12. Mother–daughter bonding

"The Alpha himself set up the duel between them? Thor didn't request it!?" I ask Mom again, surprised.

We're in the living room, where she's telling me everything she knows about Daddy and the Alpha's murder or kidnapping case.

"Yes. Four months ago, after the last rogue attack, he called an emergency executive meeting to inform us that he was no longer fit to rule. The winner between his two sons would become Silver Moon's new Alpha."

"Then it doesn't make sense."

She frowns.

"What doesn't make sense?"

"The Luna's suspicion doesn't make sense. Thor has no reason to harm Daddy and the Alpha."

She chuckles, looking at me in disbelief.

"Did you hear the part where I said their bullet-ridden car was found on his land?"

"By whom? The Council police? I thought the case hadn't even been reported yet."

"Not the Council police. The Gamma Chief and your colleagues. They took photos and–"

My laughter cuts her short.

"How did they gain access to his land, a private property, when they're not law enforcement officers with a warrant? Don't tell me that after shooting down the Alpha's car, he willingly opened his gate and invited them in so they could collect evidence to prosecute him with?"

"Don't be sarcastic with me!" she snaps.

I sigh.

"Mom, this whole theory sounds ridiculous."

"Exactly whose side are you on?!" she snaps again.

"Side?!" I say, chuckling in disbelief. "It's logic, Mom! Do you know who this person is? His status in society and his achievements? Apart from the fact that he's the infamous Viking Alpha, he's one of the–"

"Wow!" She chuckles. "You speak as if you adore him."

"What?!"

I feel my face heat up. Of course, he's

good looking but that doesn't mean I adore him!

She scoffs. "So I'm right."

"Right?! Right about what?"

"You're blushing." This is ridiculous. "I'm not blushing! I don't blush!"

"Your face is as white as a sheet. That's how you blush. I know you. You're my daughter. Tell me, do you have a crush on him? Is that why you're supporting him?"

As she goes on and on, I close my eyes and lean into my chair, willing myself to calm down.

‘Calm down. Please don't argue with her. Remember, you promised to be a good daughter. She just lost her mate and isn't in the right frame of mind. You only have each other now, so don't get angry.’

"Mom..." I call softly, but she keeps talking.

Fuck it.

"Mom!" I shout this time to get her attention. "Listen to me, please!" I quickly add in a softer tone. "I have never met this person in my life. He's a stranger, for crying out loud. I'm not supporting him. I'm just reasoning this through with you. All I'm saying is, I don't believe he would make such a silly mistake as worldly as he is.

Think about it. If the old Alpha arranged the duel between them, knowing Justin is no match for Thor, doesn't that mean the old Alpha wanted Thor to become Alpha? And knowing Daddy, who do you think he would support? Thor or useless Justin? Why kill his supporters then? It doesn't make sense!"

"But they were attacked on his land!" she says frustratingly. "He returned to Los Angeles two days ago, and they were attacked on their way from visiting him. On his land!" She stresses the last words emphatically.

"And contrary to what you think, he has a reason for killing his father. Your daddy was just unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Thor decided to kill two birds with one stone.

The bastard didn't know your dad would never support Justin to be Alpha! He–he killed him for nothing! My poor baby died for what he knows nothing about!"

She breaks down again.

"It's not fair! So not fair!"

I quickly stand and go to her. My eyes begin to mist, but I push back the urge to cry so I can console her.

"It's okay... Come on, Mom. Please stop crying. You promised you wouldn't cry again, remember? You promised you would be strong."

"But it's so hard!" she cries. "You have no idea how hard being strong is sometimes!"

Indeed, I have no idea what it feels like to lose a mate. And now I realize that telling her to be strong is selfish.

The fact that I'm her daughter doesn't put me in a position to ask her to stop feeling.

I pull the coffee table closer to where she's sitting and sit on it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I say then reach reach for one of her tightly balled fists and gently pat her hand, comforting her until she's spent.

I see a box of tissues on the center table and pull some out for her to wipe her eyes.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

She nods.

"I'm sorry about the waterworks. I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay," I say softly. "It's insensitive of me to ask you to be strong. I... Please know that I'm here for you no matter what. And I love you."

She suddenly leans forward and hugs me.

"Oh, I love you too, baby. I'm sorry about what I said before. I didn't mean it. I was just frustrated and..."

"I understand. I'm also sorry for–"

My stomach suddenly growls loudly, cutting me off.

She pulls back and looks at me with wide eyes.

"Victoria, when was the last time you had a meal?!" she asks sternly.

"Oh... um..."

I honestly can't remember the last time I had a proper meal. Just booze and finger foods at the party, which I later emptied into the toilet bowl when I heard about Daddy. Since I can't tell her that, I simply shrug.

She sighs heavily.

"I keep saying this. You're too careless about your health!" She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen.

"There are leftovers in the fridge. It certainly won't last us until next week, but it'll at least fill your tummy for today. God! What was I thinking, dismissing Gino along with the rest?"

"It's okay. Don't worry about that. I can cook."

She stops mid-stride and looks at me in surprise.

"You can?!"

Her expression makes me laugh.

"Yes! Remember the poise-and-manners camp for young ladies you made me attend? Cooking is, fortunately, one of the skills they taught. Now I'm glad you made me learn all of it."

She nods and smiles.

This smile looks genuine, and I'm glad to see it on her face.

"Come on, then. I'll help you. Just tell me what to do, and I'll do my best."

