Page 36 of Lycan Prey
I trace the delicate contours of the crumpled envelopes, their creases marking the passage of time and the pain Granny must have felt. Every one of them unopened. Never read. Returned like a slap on the face.
I’ve known about the estrangement between Granny and my mother for as long as I can remember, since we lost Brielle.
A knot tightens in my throat as I gently unfold the top-most letter. An ache fills my heart as I read the words from Granny meant for my mother, filled with hope and heartache in equal measures. It’s like opening a window into a past—one that hurts to explore and still haunts me.
Reading these letters…it’s all too real. Each attempted reconciliation, every plea for understanding, it twists at my heartstrings until I can hardly breathe.
My heart aches with sorrow and then suddenly, outrage. It’s like a dormant volcano that had been denied its rightful release. Mother had abandoned her, blamed her.
And while she’d been doing that, she’d also been reaching out to a daughter who didn’t want anything to do with her.
Resting my head in my hands, I let out a choked sob. The tears come hard and fast, just like they did when Rhett betrayed me.
Suddenly there’s a knock at the door, a forceful rap that startles me. I stare at the door for a second wondering who it would be before I stand up hastily, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand as I move toward the door. My heart jumps into my throat when I see it’s King Soren, his hair tousled and cheeks flushed from the cold wind outside, his eyes filled with concern.
“I’m sorry…” He begins. He takes in my tear streaked face and my grandmother’s belongings scattered all over the floor. “Bree,” he says again, this time his voice soft yet firm, as he peers behind me.
His presence here is both comforting and confusing. A Lycan King, standing outside Granny’s little house in this tiny town. I stare at him before glancing around for Max and his guards, but he is alone.
“Mind if I come in?” he asks politely, his voice surprisingly gentle.
Something inside my chest flutters but I quickly squash it down; that’s not love, but more rather a desperation for connection, anything other than the pain induced by losing Granny.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“How are you holding up?”
I force a weak smile, “Just trying to sort through Granny’s things. Why are you here?”
“Max has been upset, you haven’t been at work. I asked Marianne and she said you haven’t come in. I thought you might have fled. So I wanted to check on you.”
Is he going to tell me to leave since I didn’t register with the council?
Soren steps in, glancing around the room. “What are you looking for?” he inquires, noticing the clutter.
“Anything valuable to help with the funeral costs,” I admit, feeling a lump form in my throat.
He frowns, and I return to the boxes I just dragged in. “Where is Max?”
“With Damian,” he tells me, wandering over to grab a box I was about to pick up. I nod before thanking him when he sits the box down for me.
“No guards today?” I ask him.
His lips tug up in the corners. “Max isn’t the only one who tries to escape my guards,” he says with a soft laugh. I nod, resuming my spot on the floor and opening the next box.
“What about family?” he asks curiously. I laugh and shake my head.
“No, like me, Grandma was cast out,” I tell him before realizing what I said. Only grandma was cast out by her daughter. I was cast out by my parents, then my mate, and soon to be the King. I freeze at my word vomit.
The King watches me for a second. “Is that why you never registered with the council?” he asks, and I chew my lip. He sighs, dropping onto the floor next to me.
“I’m not here to tell you to leave, but some answers would be nice,” he tells me. But I can’t give him answers, not unless I want Rhett finding me. And what if the King believes Rhett’s lies and believes I stole from him? What would happen? Would he lock me up and throw away the key?
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
I stare at him and he looks so out of place here among the mess and in this tiny dilapidated place. He still manages to look graceful.
“I’ll leave the moment I sort out grandma’s cremation,” I tell him, knowing that is coming next.
