Victor comes to my side as we all listen to the reporter, taking my hand and squeezing it. I smile up at him, knowing that he, too, is relieved to see that they’re telling rather…well, rather a romantic story. This could have had a much more scandalous bent, marking Victor as a man who betrayed his
I lead Emma and Delia out to the front porch as Bridgette goes upstairs for a shower and Victor and Rafe begin to concentrate on their work today. As we settle into our chairs, I’m pleased to see Miss Georgia coming up the path. Good, I think, smiling and waving to her. Now the boys will be distrac
“First it was the life dad wanted,” Emma continues softly, “which I know you understand, Evelyn. And then, after that? It was…Joyce’s life. Joyce’s life, Joyce’s world, Joyce’s choices. I was…nobody. I feel like I completely lost myself, if I ever knew who I was to start with.” My sister hangs her
That night, Victor is quieter in bed than usual. I barely notice at first, exhausted as I am, but then, as I curl up next to him and open my book, I realize that he’s not dozing or looking at his phone but instead is simply staring at the ceiling. “Are you okay?” I ask, closing my book and turning
But now? With my father’s pack and Willards effectively gutted of leadership and already under Victor’s control? With his two sons set to inherit all three? Victor was, already, the most powerful Alpha in the nation. It could make sense for wolves to recognize that supremacy, to gather beneath his
All night long, I can’t sleep. Victor can, and I’m grateful for it – I’m up worrying about everything for the both of us, so I don’t want him to be as well. It’s not necessary for both of us to suffer. I drift in and out of a half-sleep state, the question Victor asked me a few hours ago gnawing at
If I were to design a house, would it even have a pool? I mean, the kids enjoy it, but… And then, slowly, I turn towards the burned wreckage of Victor’s big house. The one that Amelia designed for them to live in, and the one he had built for her, and the one she burned to the ground in revenge for
“A castle, mama?” Alvin asks a few hours later, sitting on the kitchen table and combing through some of the plans I’ve sketched out on scrap paper with crayons I’ve borrowed from my boys. “To live in?” “Well,” I say, leaning back and considering. “Maybe castle isn’t the right word. But palace is t