Page 136 of Lavender and Honey

For once, my mother doesn’t have a ready reply.

Lucian’s eyes are on me, and there’s a promise in them. He stands firm, hands at his sides, no folding or crossing or tightening, no tension at all except in his voice. He means it. The lines of him are solid and unwavering. It’s impossible not to believe him, impossible not to take comfort in that surety. I lift my eyes to meet his and breathe in deeply, feeling the air change, knowing that my mother sees this too and doesn’t know what to make of it.

My mother's face tightens at Lucian's words, a flicker of calculation crossing her features before settling into practiced disdain.

"Such a... progressive approach," she says, infusing the word with venom. "In the Silvercrest Pack, we understand the importance of proper marking. Structure. Tradition." She looks directly at me now, her gaze sharp enough to cut.

"Lydia," she says, addressing me directly for the first time, her voice honey-sweet in a way that sets my teeth on edge. "You can't possibly be happy here. These people—" she gestures dismissively at the pack around me "—they're not like us. They don't understand what someone of your background needs."

I feel Elias shift beside me, a subtle movement that brings him fractionally closer. His presence is steady, grounding, reminding me that I'm not facing this alone.

“Also, because of your upbringing, you have certain obligations that must be fulfilled." Her voice has shifted to that dangerously reasonable tone I know so well—the one she uses when she's setting a trap. I feel Elias tense beside me, his hand finding mine and squeezing gently.

"The only obligation Lydia has," Lucian says firmly, "is to herself. To her own happiness."

My father steps forward, his expression hardening. "You speak as if you understand our daughter better than we do," he says, his voice carrying that familiar authoritative tone that used to make me shrink. "We raised her. We know what's best for her future."

"And yet," Lucian replies evenly, "she ran from that future. From you."

The words hang in the air, sharp and undeniable. My father's jaw tightens, a muscle jumping at his temple. I've seen that look before—the one that means he's recalculating, adjusting his strategy.

"Children often rebel," my mother interjects smoothly, her gaze sliding from Lucian to me. "It's a phase. One she'll grow out of once she realizes the opportunities she's throwing away… that this is what’s best for her…"

"What's best?" Lucian repeats, his voice dangerously calm. "Or what's most convenient for your alliances?"

My mother's eyes narrow to slits. "How dare you imply—"

"I'm not implying anything," Lucian cuts her off, something I've never seen anyone do successfully before. "I'm stating facts. When she was hiding away after your visit to her store… I came to her when she wasn’t answering her phone.” He paused, narrowing his eyes, a low growl coming from his chest.

“She was terrified and exhausted. Running from you. That tells me everything I need to know about yourparenting." His tone was sharp, almost like a knife. The air between them crackles with tension. My father's jaw tightens, a muscle working in his cheek as he visibly restrains himself from snapping.

My mother's face contorts with fury at Lucian's words. For a moment, the perfectly cultivated mask slips, revealing the raw anger beneath.

"You know nothing about our family," she hisses, taking a step forward. "Nothing about our position or the responsibilities that come with it."

"I know enough," Lucian replies, unmoving. "I know Lydia chose to leave. I know she's been happier here than she ever was with you. We also know the real Lydia, not the one who hid trying to please her parents until she decided she didn’t want to do that anymore."

My mother's laugh is brittle. "The 'real' Lydia? Please. You've known her for what— a few weeks? We've raised her for twenty-three years."

"And yet," Elias says beside me, his voice gentle but firm, "she chose us."

My father places a restraining hand on my mother's arm, his expression calculating as he studies Lucian, then the rest of the pack. His gaze finally settles on me, and I feel a chill despite the warmth of Elias beside me.

"Lydia," he says, his voice deceptively gentle, "come home. Whatever... phase this is, we can work through it. You have certain obligations—”

"The only obligation she has," Finn speaks up cutting off my father, his voice steady and resolute, "is to live her own life."

My mother's laugh is brittle, dismissive. "How quaint. And I suppose you think your little... arrangement here is what's best for her? Living in this—" she gestures vaguely at the pack house "—with no real structure or future? Playing at being independent while you all indulge her whims?" My mother's voice drips with condescension.

I feel something shift inside me— a quiet anger that's been building for years, finally finding its voice. My hands stop trembling, and I step forward, moving to stand beside Lucian rather than behind him.

"They're not indulging me," I say, my voice steadier than I expected. "They're respecting me. There's a difference."

My mother's eyes widen slightly— she's not used to me talking back. "Respect?" she scoffs. "Is that what you think this is? They're using you, Lydia. You're an unmated Omega from a powerful lineage. Don't be naive."

"The only people who have ever tried to use me," I reply, "are you and father."

"You raised me to be a bargaining chip," I say, my voice steadier than I expected. "A way to strengthen alliances with other packs. That's all I've ever been to you— an asset."

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