Some Mate

Omerta’s POV

Breathe, just breathe. One breath at a time. I told myself for the thousandth time.

Breathe, count, and repeat—that was the mantra that I repeated over and over to myself as I absorbed the words that came from Aaron’s mouth, who was supposedly my cousin.

That was what kept me afloat through all the well-guarded secrets and lesser-known facts that came to light one by one as he narrated the story.

To say that I was overwhelmed was a gross understatement. A part of me was numb, while another was a volcano of emotions waiting to explode.

Growing up, I cooked up many stories in my head about who my mother was and why she left. I had imagined a plethora of scenarios, ranging from her being a spy to an ideal daughter.

But never in my wildest dreams, had I expected my mother to be a…..a witch.

Witches. I could not even get myself to say the word aloud.

My human upbringing did not give me a kind vibe about the whole concept, and remembering all the side remarks Lucifer had