Chapter 26
“Fine,” I murmur, my lips pressing into a tight line. It’s a reluctant surrender to Max’s hopeful gaze, one that might buy his father a moment’s peace. The boy’s energy is electric, his tiny feet barely touching the floor as he hops toward the door, a whirlwind of youthful exuberance and I rise giving in to the child.
“Thank you, I know he can sometimes be a handful.” King Soren’s words carry a weight, an acknowledgment that seems to see right through me.
I shake my head, brushing off his gratitude with a flicker of a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “I find him sweet, he’s a breath of fresh air,” I tell him, and it’s true. Max reminds me of the innocence I once had before life got its hands on me.
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~King Soren~
Throughout the entire drive to Brielle’s house, I can’t stop thinking about my son’s bizarre behavior and how taken he is with her. I find myself questioning her about her grandma, her time in town, and her plans for the future. The road is ribbon- like in the darkness, and the only sound is the soft purr of the car’s engine.
“So, your grandma is sick?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Yes, she’s been unwell for some time now,” Brielle replies, her voice heavy with concern.
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I nod, studying her profile in the dim light. She looks tired, lines etched into her forehead and shadows under her eyes. I wonder how much of it is due to her grandmother’s illness.
“How long have you been in town?”
“Not long, Your Highness.”
“And do you intend to stay here for a while?”
Brielle hesitates before answering, “Yes, for as long as I am needed.”
Her answer leaves me with a sense of unease, as if she knows something I don’t.
“What did you do before moving here?”
“I…uh…worked at various places, mostly in the service industry.”
“Are you originally from the Lycan community?”
Brielle hesitates before answering, “Not exactly. I’ve lived in different places.”
I notice her discomfort and decide to change the subject. “How did you find our town? Are the people friendly?”
She smiles, “Yes, everyone has been very welcoming.”
“That’s good to hear. And what about your work at the café? Do you enjoy it?”
Brielle nods enthusiastically, “I love it! The people are great, and I enjoy making coffee.”
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As our conversation continues, I can’t help but notice how nervous she gets when I press her for more information about her life before moving here.
As we approach Brielle’s house, I can’t shake off the feeling that she’s hiding something from me. Her vague answers about her past make me wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye. But for now, I decide to let it go and focus on getting to know her.
As we pull up to her house, I’m taken aback by its dilapidated state. The peeling paint, broken window panes, and sagging porch speak volumes about the hardships the grandmother must have faced over the years. “You live here?” I couldn’t help but ask, my eyes scanning the crumbling building with a mix of confusion and curiosity.
Before she can answer, I spot an elderly woman on the porch, her skin as wrinkled as the house itself, her eyes gazing vacantly into the distance. Her thin frame suggests that she has endured many struggles throughout her life. Max suddenly announces that he needs to use the bathroom.
“You can use our bathroom,” Brielle offers, quickly hopping out of the car. Before I can say anything, Max is already out of the car and running towards the house, his energetic stride in stark contrast to the somber atmosphere surrounding us.
I reluctantly follow, taking in the sight of the house and the frail old woman who struggles to stand as we approach.
“No, you’re fine,” Brielle reassures her grandma.
“Nonsense, my king, I was getting up anyway,” the old woman insists, trying to rise from her chair. Brielle rushes to her side and attempts to help her up.
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“Grandma, your skin is like ice! How long have you been out here?” she asks, struggling to support the elderly woman. I move quickly and grab her other arm, helping to pull her to her feet.
“Not long, dear. I fell asleep,” her grandma replies. Brielle leads her inside, with Max rushing ahead to open the door for them.
As we step inside, I can’t help but notice the squalor they’re living in. Even Max seems taken aback by the state of the place. “You live here?” he asks, his voice filled with disbelief. Brielle chews her lip and nods. “It’s a dump,” Max blurts out.
“Max!” I scold him, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I‘ m terribly sorry, Brielle. My son appears to have left his manners at home today.”
The old woman chuckles, her voice raspy but filled with warmth. “Well, he isn’t wrong, my king. At least your son isn’t a liar.”
As we all stand there, surrounded by the dilapidated house and the evidence of their struggles, I can’t help but feel a deep sympathy for Brielle and her grandmother, it’s clear they could use some help. I remove my gaze from Brielle and help Max find the bathroom. Waiting for my son in the hall, I peer at the peeling paint on the walls when he opens the door. Yet before I can grab him, he is rushing off searching for Brielle.
“Max!” I growl through gritted teeth, marching after him. He ignores me, rushing to the kitchen, where we find Brielle in the kitchen, hunched over and clutching her stomach. Her hand shakes as she reaches for a glass of water, and I watch her pop some pills, the pain clearly written on her face. I’d
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have him worry about her more, like if she’s sick–sick and feel a twinge of really wanting to help her.
“Are you okay?” Max asks, giving away our presence.
