Page 28 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“You’ve been so brave, baby.”

Fisting handfuls of my borrowed flannel shirt, her gaze trains on me, full of fierce defiance. Sometimes, she looks a little too much like her father. Arianna has his fire and determination, but unlike that monster, hers is borne of innocence.

“We made it,” she says with an excited smile. “I saw the lights down the mountain and found this giant to help. We’re here, Mummy. Home.”

I shush her, but it’s too late.

“Home?” Killian echoes.

He fixes me with a stare, and I nudge Arianna behind me. There’s an air of danger that suffuses his entire frame. I know men like him. They use the threat of violence to bend others to their will.

I’ve spent half of my life living in that state of abject fear. Never again. Inching away from him, most of the people wander off, leaving a small group to approach the porch. I recognise a couple of the men next to the shorter guy that held Arianna.

Everyone wears wary smiles, studying us closely.

A short, elderly woman walks up the wide steps. She must be in her seventies at least, but she’s fit and wiry beneath her floral blouse and skirt. Like everyone else, her skin is a golden bronze, seeming to shine with the gleam of the sunlight above us.

“This lady owns the town,” Arianna whispers shyly. “She said she’ll help us.”

I keep her trapped behind me, a fine quiver racing over my skin. She may be an old lady, but everyone is forming around her with obvious respect and deference. I can recognise power when I see it. She’s in charge of this place.

“Please, I mean you no harm,” she placates, stopping beside Killian. “My name is Lola. You’re safe, and no one will harm you here.”

“You’re Lola?” I ask hopefully.

She watches me closely. “Yes.”

Clutching Arianna’s tiny body even tighter, I need her strength to ground me before I collapse into a relieved puddle. I’ve thought of this moment for so long, and for many of those years it felt like a childish fantasy.

“What’s your name?” she asks gently.

Staring into her kind eyes, framed by deep smile lines and papery wrinkles, I feel no threat. For the first time in so long, I want to throw myself into someone’s arms. No one has ever caught me before.

“This is Arianna.” I try to steady my voice. “My daughter.”

Sneaking out from hiding behind me, Arianna gives her a wave, even though they’ve already been acquainted. Lola beams, and there are tears staining her cheeks. She knows who we are. I can see it in her eyes.

I glance at Killian.“My name isn’t Melody.”

His scowl deepens, burning with mistrust.

“So much for trust,” he deadpans. “Who the hell are you then?”

Twisting the thick, golden wedding band I still wear on my ring finger, I clear my throat. “I’m Willow Sanchez.”

“Sanchez?” Lola notices the ring.

“Formerly Willow Castlemore. I’m your granddaughter.”

CHAPTER 7

WILLOW

HOME - GABRIELLE APLIN

Easing myself onto the butter-soft sofa, I pat the space next to me. Arianna curls up against my side and stares at all the other adults in the room. She’s a smart cookie, but she’s also well trained at knowing when not to speak.

These people might be our real, long-lost family, but in my experience, blood isn’t thicker than water. Not really. Family means nothing to me, not after the hellish mess my father left me in when he died.

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