls into a taut smile, and he knows who I am instantly.

“Wolfe told me he had found you, my child, Sage, but I didn’t believe it… until now.” His tone is gruff, as if he’s been chewing on rocks, but low and commanding.

“That’s me,” I manage to say nervously.

“I owe you a world of gratitude for bringing her to me,” he states to Wolfe. “Your kindness won’t go unnoticed.”

He reaches his hand out toward me, palm facing up, rings on each finger. “Come, daughter, we have so much to catch up on.” Despite his gesture of welcoming us, his gaze doesn’t hide the coldness behind them. I don’t move toward him.

Wolfe curls an arm around my back, drawing me against his side.

I stand rooted to the spot, my heart beating against my rib cage.

Wolfe’s arm tightens around me. “We didn’t come all this way to simply hand her over,” he asserts.

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