Page 183 of An Omega for the Lycan Prince
Seems like they never touched it.
She nods.
We walk by a common room. A few children are playing while their mothers watch them. Once they see us, they scramble to their feet bowing toward me. I shake my head. “Please,” I say, hoping for my voice to sound as reassuring and warm as I mean it. “Please don’t go out of your way to greet me. I’m here to see how all of you are doing.”
I look at some of the kids, noting how they eye me curiously. Some are staying with their mothers, hiding in their arms. I can see bruises on some faces, both children and she-wolves alike, and scars on some of the mothers.
A cute little twin pair stand right in front of me, looking at me through their big eyes. I smile, kneeling before them to be on their eye level. “And who do we have here?” I ask.
“Bunny and Bob,” the little guy exclaims, taking his little sister’s hand.
“They are actually named Hanna and Robert,” their mother says to me with a soft smile.
“Oh, you already have superhero names?” I want to know.
They both beam at me. “Yes! Luna understands us.”
Hanna slips a bit closer, taking my hand. “Do you want to meet my doll?”
“Of course,” I let her tug me to the other side of the room to show me her doll and favorite stuffed animal. Soon, the other kids start running around the room, showing me their prized toys. It suddenly got loud and lively in here. I’m relieved to see that at least some of the kids will probably be able to leave their trauma behind soon.
Some won’t though. These are the ones I’m most worried about.
One of the nurses enters and lures the kids away with the promise of lunch and dessert, and I can finally pay attention to the older victims. Word has gone around that I’m here, so slowly all of them have gathered. There are mostly teens and young she-wolves. Ella and I hand them the baskets we brought along, and I make sure to ask everyone their names and try to imprint their faces and names on my mind.
Amidst the young women, there is only one elderly lady. She has a firm look in her eyes and carries herself with dignity.
“I’m Renata,” she introduces herself. Her arm and shoulder look broken, and there are bruises on her face. “One of those pathetic excuses of warriors tried to get into Marilou’s pants,” she spits out. “They didn’t succeed, though!”
“Thank you for protecting her, Renata,” I look at her sincerely. “I met Marilou today. She told me you are like a mother to her.”
A warm smile curls around Renata’s lips. “More like a grandmother.”
I don’t ask the others what happened to them, not wanting to invade their privacy too much and allow them to set their own pace. Some of them share their stories, though. They have been Marcus’ punching bags. Most of them carry scars and bruises on their bodies and faces. Their wolves will heal them, but the wounds on their souls will take longer to heal.
However, most of them light up when they talk about their children and family. Some of them are unmated. Some carry marks.
“Sometimes when the light went out, his men would walk around…” one of the teen girls explains shakily. “They would take any excuse to punish us. Put us into a dark room and hit us. And sometimes… mored…”
I swallow. I knew it happened but hearing it from them made it more real. I notice that Ella looks sad too.
One woman is particularly quiet. Her hands shake as she drinks her coffee, and she has barely touched any sweets. She can’t be older than eighteen or nineteen.
“That’s Linda,” one of the others introduces her.
“Hello Linda,” I carefully say, not wanting to startle her.
She nods, smiling nervously. Her fingers tremble slightly, and she keeps tugging at the hair tie she wears around her wrist. I note that she has a marked neck. It’s not a fresh mark, though, so I hope she wasn’t marked forcefully. “Is your mate part of Red Claw?” I ask softly.
“I…” her voice breaks off. “Xander. He’s here… and alive, thank goddess. He’s…” Her eyes brim with tears. She looks so lost and pained. I put my cup of coffee aside and carefully reach out my hands. She throws herself into my arms. “But Marcus… he…” she sobs. “Who would even want me this way? So tarnished. What will Xander say? I should have been just his… but…”
“Oh no,” I stroke her hair softly. “You are not tarnished,” I mutter into her hair. “And your mate would never think ill of you.”
My words feel so empty. No one can take her pain away.
I notice another girl’s lip quivering. Brushing my hand over Linda’s back, I look at her. I notice the fading mark on her neck. Either her mate was killed by Marcus or… “One of his men forcefully marked me,” she says, her voice is hoarse, rough almost. “Thank goddess he’s dead now, and the mark will go away.” She rubs over her neck, scratching at it. I notice slight traces on her nails there.
Ella takes her hand, squeezing it softly. I’m speechless. This girl is only sixteen or seventeen. She’s still a kid, yet they committed such a crime against her.
