Imara Diversifies The Beastmen World

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Nine: What We Hold On

Parker's POV

The weight of the basket in my hands barely registered as I moved, collecting lobsters one by one. The sunlight gleamed off their shells, the earthy scent of damp soil and fresh air filling my lungs. It was easy work—repetitive—but my thoughts were elsewhere.

Bai. I should've known my mind would wander to her. It always did.

Even now, moving alongside Imara and her mates, I could still hear Bai's voice in my head, see the way she looked at me the last time we spoke. The regret. The uncertainty. The wall between us.

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to focus. There was no point in thinking about it.

Not when the truth sat heavy in my chest. She cared for me. She hadn't left me behind. And just like she said, I just needed to give her space.

Before, hearing those words from her had hurt in a way I couldn't even describe—like a clean cut slicing straight through my fate with her, leaving me raw and unconnected.

That kind of emptiness... I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I'd heard stories of what it meant to be rootless—how being cut off by their mate broke beastmen. I never truly understood it before.

But now? I can almost empathize.

If being rootless felt worse than this—if it meant existing with that feeling, still caring but unable to do anything, still feeling lost—then what a terrible way to live.

Because once rootless, you can never come back.

But I could see two sides of it now. For cruel males, it was deserved. A fitting fate. A punishment.

But for those who had cruel female mates... it was just unfortunate. The worst fate.

Because we know that such males aren't truly without feeling.

Such emptiness—I see why it drives them mad. Why it twists into bitterness. Because even though the pain was unbearable, here I was—still caring. Still thinking about her needs, her comfort, her favorite things. I knew she'd want eggs, birds, mushrooms—all the things she liked best.

Without even realizing it, my mind still prioritized her.

Maybe that's just who I am.

Maybe I wasn't built to just stop caring, no matter how much it hurt.

I swallowed hard, shifting my grip on the basket, letting my eyes flicker to Imara as she moved ahead, her confidence unwavering.

She was so sure of herself.

Watching her, I couldn't help but reflect on everything that had happened—the conversation with her, Gabriel, and Winston. The things they told me. The things she showed me.

The whispers. The presence of the Beast God.

The undeniable truth that I was part of something bigger now.

It unsettled me, but at the same time... it grounded me.

I wasn't alone. No matter what I went through, I had a family that I could always go to, a family that would always be there for me.

Yes, I had my parents—they loved me, and I loved them. But it was different.

We weren't taught to be close once we built families of our own. Once we left, most of us never came back.

That was just... how things were. Our culture. Our way.

Parents raised you, provided for you, gave you the basics. But at a certain age, you were just expected to figure it out—to live however, to make your own choices, to survive.