Bonus Chapter 11

“Because I’m your mother,” she says, her chestnut eyes glistening. “And I hurt you enough without adding more to it.”
“You think that’s noble?” I snort.
“I think it’s the least I can do.”
I cross my arms. “You are so full of shit! Like I can believe a word you say. You said you left to sort things out with Uncle Ethan because of the curse, which was supposed to be yours, but it’s JUST another lie. Don’t fucking lie! Don’t pretend it was only for that. You left on my birthdays. My birthdays, *Mother*. I spent them without you. Always waiting for you to show up like a stupid pup!”
“I know,” she whispers. “I hate myself for it, baby.”
“You should!”
“I *do.*” Her voice is stronger now, and it cuts. “You have no idea what I went through with your father. You only saw some parts, Lily… You didn’t see the choices I made so you could have at least a *chance* at something normal.”
“Normal?” I laugh bitterly. “You call *that* normal?”
“No.” She exhales hard. Our eyes lock. “I call that what happens when a traumatized woman tries to raise a daughter while barely holding herself together! And I’m just able to finally realize it because of Cedar’s help. But you’re right. I could’ve done better. I *should* have. If I could go back... Oh, Lily.” She almost sobs. “I would change everything!”
She’s crying now. Mom never sobs if she can help it. Just tears sliding down that elegant, perfectly controlled face.
“I can’t change the past. But I will carry the pain of failing you for the rest of my life, Lily.”
My anger fractures. Just for a second. But I patch it up before it shows.
“Good,” I snap. “Because I carry it too.”
She looks at me like she wants to hold me. I step back.
“You don’t get to pretend this ends with a hug and a happy ending,” I say, my voice trembling. “You don’t get to clean up years of damage with some teary apology and hope I’ll forget everything.”
“I know that.” She steps back, too. “But I had to try. Because I *won’t* give up on you. No matter how much you hate me.”
She broke me. She left me. She tried. She failed. She’s still trying.
And I don’t know how to forgive any of it.
It’s so hard! Why is it so hard to damn forgive?
I storm back to my feet, my shoulders squared, fists trembling. My voice rips through the still night, echoing off the wooden walls of the treehouse like thunder.
“You think this is about hate? You think I scream just because I want to *hurt* you?” I laugh, shaking. “I scream because I’ve spent my whole life swallowing your silence, your *guilt*! And you always had an excuse, didn’t you? Always something *noble* behind it! Nothing is ever your fault!”
My mother doesn’t speak. She stands there, still as stone, as I pace like a trapped wolf.
“You let *him* manipulate you,” I hiss, venom rising like bile. “You let that bastard—your fake mate—twist everything. And then, when he wasn’t here anymore, you kept looking at me like you saw him instead of *me*. You made me think I was the mistake!”
“That’s not true!” my mother says firmly.
“It *is*! You acted like the only thing that mattered was that sweet little princess you had with Cedar. Like *Wren* was your clean slate. Your redemption. Your perfect fucking daughter—”
“She is not—”
“I know she’s your favorite, right?” 
“I never told—” 
“You’d *never* say it but Goddess, it felt like it!” I snap. “You praised her. You protected her. And me? I was the mess you couldn’t clean up, the stain that reminded you of the most shitty decision you ever made!”
“I never meant to make you feel that way.” My mother takes a step forward. “I—”
“*Well, you fucking did!*” I yell, and it breaks me. My whole body shudders with the force of it. My wolf wants to shift and takes control of my body. “You made me feel like I was some weight you had to carry! Like I was this... this *burden* you couldn’t shake no matter how much you wanted to!”
Tears stream down my face, furious and hot.
“Your perfect little princess got all your softness, all your praise—”
“Stop that,” she snaps, eyes narrowing.
“Oh, did I hit a nerve? Too bad. You want honesty? Here it is, Wren was your second chance. The do-over. The perfect one. The one you never walked away from.”
“That is not true!”
“Then *why* did it feel like it?” I yell. “Why didn’t I have your attention? While Wren had it handed to her like a gift?”
“I never—”
“I don’t feel loved by you!” I scream, voice cracking. “I feel like a burden! Like this thing you got stuck with and couldn’t quite throw away, so you tolerated me out of duty!”
“You were never a burden,” she says softly. “You were my world.”
I laugh bitterly, wiping my face with the back of my sleeve. “Could’ve fooled me, Mother… You made me feel like I wasn’t enough! I told myself not to care… But I did. And it killed me.”
