Page 36 of Omission: Part 2

Raw furry erupts and before Leo can stop me, I’m slamming the unlocked front door wide open, ignoring the heinous bronze knocker and landing a punch straight onto Chiara’s face. Blood splatters seconds after impact, coating my face and shirt while the banshee beneath me screams in agony.

Her nose is broken, and I hit her there again and again until the skin breaks and a fragment of cartilage hangs loose from the opening. I give her everything in me: the pent-up rage and agonizing pain I’ve felt these years.

The need to avenge all the lives lost. The rejected innocents who had their chance at a second love pairing stolen from them.

From elbows to punches—scratches that leave gouges on her cheeks before I’m pulled off by a pair of strong hands. I’m tucked against a strong chest as the scent of chocolate and cloves brings me down from a plane of ire I’ve never experienced before.

The people they’ve hurt…

I turn in Leonardo’s arms, ready to launch myself on her again, but what I find is a horrified Lena and an unconscious Chiara, the latter of which has been beaten to the point of rapid facial swelling and a spreading puddle of blood beneath her head.

She’s alive, her chest rising and falling, and I find myself feeling no remorse for what I’ve done.

The bitch deserves it and more.

“You—” Whatever Lena was going to say dies on her evil tongue when my head snaps in her direction. Instead, she shifts closer to my grandfather, who looks down at her kneeling form in disgust.

“Take me to her.”

“I can’t. There’s no?—”

“You are in no position to speak, but since you prefer things to be done the hard way, I’ll appease you, old witch.” Leonardo’s tone reverberates throughout the foyer, the same place they ambushed my mother and me all those years ago, and he unleashes an animalistic growl full of command—the decree of a king to his subject. “You will stand, lower your head, and take us to Amelia without uttering a single word. Understood?” The witch nods and he adds power to the command, the weight almost too heavy for her, and her knees shake. “Now. Move it.”

Without the ability to fight it, Lena turns and we walk deeper into the house and toward a small door in the kitchen. It’s locked. The thick metal has a combination sequence she doesn’t know, but that doesn’t stop my male.

He rips the door off its hinges, tossing the thick wood toward the hallway while my grandfather carries a still-passed-out Chiara in his arms down the stairs.

Thiswas Grand-Père’s stipulation after asking for his help. He goes first, saving me from what could be worse than never-knowing.

Because speculations still hold a glimmer of hope, while raw evidence robs you of possibilities for a happier future.

“Clear.” One word, and I move to rush down the steps, but Leo doesn’t allow it. After pointing at the old witch to walk down, I’m swept up in his arms and carried until we reach the cold basement floor.

Goddess. I’m struck speechless.

“My poor child. My people.” Grandpa drops Chiara and her body bounces, the concrete not the friendliest of surfaces, and another split in her skin appears.

She no longer has a healthy glow. Instead, she’s bruised and bleeding, just like the four women inside the room.

Yet it’s the one at the center with a dirty drip embedded into the crook of her elbow via a large needle that I’m focusing on. While my mate starts to release the weakened woman, tears roll down my eyes as a shocked sob leaves me. Her face is pallid and her eyes sunken in, but Queen Amelia’s beauty can never be dulled.

She still smells of lilies and home, of moments spent outside in her garden as a young child helping her plant those fragrant blooms. Of kisses on the cheek for a job well done and stories in her bed when she grew too weak to stand.

All this time, they’d been tearing her apart, but this…

“Maman,” I whisper low, my steps rushing to her as her father releases her feet first and then hands from her bindings, being careful not to further injure her.

The needle comes out next and she grimaces, eyes slowly opening just enough to see me, and then whispers a five-word greeting.

“Anaya, my brilliant little queen.”

“I’m here.” My palms begin to glow as my gift rises to the surface, and I place them on either side of her head. I’m feeding her enough of my essence to transport her out of here, something Leo worries about—his concern causing me to pull back as Mother’s cheeks becomes less gaunt and her eyes snap wide open.

And once I know she’s secure, it’s my turn to pass out. The second heartbeat picks this moment to make his presence known—strong and demanding it so.

* * *

When I come to,I’m inside of Wiccan territory with my mother lying in a hospital bed to my right, her face watching me in wonder. Tears form in her violet orbs and mine simultaneously, the pain of being robbed of so much precious time crushing, but then I remember something else.

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