Page 35 of Lycan Prey
“I’m not just here for Max.” He whispers and I look up at him. “Are you alright?”
The question hangs heavy in the air, charged with an unspoken understanding. He knows the gravity of what’s happened, the loss that’s tearing through my very soul.
Am I alright? The words seem absurd, laughable even if they didn’t feel like shards of glass tearing me apart. How can I be alright when everything has crumbled beneath my feet?
I shake my head, fighting the tide of emotions that threaten to break me. Each breath feels like a battle, each thought, a weight I can’t carry.
“I’m fine,” I lie, the words hollow and brittle as they fall from my lips. “You should get Max home. He’d be due for his dinner.” My voice wavers, betraying my feigned strength.
Soren’s gaze pierces through me, seeing past the façade I’ve erected. His eyes, deep pools of concern, search my face for the truth I try so desperately to hide. “I’m not leaving you like this,” he insists. “Let me drive you home,” he continues, his tone brooking no argument yet laced with an empathy that fractures my resolve.
“I…” I start, but the words tangle, caught between pride and despair. Soren’s steady gaze holds mine, offering silent support. He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand. He simply waits forme to agree. He motions for Max who rushes toward us, Soren instantly scooping him up.
Then Soren’s hand finds mine in the darkness, warm and steady, an anchor in the storm that rages inside my soul. I stumble slightly on the gravel, my legs shaky, my heart a broken compass in a world suddenly devoid of direction. Without a word, he guides me to his sleek black sedan parked under the orange glow of the streetlight.
His touch is gentle but firm before he lets go, buckling Max into his seat. He motions toward the passenger door and opens it for me. I sigh but slide into the vehicle, the leather seats cool against my skin and he climbs into the driver’s seat. The engine purrs to life, a soft vibration that seems to mock the silence between us. I draw in a shuddering breath, my eyes fixed on the passing scenery—a blur of shadows and light that mirrors the turmoil within me.
We pull up to my house, and I realize now everything has changed. As I sit beside Soren, this man who carries the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders yet offers me solace in my darkest hour, I understand that nothing will ever be the same again.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the roar of blood in my ears. “For everything.” I reach for the door handle.
“Maybe stay the night with us?” Soren suggests, his voice gentle yet firm. His gaze drifts over my house, taking in the peeling paint and the neglected garden.
I follow his gaze, seeing the house through his eyes, and the shabbiness claws at me. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow hard against it. Now she is gone, what do I do? I can’t stay here; she was my excuse for being here. I can’t register with the council and now I know I will be asked to leave.
“No, don’t be silly. I’ll be fine,” I whisper, more to myself than to Soren. But his fingers curl around mine, a vise of warmth in the chill air, unwilling to let go.
“King Soren, really—I—” My words falter, breath catching in my throat.
His grip tightens, and it feels like an anchor in a sea of sorrow. “Bree, you don’t have to be alone.”
The insistence in his voice claws at the walls I’ve hastily built around my grief. Alone is all I’ve known, despite the pack, the familiar scents of pine and earth that should signify home. Betrayal lingers in my nostrils, Bianca’s perfume mingled with Rhett’s—a scent that once promised safety now reeks of heartache.
“Being alone… it’s what I’m used to,” I choke out, each word a shard of glass scraping its way up my throat. The loneliness isn’t new; it’s a shadow that’s followed me since Bianca walked into our lives, since I turned my back on my family for the man who sold me.
Soren doesn’t push further. He gives me a nod, a silent acknowledgment of my choice, a testament to his respect for my grief.
“Goodnight King Soren, Max. I’ll see you soon,” I choke out, my voice a tangle of grief and resolve. Max’s big, tear-filled eyes lock onto mine, and I muster a half smile for him, a weak attempt to soften the jagged edge of reality.
The door handle of the car feels cold and foreign under my fingers as I fumble to release myself from the confines of Soren’s vehicle. Slipping out, the chill evening air bites at my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the tears streaming down my cheeks. I shut the door.
Turning my back on them, on everything, I cross the threshold into the silent house. The door closes with a soft click, and I lean against it, allowing myself to slide down to the floor.Here, in the enveloping darkness, I can let go. Here, I can break apart like I’ve felt like doing since I found her.
But for now, I sit in the suffocating stillness, the echoes of my heartbeat the only sign I’m still alive in the wreckage of my shattered world.
Chapter 16
• Aubrey •
A couple of days later
The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room filled with memories of Granny. I’m on the floor, surrounded by papers and old photographs, each item a reminder of the loss that stings and aches like a fresh wound.
Granny always said she wouldn’t leave me with any burdens, but now I’m left with the burden of figuring out how to pay for her cremation. I just found out Granny didn’t have funeral insurance. She never wanted to be a bother, one she could hardly afford, but also always insisting on living simply and said just to toss her to the forest. So in her passing, she left me with a heavy weight on my shoulders.
As I sift through her belongings, I’m desperately trying to find anything of value, anything that might help cover the costs. I come across an old shoebox, worn and yellowed with time. Inside, I find a stack of letters tied together with a faded ribbon. I recognize Granny’s handwriting immediately.
Trembling, I untie the ribbon and my stomach sinks further when I realize they are all letters to my mother that had been returned to sender; unopened. My mother just sent them back.
