Page 94 of Alpha's Revenge Luna
I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand.“A vampire?Here?”The words tumble out in disbelief.
Dion nods grimly as we get into the car.He starts the engine, the car rumbling to life.We drive in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.I can’t help but feel a sense of foreboding, knowing a vampire is on the loose.The threat seems so much more real and immediate now.
We head back to the packhouse.Dion’s determined to warn everyone and plan our next steps, while my thoughts go to Grandma and if she is safe out there in the middle of the woods by herself.
“What are you thinking?”Dion asks me, snapping my gaze away from the window.
I shrug, unsure myself.
“Something has upset you.I can feel your fear through the bond,” he tells me.“Are you scared of going back to the pack?”
I shake my head because I am not more afraid than normal.
He watches me for a second, searching my face for any deceit.“Maybe you’re not afraid of anything physical, perhaps you’re afraid of your own misplaced trust?”he suggests and I swallow.Kyrio glances at us in the mirror and I turn my gaze away.
“I just can’t fathom my father killing her.It’s hard to know the person you grew up loving and believing loved us in return could do such a thing,” I tell him and he nods.
“Not all parents deserve to be parents.I’m also not saying he didn’t love Trinity, but sometimes betrayal outweighs love and reason.But can you ever truly know somebody?”he asks me, and I furrow my brows..
“Everybody’s mind works differently,” he says.“Everyone’s thought patterns are different—driven by different things.Places, people, and situations.Everyone reacts differently, sometimes differently to how we believe they should.”
Yet, there is an edge in his tone I don’t quite understand.I sense he is referring to me in some way.
“Why does that sound like an accusation?”I ask him and he purses his lips.
Dion’s gaze is intense, reflective as he tries to articulate his thoughts, giving voice to the complex emotions and insights swirling within him.His voice lowers, a note of frustration seeping through.
There’s a brief silence as if he is contemplating his next words.“But I am also trying to remind myself, you were their child, and a child’s view of their parents is inherently different from the rest of the world’s.To a child, parents are the first teachers, the first protectors.They shape the world you grow up in.It’s normal to see them through a lens tinted with affection and trust, even if that view doesn’t align with reality.”
“So I’m wrong for loving them?”I ask him, but he shakes his head.
“Not wrong, misguided.”
“Like Trinity was,” I murmur.
“It’s hard to question what we’ve always known, especially when it comes from those who raised us.Children wear rose-colored glasses, not by choice, but by necessity.It’s a part of growing up, trusting what we’re given without question.But that trust can mask truths that are harder to accept.”
I nod, understanding his logic, but now that makes me curious why he would be so cruel.“But you didn’t have a problem telling me they were monsters or hating me for hating you,” I remind him.
He chuckles then nods before turning slightly, so he is kinda facing me.“I couldn’t understand how you didn’t see your parents for what they truly were.It baffled me that you never questioned their actions, their nature.From where I stood, their notoriety was evident.To me, you siding with them was inconceivable, and it angered me.”
His words are firm, but I sense the guilt coursing through him, it’s evident on his face and the way his hand moves to grip mine as if reminding himself I am not my parents.
“But I’m beginning to realize my perception of you was tainted.I saw you through the lens of your parents, their actions, not as the individual you are.That wasn’t fair to you.”
I peer up at him, my voice barely above a whisper.“And who am I?”I ask, seeking clarity in his newfound understanding.
He meets my gaze steadily, a softness touching his eyes.“You’re my mate,” he says simply, yet with a profound sense of realization.“You’re not the shadow of your parents; you’re your own person, and I’m only just beginning to truly see that.”
“You see that, but your pack sees me as a murderer.”
Dion’s expression softens, a hint of regret lining his features.“You’re right; they see you as a murderer,” he acknowledges, his voice tinged with remorse.“And I’ve played a part in fueling that perception.But just as your understanding ofyour parents was flawed, so is their view of you.”
He pauses, choosing his words carefully.“Their perspective is clouded.They see your actions as a catalyst for the tragedy, and to some extent, that’s true.But they overlook the fact that you weren’t the one who actually caused their deaths.We all make poor choices, Emery, and sometimes, we desperately seek someone to blame.You, being an outsider, and the pack being bonded through shared trauma, it’s easier for them to point fingers at you.”
Dion’s gaze intensifies, a plea for understanding in his eyes.“I know it’s easy to resent them for how they’ve treated you.But try to see it from their perspective, while I work on helping them see it from mine.They’re acting out of pain and fear, not malice.It’s not justification for their actions, but they hurt just as you do,” he tells me.
“That’s the thing, I see it from their perception.I blame myself for your peoples’ death, Dion.I never expected people to die.I expected my grandmother to warn everyone, so they could run,” I admit.