My mother closes the distance. 
No hesitation. 
She pulls me into her arms. I resist, squirming with pride and grief and rage. But then my mother just *holds* me. She doesn’t try to hush the storm inside me. 
“I would never want to get rid of you,” she says, her voice thick and trembling. “Not in a thousand lifetimes. Lily, *you are my daughter.* You are just as important to me as your sister. You always were.”
I cry harder, my knees giving out as they sink to the floor together. My sobs are ugly. Harsh. I grip my mother’s coat like a lifeline.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper between sobs. “I’m sorry I’m not better... That I’m like this. That I’m *me*. I’m sorry I’m not perfect like Wren—”
Mom cups my face, forcing me to meet her eyes.
“Don’t say that. You don’t need to be like Wren. For me, you already are perfect, Lily.”
I shake my head, but Mom doesn’t stop.
“You are the strongest, most determined person I’ve ever known. You carry your pain like armor. You fight for the people you love—even when you feel like no one fights for you. You’re *braver* than I’ve ever been.”
My shoulders shake, my tears blur my sight. “You really mean that?”
“I do. I’m proud of you, Lily. Even when you hate me. Even when you push me away.”
“I don’t hate you, Mom,” I choke. “I thought you left because you didn’t want me,” I confess.
She kisses the top of my head. “Oh, Lily! My sweet Lily. It was never because of you. You were and you are my world.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” 
“I know, baby.”
I choke, “I just—I didn’t know how to be close to you. I was scared. I was scared you would see too much of him in me.”
Mom nods, wiping my tears with one hand. “I was scared too. But we can stop being scared now, Lily.”
We hold each other in the small wooden room. The silence is no longer sharp. It’s soft and healing.
And for the first time in years, I let myself believe that maybe I’m not too broken to be loved.
I pull back a little, just enough to see her face. Her mascara has smudged beneath her eyes. Violet King is elegant even when ruined. Of course.
I suck in a shaky breath. “If I’m gonna try to accept you again…” I start, voice still hoarse, “then you better be ready to accept Poppy.”
Her brows rise, just slightly. “I already have.”
I blink. “What?”
“She’s sleeping in your bedroom,” she says, like it’s no big deal. “At home.”
I pull away fully now, wiping my own face with the heel of my hand. “Wait. *What?* Since when? I thought she was at the packhouse with Az.”
“She didn’t want to stay there,” Mom says. “Because of Az. And because of you. She asked Allie if there was somewhere else, and Cedar said she could stay with us.”
I stare. “Cedar said that?”
She nods. “He said she belongs there. That she should feel safe. That it was the least he could do after her brother...”
I exhale. “Wow.”
She didn’t slam the door in Poppy’s face, and that’s already more than I expected.
“She’s… quiet,” Mom adds. “Polite.”
That’s code for *I don’t know what to do with her but she hasn’t broken anything yet*, which honestly is a step up for anyone under this roof.
“You don’t have to like her,” I say carefully. “But you can’t look at her like she’s her mother. Because she isn’t. And I won’t let you.”
She tilts her head. “You really love that witch.”
“I do.”
Another pause. She’s watching me, something unreadable behind her eyes. But then she nods, and it’s not performative or reluctant. It’s real.
“I’ll try,” Mom says. “For you.”
My throat tightens again, but I force a smile. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Truth is, I wasn’t even asking. I was warning her. But now? I actually think she meant it.
And *fuck*, that means something.
I may be mad at them, but my angel and Az are everything to me.
“She may be small, but my angel is braver than she looks,” I murmur. “I don’t know how she lived all this time. After what Razor’s pack did to her, after Uncle Ethan and you did to her, after everything she went through...”
“Neither do I,” Mom says. I catch the smallest flicker of something soft in her expression. “She’s not what I expected.”
We sit in silence again, but this time, I don’t feel like running from it. It’s strange, the quiet. It used to make me feel like I was suffocating. Now it feels like breathing.
“I didn’t think we’d get here,” I say, almost to myself. I let out a long exhale.
“Neither did I,” Mom admits.
I glance sideways at her. “Still think I’m difficult?”
Mom snorts softly. “You’re impossible.”
I smirk. “Good.”
She bumps her shoulder against mine. 
I let it happen and don’t flinch or snarl.
Maybe we’ll never have the same relationship she has with Wren. But maybe we can be *this*—two broken women who finally stopped pretending they’re whole.
I can work with that.