She had lived a life that wasn't her own. Every decision was made for her. At the end of the day though, she was still the one with the blood on her hands. To have the weight of abuse on your back is miserable. Especially when you're falling in love...
A/n: I have decided that I will write book four (the next sequel) and book five (the prequel) alongside each other. Book five will be the last book of its kind in this series. Writing this series has given me more than you can imagine but, I'm ready to move on to other projects. Book six will be the final book in this series. It will be like none of the others. This series will most likely be finished before the start of 2022. It's been quite the go. Now onto your regularly scheduled programming. ......
I look on at the newly reunited mates in horror. I do not recognize this woman. I do not know who she is and I'm not sure I ever did. She bows to a man to be overtaken by his shame to move. The tyrant and his mate stay locked in a stalemate.
When I can no longer bear to watch the terrible scene I move quietly towards the stairs. Alpha Will, breaking from his revulsion, follows after me. We tread down the stairs in silence.
It is him to break the quiet, "I used to treat Hope the same way he used to treat her". I know he wants no answer and I give him none.
"She is gone", he says, "she is never coming back and I have to learn to deal with it". His face is blank as I'm sure mine is. He turns to walk away and I do not stop him.
The walk to my home goes by without my noticing. I am wholly overcome with the great terrible I just bared witness. I do not feel the cool brass warm under my hands as I turn the knob. I do not feel the pillows give under me as I sit. I do not see my mother waiting for me.
"Is it true", she asks.
"Is what true".
"That the Alpha of Monsters is in this pack", her voice is shrill to my ears.
"I suppose so".
Angry tears stream down her face, "no, I will not have it".
"Oh".
She is seething as she says, "I will not have the man who took my mate away from me on this land".
I feel my eyes fixate on a crack in a floorboard. I do not see the floorboard. My mind turns to static. I am aware of nothing, not even myself.
Eventually, I do become aware of the churning in my stomach. I run to the bathroom to heave only bile. When I am done I rinse my mouth. I watch myself in the mirror cupping water in my hands to bring to my lips.
I am still wearing my bandages. I decide I no longer need them. I watch myself remove them. It is as though seeing myself for the first time and, I look like shit. My hair falls to an uneven bob at my chin. I am scarred by my own hands and that of others. My arm reads 'sinner' in raised pink lines.
For the first time, I am me. I am whole and I am empty. I am me but, who am I?
My mother is gone from my home. She left nothing of her presence except the truth she gave me. Perhaps she was an apparition.
It's the dead of night, and I walk to the trenches. A canopy of stars hangs over the field. The grass is still soft under my feet and perfumed with flowers. It is beautiful.
The land is scarred and deformed. This space will never be entirely free of its trauma. This was a place hidden from myself and the pack. It is ugly.
The trenches are as I last saw them, but now I see what I didn't before. This is a place that will be what it is. I have seen this place and I have haunted it in my most trying hours. This can never not exist. I am the trenches.
I sink to the ground. The air is sweet and wet. I dig my fingers into the dirt. Roots of grass and flowers push back against me before breaking away. The earth is damp with the morning dew making it cool to the touch.
I am the field and the field is me. To question what we could have been is pointless. There is only what comes next.
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