"Okay."

I nod with a smile.

She intertwines her fingers with mine, and we continue into the kitchen.

My mom and I, together alone in one space, most times ended in an argument and one of us eventually storming off. This time, I'll watch my words and attitude. I'll also do my best to indulge her sharp tongue. So help me, God. After all, we've only got each other now. We will make this work.

Thank God the fridge and pantry are filled to the brim with different kinds of food. I love sugar, and so does Mom. We both love pancakes, so I decide on that. Sweet, fluffy pancakes topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream and fresh strawberries–or a generous drizzle of maple syrup.

"What are you making?" she asks as I gather the ingredients.

"Pancakes?" I say questioningly.

She nods her approval.

"What can I do to help?" she asks again.

"Your company is enough. Right now, just watch your daughter in action."

"Okay."

She smiles and pats me on the back.

Although I'm cooking for just the two of us, I'm a little nervous. This is the first time I'll be putting my cooking skills to the test after learning and practicing at camp. I must confess, I'm anxious to see how it'll turn out.

The look in Mom's eyes when she sees my first perfectly circular pancake makes me realize how badly I want her approval this time.

"Taste it," I say eagerly.

"Okay."

She smiles, picks it up, tears off a piece, and puts it in her mouth.

Her eyes light up.

"Oh, wow, Victoria!" She grabs the maple syrup from the counter and drizzles some over the remaining piece before stuffing it into her mouth.

"This. Is. De-licious!" She says it with her mouth full. "How am I just finding out my daughter can cook so well? Mmmm..."

I nod, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. I don't know whether to whoop with joy or break down and cry.

The last time I heard Mom approve of something I did was when I was ten years old and announced that I wanted to be a beauty queen.

Back then, she was happy and provided all the resources I needed. Despite being passionate about looking beautiful and watching beauty pageants and runway shows since I was a little girl, it wasn't long after my announcement that I began finding modelling and beauty pageants less gratifying.

There was this hollowness and deep yearning inside me that aesthetics couldn't fill. I finally got confirmation when I witnessed my mother and her warriors in action during a rogue attack.

The moment the alarm sounded, she sprang into action, hurried people to safety, then swiftly shifted into her wolf and tore into the rogues. That was when I realized it. This is it. This is what I want to do. I want to protect lives too.

Before her, her late father was Silver Moon Pack's Zeta, and so was his father before him. Unfortunately, they both died protecting the pack. Neither of them lived to what is considered a werewolf's ripe old age.

I know that wasn't the life Mom wanted for me. I'm an only child. She wanted me to finish high school, go to college, find my mate, have a dozen pups, and live a boring life in his shadow.

Well, she didn't exactly spell it out like that. She danced around it, and I got the idea. That was the life she wanted before her father shoved his choice down her throat. The same thing she tried doing to me. And I rejected it. That was the beginning of the problems between us.

Daddy always wished we got along. He would have been happy to see us bonding this way. My eyes begin to mist, and I immediately turn away, pretending to search for something inside a cabinet.

Now, don't start crying, Victoria.

You're doing great.

Don't start crying.

–––

Breakfast is great. My pancakes are indeed delicious. Now, as we both try to figure out how to operate the dishwasher, I think about what Mom said earlier. About Thor's reason for killing Daddy. I know asking her might put an abrupt end to the pleasant atmosphere between us, but I have no choice. I have to know. Although Thor is a very powerful man, I'll do my best to make his life miserable if he's truly guilty of killing Daddy.

"Mom."

I call softly, and she looks up.

"Yes, dear?"

"Umm... You said earlier that Thor has a reason for killing them. Mind telling me what his reasons are?"

I want to kick myself when the smile on her face gradually disappears.

She lowers her gaze and nods.

"Yes... Back when I was still part of Evelyn's stupid Executive Women's Club, she told us how he–I mean, Thor–was sent away from the pack after his mother's death. Thor and Eric, the old Beta's son..."

"Wait!" I stare at her. "The old Alpha sent him away from the pack?! When we were having the mating discussion, you told me his mother died when he was thirteen. Are you saying the Alpha sent his thirteen-year-old son out to fend for himself?!"

I can't believe it. The old Alpha, whom I knew to be a good man, was cruel to his own son?

"Yes. After his mother died alongside the old Beta and his mate, the boy returned to the pack to live with his father. "But according to Evelyn, the old Alpha refused him entrance into Alpha's Mansion despite her begging and pleading. He sent both boys to live like barbarians with Thor's uncle in Denmark.

He didn't want anything to do with them. The poor boy had just lost his mother, yet he sent him away! How could he be so cruel as to do that to his own son? He knew his mother's family was primitive! Savages! Yet he allowed his son to live with them!"

I sigh regretfully when her eyes well up with tears.

"I bet that boy wouldn't have turned out to be this cold-blooded killer if he had raised his son himself..." Her voice breaks. "And my Owen, your father, would still be alive, not dead in some shallow grave..."

"Oh, Mom!"

I close the gap between us and pull her into my arms. "It's okay." I try to comfort her, but the thought of Daddy lying in some shallow grave makes something inside me shatter too. I can't hold myself together anymore.

I cry with my mother. And as I hold her, I make a silent vow.

If Thor Quinn is truly guilty of murdering my father, he will pay for his crimes. I swear it on everything I hold dear. He will pay–even if it's the last thing I do on this earth.