Page 219 of My Unhinged Alphas
“And he was wrong?”
Andrew is quiet again.
Knox hears it. “Not entirely.”
Andrew doesn’t answer directly. “The collapse of the Order created enemies on every side. Some grievances were deserved. Others were cultivated by the Brotherhood to keep survivors divided.”
Havoc looks from the body to the screen. “That’s a very polished way of saying there are people who want you dead and are willing to use your daughter to do it.”
“Yes.”
The simplicity of it stings more than the rest.
I look down at the blood on my hands again, then back at the laptop. “So that contract was really about you.”
“Partly.”
“Partly,” I repeat. “Lovely. I’m glad I could be useful.”
“Lena—” Vale begins.
“No.” I pull my shoulder away from his hand, not because I’m angry at him, but because if anyone touches me right now, I may come apart in a way I don’t want witnessed. I start to pull my ankles free from their bindings. “He doesn’t get to say my name like he knows me.”
Andrew doesn’t respond.
“Goodbye, Father,” I say. “May I never meet you again.”
“Don’t do this, Helena. It’s a different world out there. People found out you’re my daughter, I don’t know how. But you’ll need my protection to keep you safe.”
“Actually, I don’t,” I say, glancing at Knox, Havoc, and Vale. “I can protect myself. And I choose them over you, in a heartbeat.”
“Why?” Apostle Andrew asks.
“Why?” I say, glancing at the three of them briefly. My heart aches, my eyes filling with tears. There’s so much I want to tellthem. “Because they see me for who I am, they keep choosing me even when I didn’t mean anything for them, they put their life and their principles on the line for me. They gave me everything without asking anything in return. That’s why.”
“Helena—” Apostle begins.
“Don’t fucking say another word. And don’t use that name. I’m Lena.” And with that, I walk out of the room.
Chapter 38
Vale
Lena leavesbefore any of us can stop her.
Not far. Just into the hall, one hand pressed hard to her mouth, the other still streaked with drying blood. But the door shutting behind her feels louder than it should. Final, almost. As if the room has been divided into before and after, and all of us are standing on the wrong side of it.
For a moment, no one speaks.
The Apostle is only a shadow on the laptop screen, but somehow his presence still fills the room more completely than the body cooling on the floor.
Then he says, “You need to reason with her.”
Knox looks at the screen.
The Apostle continues, calm as ever. “She will be angry. She has cause. But anger cannot be allowed to dictate her choices now. She needs my protection.”
“Actually,” Knox says, “she needed a father twenty years ago.”
