Forty Five

My father—Howard Quinn—had murdered his pack.

No wonder he was so cold toward me. No wonder he and my father hated each other with a fury that felt personal, bone-deep, unforgivable.

Had he been looking at me this whole time as the enemy's child?

But I was confused. Why hadn't he just channeled that anger and killed me himself? Why had he saved me at all?

I hadn't known that. I filed it behind everything else happening and kept my face still, even though inside I was shattering all over again.

I had been prepared to beg him. To plead in tears. To throw away every last scrap of dignity I had left if it meant surviving.

But upon hearing that my father had once again committed an unforgivable atrocity—this time against the man who had saved my life—something in me just... stopped.

Maybe this was karma. Maybe I was paying for his crimes.

Maybe I did deserve to die.

And just like that, I gave up.

"Aiden, listen to reason," Nathan said, breaking the silence. "Her pack wants her dead. She's not going back to them."

"You don't know that," Aiden replied coldly.

"Yes, Aiden, you said it yourself—her pack wants her dead. Moreover, I doubt she wants to still go back to her pack despite how hell-bent they are on killing her."

"Nathan, don't be naive." Aiden's voice was sharp. "You and I both know how family works. Blood calls to blood. I won't be shocked if she crawls back the moment it's convenient."

Something snapped inside me.

"NEVER!!!" I shouted at the top of my voice, and the word tore out of me with all the rage and betrayal and broken hope I'd been carrying.

"MY PACK TRIED TO KILL ME!"

Both men turned to look at me.

My chest was heaving. My paralyzed hand throbbed. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

"They hunted me like an animal," I said, and my voice shook with fury. "My own father ordered my death. My sister stole my life. My mate rejected me at the altar in front of everyone I'd ever known."

I forced myself to meet Aiden's eyes.

"So don't you dare stand there and act like I'd go crawling back to them. I'd rather die right here, right now, than ever set foot in that territory again."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Aiden stared at me, his expression unreadable.

Then he spoke, and his question hit me like a freight train—something I had never once asked myself, something that left me completely and utterly speechless.

"Then tell me, April Quinn," he said slowly, his voice dangerously quiet, "if you hate them so much—if they destroyed you so completely—why are you still protecting them?"

I blinked. "What?"

"You heard me." He took a step closer. "You've told me your pack tried to kill you. You've told me your father ordered your death. But you haven't told me why."

His eyes bored into mine.

"What did you do, April? What are you hiding that made Howard Quinn—an Alpha who built an empire—decide his own daughter needed to die?”

After Aiden's question, I opened my mouth instinctively to protect and defend myself but nothing came out. I closed it back after a few seconds because I had no answer.

Because he was right.

I hadn't told them everything. I'd not told them I was framed for attacking May, for stealing from the treasury I'd never explained why so I understood why they didn't believe me. To be honest it was because I didn't understand myself why everyone had turned on me so quickly. Why my father hadn't even call me to question me about it at least instead I instantly became a fugitive and rogue.

What was really going on?

"Oh, this is delicious," Zara purred in my head. "He's smarter than I thought. I approve even more."

"Shut up," I whispered.

Aiden's eyes narrowed. "Talking to your wolf again?"

"She's enjoying this," I said bitterly, frowning. Then, meeting his eyes: "You want the truth? Fine. I don't know."

"You don't know," he repeated flatly.

"I don't know why they turned on me!" The words burst out. "One day I was the heir. The next minute, I was a traitor. I don't know what I supposedly did. I don't know who framed me or why they believed it so easily."

My voice cracked.

"I don't even know if I'm actually innocent. Maybe I did something. Maybe I forgot. Maybe—" I stopped, the thought too terrible to finish.

Maybe I deserved all of it.

Aiden studied me for a long moment.

Then, surprisingly, his expression softened. Just a fraction.

"You really don't know," He said quietly and it wasn't a question.

"No." My voice was barely a whisper. "I don't."