Page 74 of Wrath

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” I say, sitting up and facing him, because when I deliver this news, I need to see his reaction. Having a child is something I never thought I’d do. It wasn’t in the cards. But now it’s happened, I can’t help feeling a little hopeful. “I’m pregnant.”

A range of emotions passes over his face, anger settling as he sits too. “To that monster?” he snaps. “I thought you said?—”

I smile, placing a hand on his. “No, Ares. The baby is yours.”

His expression softens. “My baby?”

I nod. “I guess you might have others out there,” I mutter, knowing there are children from the forefathers’ daughters who may have a child from Ares.

“It’s good news, right?” he asks, trying to judge my reaction.

I nod, smiling, and he sighs in relief. “I didn’t expect it, but I think I’m happy.”

He pulls me to him again, lying back. “I love you, Wynter. We’ll make this work.”

“There’s so much to consider,” I say. “And you need to find your mother.”

“I have some news about that.”

I brace myself, waiting for bad news, but he kisses me on the head. “The police have a report, filed twenty-eight yearsago, about a missing boy called Ares Torez. They’re going to make contact with my mother, providing she’s still got the same contact details.

I gasp. “Oh my god, that’s amazing, Ares. You must be so happy?”

He nods. “I am. I have a name, a full identity, and when they told me, it felt right. It was like I knew the name, but I’d just forgotten.”

I can’t hide my happiness as tears fall from my eyes and drip onto his shirt. “I’m so happy for you. I can’t imagine what you’ve both been through.”

Ares

I straighten my shirt for the hundredth time, and Wynter laughs, tapping my hand away and slipping hers into it. I smirk, admiring her beauty as her beaming smile lights her face. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this nervous and happy all at once.

Anita knocks on the door, and I hold my breath. The second it opens, I’m hit with a million memories, all of her. My mother. Esmae Torez. She gasps, her hands covering her mouth as tears stream down her face. She reaches for me, and Wynter releases my hand so I can wrap my mother in my arms. She’s a small woman, so I have to crouch slightly, but the second we touch, I close my eyes and relax.I’m home.

She eventually takes us inside, keeping a tight hold on my hand. I have to duck down to go through the doors in her bungalow, but as I move into the living room, I’m met with photographs of a little boy with blue eyes. I go to them, studying each one, trying to remember them. Esmae joins me, pointing to one. “Blackpool Beach,” she tells me, smiling fondly. “Our first house in London,” she says, pointing to another of me in agarden. “You were so happy we had a garden,” she adds. “This was an outdoor swimming pool just up the road. It’s closed now, but you loved going there.”

Wynter wipes her eyes, sniffling quietly as she takes in the pictures of my lost childhood. “This is Wynter,” I almost whisper. The urge to clamp my mouth closed again is overwhelming, but I refuse to give in to it.

Esmae hugs her. “You saved him,” she whispers, kissing her cheek. “I don’t know what to say.”

“We saved each other,” Wynter replies.

Anita lingers in the doorway. “Would you like me to leave you for an hour or two?” she asks, but honestly, Anita has been on this journey as much as we have. She’s helped us every step of the way, and having her here feels right, so I shake my head. “Stay.”

She smiles with relief and takes a seat. “I’m Anita, Ares and Wynter’s social worker.”

Esmae sits too, and I sit with Wynter on the couch. “I never thought this day would come,” she admits. “I never stopped thinking about you.” She takes a box from the side of her chair and places it on the table. “I kept everything. The police reports, the failed sightings that gave me false hope . . .”

I pull it closer and peer inside, taking out the first thing on top, which is a newspaper article. I scan it, my eyes settling on a picture of my mother holding up a photograph of me. “It was a circus,” she mutters. “They had people calling the helpline who said they’d seen you walking off with a group of kids, others saying you were in different countries. And the nutters,” she shakes her head, “they came out in full force. Some even said they’d spoken to your spirit and you were at peace.” She pats a tear away on her cheek. “They were the hardest to deal with.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that,” says Wynter.

“I saw it all on the news,” she adds, nodding at the television in the corner. “They’re saying it was a cult.” I shudder, not wanting to taint my mother’s house with talk ofthem.

“Did your family liaison officer explain things?” asks Anita.

Esmae nods. “She left out the details, but said you’d both been held in a village.”

“What matters is now,” says Wynter, knowing I’ve been worried about revealing any details to my mother. I don’t want to break her heart further, and if she knew the things I’d done . . .

---