Page 76 of Turmoil's Target

My father, my daddy, the man I’ve spent years honoring, avenging...

A monster.

An abuser.

The revelation shakes me to my core, everything I thought I knew thrown into doubt.

If my father wasn’t who I believed him to be... then what does that mean for everything else?

What does it mean for me?

I pick up my fork, pushing the food around my plate aimlessly.

Grandad watches me, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Sera, poppet...” he begins gently. “This man you’ve grown close to. Do you care for him?”

Abe’s face flashes through my mind, those captivating aqua eyes, the warmth of his smile.

My heart clenches. “I... I do,” I admit haltingly. “But how can I trust him, Grandad? He was sent to get close to me, to gather information. It was all a lie.”

Even as I say the words, doubt niggles at me.

The tenderness in Abe’s touch, the genuine affection in his voice... could that really all have been an act?

Grandad takes a thoughtful bite of his pie, chewing slowly. “Perhaps,” he allows. “But perhaps not. If your feelings for him are true, and his for you... might it be worth having that conversation with him? Hearing his side?”

I stare down at my plate, my appetite gone.

Could I face Abe, knowing what I know now?

Knowing that the very foundation of my vendetta has crumbled beneath me?

And yet... the thought of never seeing him again, never feeling the safety of his arms around me, the brush of his lips on mine... it aches like a physical pain.

Maybe Grandad is right.

Maybe I owe it to myself, to Abe, to at least talk to him.

To find out if there's anything real to salvage from the wreckage of my life’s purpose.

“You’re right,” I say at last, my voice thin but resolute. “I need to talk to him. I need to know the truth.”

Grandad reaches over to squeeze my hand, his smile gentle and encouraging. “That’s my brave girl,” he murmurs. “The truth isn't always easy. But it’s always worth fighting for.”

I nod, drawing in a shaky breath.

For the first time in a week, the numbness inside me begins to thaw, replaced by a fragile flicker of hope.

I don’t know what the future holds.

But I know I have to face it head on, come what may.

Straightening my shoulders, I pick up my fork tucking it into the pie.

It’s time to start living for more than the ghosts of my past.

It’s time to fight for my future.

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