ALARIC’S POV
My wife wasn't speaking to me. She had spent the night in another room, leaving me on the bed, which had now become huge and cold.
Somehow, I had forgotten this stubborn part of her—the adamant side.
“You have to bring her back.” She wouldn't stop hammering, but I couldn't.
As much as I wanted to brace up and take everything like a grown-up, I was human, and blood flowed through my veins. The ache was raw, and it stung like a sour tomato.
There wasn't a rule that stated children had to forgive their parents, especially when they made their childhood a nightmare and suddenly decided to be happy.
Was that it?
What got me riled up was that she couldn't wait to start a new life. A life she stole from Alaric. He wouldn't have been in the car without helping me run away from our mother. If she had stopped hitting me now and then, she would have made him sad.
My head throbbed as I pushed myself out of bed. I had barely slept a wink all night, and half of it was spent walking
