Page 40 of Awakening the Beast
When she comes in our direction, she places the mugs in front of me and my father and I keep my eyes fixed on her, noting the way she glances between us. She then goes to retrieve her own before taking a seat next to my dad, her eyes remaining on me, an unreadable expression on her face. I focus back on my father, whose already looking at me, scrutinizing.
I lift my mug slowly, maintaining the intense eye contact. The steam from the cocoa brushes against my top lip as I blow gently to cool it.
“How’s work, Dad?” I ask coldly.
He arches an eyebrow, clearly recognizing my shift in demeanor, and I take a small sip of the cocoa. My focus drifts to my mom, who is cooing at Lumi, the blinding opposite of my looming rage and it makes me want to fucking scream.
“What’s wrong, Wren?” my dad’s tone is more forceful now.
I sit up straighter, meeting his gaze squarely, and let my head tilt slightly as I respond, “I don’t know, Dad; why don’t you tell me?”
My mom’s confusion breaks through as she tries to intervene.
“Wren, what is—”
I turn my glare on her, feeling a surge of fury, unable to hold it any longer. “How the fuck could you both?” I grit out the words through clenched teeth.
Her eyes widen, and my father’s face tightens as he averts his eyes, fully aware that the truth is out. They’re more aware than ever that I know. This isn’t the daughter they know—the polite, respectful one. I have never cursed at them and I’m showing them a side to me they’ve never seen before, a side fuelled by disloyalty and the need for answers. A side that has been built on their lies and deceit.
My hand slams down on the table, the sharp sound echoing in the room and my wide eyes dart between them.
“Arlo? Really?” I hiss.
“Wren, I—" My father starts, but his words fail when I shift my furious gaze toward him, watching as he struggles, trying to find the words or perhaps still calculating just how much I know. He’s always been careful with his words, but not today. Not this time.
“I know everything.”
Their eyes meet, exchanging a brief look. When they both turn back to me, it's my father who speaks first.
“Wren, I can explain,” he says, his tone calmer now, trying to soothe the inferno rising in me.
A scoff escapes my lips. Explain? How could he possibly explain away the betrayal that’s been rotting in my soul?
“How the hell can you give explanation that you left Arlo for dead?” My voice cracks with pain against my will, but I push through. “And let me believe for six fucking months it was all the cop’s fault? Or Savannah’s?”
Tears well in my eyes, the memories of that night flashing through my mind, threatening to suffocate me in the darkness in front of them, but I take a long, steady breath, gathering myself before I face him again.
“There’s nothing you can say to make this right, Dad. Do you understand me? You had to know that because you never wanted me to find out.”
He shifts in his seat, visibly tense, his next words strained. “He couldn’t protect you, sweetheart. And that’s something I cannot tolerate in this world.”
My heart clenches at his stupidity, a fusion of disbelief and sadness swirling inside me. It’s as if he truly believes that justifies what he did. But it doesn’t. It can’t. It never will.
I sniff, my eyes narrowing, and I lean forward, each word sharp and laced with accusation.
“Do you know who couldn't protect me?”
His jaw tightens as soon as the words escape me, the small shift betraying his displeasure beneath his calm exterior, and I nod before continuing.
“You’re holding your parental failures on the one person I love most. You’re Ghost, yet you had no fucking clue this was coming? How the hell does that work?”
He can’t hold my gaze any longer, his eyes shifting to the side, a silent response that I’ve hit a nerve. I turn my focus to my mom, who’s been sitting there like a fucking cold, emotionless statue.
“And you... You’re okay with this, are you? You stood by and let him take the man I love away from me while I
was pregnant with your granddaughter. How could you let that happen? How could you let us all suffer like this?”
I stare at her harder, willing her to react, to show something. Anything. But she doesn’t.
