Chapter 131

The day felt like it wanted to split itself in half. One part humming with the quiet joy of planning a wedding I never thought I would get to have. The other part carrying the heavy shadow of that letter. The handwriting. The truth wrapped inside it like a fuse waiting for a match.

“Skye wasn’t the only one trying to keep you apart’. The words haunted the edges of every moment.

I tried to focus on the stack of fabric swatches spread across the table. Jess had found the box tucked behind the bar’s old storage closet. Silk in soft blues. Lace in creamy ivory. A darker piece in a deep wine color that Tannin kept insisting would “look lethal on me in the best possible way”. But every so often my gaze drifted toward the folded letter resting beside my elbow. Torin noticed. He always noticed.

He brushed his hand along my back as he passed behind me, his touch slow and grounding. “You want to take a break?” he asked softly.

I shook my head. “If I stop, I’ll just start thinking again.”

“You’re thinking now,” he said gently.

I let out a long breath and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “I keep trying to conjure her voice,” I whispered. “Like maybe if I stare hard enough at that paper, something in my brain will click.”

Rook sat across from me with his injured arm propped on a pillow. He looked tired from pretending it didn’t hurt, and more tired from pretending he wasn’t watching me like a hawk. “It doesn’t work like that,” he said. “Memory is a stubborn bitch. Shows up when she wants to.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “I’m figuring that out.”

Reif wandered through the kitchen with a bowl of cereal, chewing loudly and blissfully unaware of emotional landmines. “Does this mean I should put pants on?” he asked.

Tannin chuckled. “For the love of all that is holy, yes.”

Reif shrugged and padded off toward the bedroom.

Rook muttered, “This house is chaos.”

“This house is family,” Torin said.

My heart did a small painful twist. He was right. But family was complicated. Especially mine.

Jess finally returned from the hallway where he had been pretending not to listen. He set his coffee down and folded his arms. “I know something is bothering you,” he said. “So spit it out.”

My fingers curled loosely around the edge of the table. “The line in the letter,” I said. “The one about someone else trying to keep Torin and me apart. What does that even mean? Who else? Why? And why write it for me to find decades later?”

Jess let out a slow breath and lowered himself into a chair. “Your mother was smart,” he said. “And scared. That makes people unpredictable.”

I rubbed my thumb along the edge of the letter. “Do you think she meant Skye? Or someone else at the club? Or Lucien’s father?”

Jess hesitated. That hesitation made the room feel suddenly smaller.

Torin stepped closer, his brow tightening. “You know something,” he said.

Jess nodded once. “I was waiting for the right time.”

“The right time for what?” I asked, heart climbing into my throat.

Jess reached across the table and tapped the letter lightly. “Before your mother left you behind, she tried to take you once. Tried to get you out of the compound. She wasn’t trying to run from Skye. She was trying to run from someone Skye listened to.”

I stared at him, breath caught. “Who?”

Jess’s voice dropped. “Your brother. Dillon.”

The air went still. Even the city noise outside seemed to fade.

Rook sat forward slowly. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped near his temple. “Dillon?” he said. “Are you goddamn joking?”

Jess shook his head. “No joke.”

My stomach twisted. Dillon. My brother. My childhood protector. My nightmare. The one who had controlled every breath I took in that compound. The one I had run from more times than I remembered.

“He told Skye your mother was planning to leave with both you and Rook,” Jess continued. “Told Skye that she had been meeting with Lucien’s father behind his back. Skye reacted like Skye reacts. Violence first. Logic never. He threw her out. Forced her to leave you.”

Torin’s hand found my shoulder. His grip tightened as though he felt the tremor traveling through me.

Jess’s expression softened. “But your mother didn’t stop trying. She left that letter with someone she trusted in case anything ever happened to her. It was supposed to be delivered when you turned sixteen. But things went sideways. That someone landed in prison. Then got moved. Then transferred again. Your note got buried in evidence. When the case files reopened after Lucien’s arrest, it surfaced.”

“Which is how you found it,” I whispered.

Jess nodded.

I touched the edge of the photo. My mother’s smile. Her arm around two babies she had been forced to leave behind. Twins. Both loved. Both kept apart.

“It wasn’t Skye,” I said quietly. “Not fully.”

“No,” Jess said. “Skye had plenty of his own sins, but Dillon fueled it. Dillon made sure you never stood a chance at leaving that place.”

My throat tightened so hard it hurt. The truth pressed in deep and sharp.

Torin crouched beside me and rested his hand on my knee. “Look at me,” he said softly.

I did.

His eyes held something fierce and warm and steady. “None of their choices define you,” he said. “Not Skye. Not Dillon. Not Lucien’s father. Not your mom. You define you.”

My eyes stung.

Rook cleared his throat, voice rough. “You’re not her story,” he said. “Or Skye’s. Or Dillon’s. You get to tell your own damn story now.”

Jess nodded. “That’s why I gave you the letter. You deserved the truth. Not the version Skye wanted you to live with.”

I breathed slowly through the ache in my chest. The truth didn’t hurt the way I feared. It opened something instead. Parts of myself I didn’t know I had been missing.

Torin rose and took my hand. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s step outside.”

I stood on shaky legs and followed him to the small balcony. The city stretched outward in soft colors. People moved on sidewalks below like the world had decided to keep turning after all.

He took my face in both hands. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“No,” I said honestly. “But I’m getting there.”

He kissed my forehead. “We’ll get there together.”

I leaned into him, letting myself breathe, letting the truth settle without breaking me. The letter didn’t change my life. It clarified it, and somewhere inside that clarity was the next step forward. The next chapter. The next version of me.