Page 150 of Bonds of Pain
“Thank you,” I whisper, meaning it despite everything. Despite the cruel comments, despite the intimidation, despite standing by while Logan claimed me.
Ares reaches toward me, his hand extended as if to touch my cheek. The gesture is startlingly gentle from someone I’ve only known to be brutal. At the last moment, he drops it, stepping back instead, reclaiming his role as Logan’s protector. “Our safehouse location is programmed into the navigation system. If... if you need us. Or if you change your mind.”
He turns away, returning to Logan’s side without another word, supporting the wounded Alpha as blood continues to seep through his uniform.
I slip into the car, the leather seat cool against my skin. I close the door behind me with a final, decisive click that feels like the period at the end of a chapter I never wanted to write.
Through the tinted window, I watch as the men who have dominated my life for months grow smaller in the distance—four broken figures standing in a pool of light, bound together by violence and loyalty and a twisted version of love that I have to leave behind me before it’s too late.
Iidle in the car for over an hour, watching the elegant townhouse across the street. It’s far nicer than anything I lived in growing up—three stories of pale stone with flower boxes hanging beneath each window, a small but perfectly manicured lawn. This middle-class neighborhood screams of aspiration rather than true wealth, which fits my mother perfectly.
When the Alpha Guardian finally emerges, his pressed uniform reflecting sunlight as he strides purposefully to his vehicle, I slouch down in my seat. My pulse quickens. This is my chance.
I count to one hundred after his car disappears around the corner, then pull my hood lower over my hair.
Slipping across the street with my head down to avoid any public surveillance cameras, I keep my pace brisk but not suspicious.
The front door isn’t locked, a privilege of this sort of neighborhood. I step inside, immediately struck by the luxury compared to our old apartment. Plush carpeting, tasteful artwork, furniture that doesn’t bear the marks of secondhand shops. She’s done well for herself, bargaining with her daughter’s life.
The sound of humming drifts from deeper in the house.
I find her in a sunlit kitchen, flipping through fashion magazines at a marble-topped island. Her perfectly manicured nails tap against glossy pages as she sips from a delicate teacup. She hasn’t noticed me yet, this woman who shared her womb but never her heart.
“Hello, mother.”
Charlotte screams, the magazine flying from her hands like a startled bird. Pages flutter to the floor between us, one landing open to display a photo of Logan and me at the spring palace. My face stares back at me—smiling falsely beside the Alpha who claimed me against my will.
“Maya, what are you doing here?” she gasps, hand at her throat.
“I have questions about my birth,” I say, staring at the woman who raised me yet feels like a stranger. My voice is flat, but the storm inside me rages.
Charlotte regains her composure quickly, smoothing her silk blouse with practiced hands. “What is there to know? You were born at Central Hospital on a Tuesday morning. You cried so loudly the nurses complained.” Her laugh sounds rehearsed, hollow. “Luckily, you outgrew that newborn, alien phase fairly quickly.”
“You were older than average when you had me,” I press, watching her face carefully. “Thirty-nine, right? I did the math recently.” I take a step closer, noting how she subtly leans away. “In fact, I’m surprised you were able to conceive at all without help.”
Her face crumbles like wet paper, the carefully constructed mask of societal ambition falling away to reveal something raw beneath. Fear. Guilt. Her lips tremble as she whispers. “The clinic promised me that you would never find out the truth.”
I’m surprised by how little I feel at the confirmation. “What truth?”
Charlotte’s eyes dart to the door as if contemplating escape, but she seems to realize there’s nowhere to run. She sinks onto a kitchen stool, suddenly looking every one of her years.
“I was told I was infertile when I was barely older than you are now,” she admits, her voice barely audible. “But thecrown was funding fertility clinics, experimental treatments.” Her fingers twist together nervously. “They offered me the opportunity to conceive if I agreed to send my child to the Enclave if it was born female and Omega.”
I was sold before I was even born.
“How much did they pay you?”
Charlotte winces, her shoulders hunching inward. “Maya, you don’t understand. I was desperate. I wanted a child more than anything, and?—“
A sharp electronic tone cuts through the air, making us both jump. The house’s comm unit lights up with an urgent alert. A mechanical voice announces: “ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS. THE CITY IS NOW ENTERING EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN. ALL RESIDENTS ARE ORDERED TO REMAIN IN THEIR HOMES UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.”
Charlotte’s eyes widen with fear as she stares at the flashing red light. “What’s going on?” Her gaze snaps to me, suddenly suspicious. “Does this have something to do with you showing up like this?”
I ignore her question, stepping closer until we’re face to face. “Did you ever love me?”
“Of course I did—I do!” she responds automatically, but her eyes don’t quite meet mine.
“Just for me?” I press, my voice barely above a whisper. “Or because of what you could get for me?”
