Cressida POV
Realistically, I understand that marrying into a different pack doesn't mean I won't see my family again. The drive between our packs is a few hours long, composed mostly of dirt roads winding through forests.
But standing in the room that's always been my bedroom. My home. It hits differently—the idea of leaving.
I don't want to go.
Under the anger, frustration, and distress, all that's left is me. A girl who just reached adulthood and isn't ready to leave my life behind for a new pack. A girl who understands human lives more than werewolves because I work with them and have never awakened my wolf. I may as well be a human if not for the inherent strength and better vision in low light.
I'm scared.
That's all there is to it. I'm afraid to leave my family. They've been better to me than most families are to failed werewolves. They could've cast me out at any point, but they chose to love me instead with the fierce love of a true pack. A small pack with an obvious weakness.
A lump forms in my throat, and I try to swallow it down, but the fear and sadness I feel are stronger than my physical ability to push through them. All day, I've been fueled by the rage of injustice and frustration. In the safety of my bedroom—the place that's always been my sanctuary for when the world is too loud or my thoughts are too loud—those initial reactions shift to let the more vulnerable feelings surface.
My legs give out, and I land heavily on the edge of my bed. This room, this home, this family. They've been my world. They've always been my entire world, and now I have to leave without a choice.
Well, without a viable choice.
If I refuse Aaron's order, I have no doubt that the best-case scenario would be exile from the pack. While I could survive among humans and perhaps other inhumans (I could probably even rely on a coworker or two to help me out, if only temporarily), it would mean never seeing my family again, and I know that would be the kind of wound that never heals for all of us.
But his options for punishing me don't end there.
My family isn't strong or weak (myself not included). We're just average as far as werewolves are concerned, which means we're useful but expendable.
He could choose to exile my entire family. And it would be my fault, even if they didn't blame me.
But it would be more difficult to make a living without finding a new pack. Enough time has passed since the Integration, letting the inhumans and humans coexist in a mostly peaceful manner, and our quality of life has gone up exponentially now that we can benefit from human technology without hiding what we are. But humans are wary of full werewolves, particularly because of how the lunar cycle impacts them. The strength of a werewolf and ability to see in the dark and survive in harsh conditions are desirable in multiple fields. Unfortunately, not being able to work around the night of the full moon tends to be less desirable.
I'm still thinking about the possible outcomes of refusing (I wouldn't put it past Aaron to send someone to kill me after exiling me, cold bastard that he is) when I hear two knocks on my door. Solid. Unhurried.
My father.
"Come in," I say. Because I've never turned my dad away, and he's never come to my room without a purpose.
He steps inside and closes the door behind him before he sits next to me on the bed. He rests his forearms on his knees with his hands clasped between them, hunched over in the position of a man feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.
I don't rush him. Nothing good has ever come from rushing my father when he's trying to piece together what he wants to say because when he's in this contemplative position, what he wants to say tends to be too important to risk using the wrong words.
A few minutes pass in a silence that's heavy but not oppressive. I don't know what I expect him to say. There isn't much that hasn't already been said about the situation.
Then, finally, he says, "I'm sorry."
Of everything I thought he might say, that wasn't on the list. The only response my brain can produce is, "What?"
"I said I'm sorry."
"No, I heard that part, Dad," I say. "But I don't understand what you're apologizing for."
He keeps his eyes on his hands rather than looking at me. "I'm sorry that I'm not stronger. That I'm not an alpha."
"That's not something you can control," I say.
He knows that's true. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that he couldn't have changed his inherent strength no matter how much he might wish he could. It's the same as me wanting to awaken my wolf, even though I understand that it's not something that happens this late in a werewolf's life.
But I also understand that today isn't a day for logic.
The smile he gives me says that he disagrees with what I'm saying but appreciates me saying it.
Another moment passes in silence, but this time, I'm the one to break it.
"I plan to ask Luka to agree to divorce me after his pack's leadership situation is resolved. It's not like either of us want the marriage anyway, and we both know that it's just a way to embarrass him."
I don't know if either of those statements is true. I haven't exactly talked to Luka about this, and I don't imagine I'll get the chance to until the wedding, considering we're in different packs and not close enough for a casual meet-up when there's one lunar cycle until our wedding.
However, Luka isn't dumb. He has to know that this marriage is a plot against him, and I can't imagine he'd have any objections to getting divorced when his pack has decided on its new leader.
My dad puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. "You can always come home, Sid. We'll take care of you."
I put my hand over my dad's.
Right now, my future is uncertain and scary. But I have one piece of comfort that makes it bearable.
I can always go home.