It was official, Cade gave me the creeps. The more time I spent down in the cells with him, the more my body reacted negatively. He would make the hairs on my arms stand up straight whenever he was near and I would break into a cold sweat, making my body clammy. "I would have hated to be mated to him, poor Miranda." I thought.
Standing at the island, I took a white porcelain mug out of the cabinet and carefully placed it on the counter. The frail handle was starting to crack from years of abuse, but due to its sentimental value I couldn't part with it.
Pouring in scalding hot water, I placed a silver spoon inside and swirled the contents around, careful to not splash anything onto the counter. It was at times like these where I was confused and conflicted, wishing that my Mother was here to offer her advice and guidance.
Somehow she always knew what to say to comfort me and what to do to motivate me. We always had a cup of tea with our white porcelain mugs while conversing about my problems.
Suddenly, a surge of pain rippled through my hand. I was so distracted that I had started stirring more vigorously, causing the liquid to burn my skin.
Swearing under my breath, I placed my hand under cold water to sooth the stinging just as my phone pinged. With my free hand, I picked it up, scrolling through my unread messages.
Mitchell: Hey sis, can I stop by? I need to talk to you about something.
It was probably about my out lash towards Sebastian and Tessa, which was all an act, so I reluctantly agreed.
Me: Yeah, come on over.
While waiting, I walked around the house, opening some windows to let in some fresh air. My poor home had been abandoned, unable to see the sun to warm its cold floors.
Opening the window in the front room, Mitchell pulled up into the driveway as his blue pick up truck crunched over the gravel. He must have been right around the corner to make it to me that quick.
Stepping out on the patio, I waited for him to exit the vehicle and make his way to me. It was obvious that he came from work since he was in brown work boots and a red flannel button up shirt.
I always teased him and asked him if he was a farmer since I could easily picture a straw hat on his head which completed the look. According to him, the flannel made him feel more masculine.
"To what do I owe this honor?" I smiled playfully, kissing his cheek and embracing him in a hug.
"Can we go in and sit down?" He asked seriously. Normally, we would exchange a few friendly gestures before getting to the actual conversation. This was very strange.
Cocking my head to the side and squinting my eyes from the sunlight, I agreed and moved out of his way so he could enter the house.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
Mitchell only ever asked to talk when something was wrong. The last time he uttered those words was when he requested to move in with me after he lost his job.
Sitting at the table, his hands were trembling and he kept biting the inside of his lip. "Veronica, I wanted to share this secret of mine with you for a long time."
What secret could he possibly have? Maybe he was secretly married or maybe he killed someone. At this point, I had no idea.
Running his fingers through his hair, he rested his elbows on the table and placed his chin on his knuckles. "I know you've been spending a lot of time with Sebastian Cross."
Watching him, I briefly nodded my head in confirmation.
"He’s a werewolf, alpha of the Black Lace pack." He said blatantly.
My mouth hung open in shock. "How do you know that, Mitchell? I was told that very few humans know."
Shaking his head, he rested his hands on mine. "I know because I am part of the Black Lace pack."
"What? Are you mated to a werewolf like I am?" I asked, still confused.
"Veronica, I am part werewolf. That is how I'm part of the pack." The words slipped off his tongue like water rolling off a tarp.
"Excuse me? You're part werewolf? How is that even possible?" I screeched, eyes bulging wide.
Picking up his chair, he attempted to calm my already frazzled nerves, gently placing his arm around my shoulders.
"I can explain everything. It might be difficult to hear, but it is the honest truth." He smiled reassuringly, tugging me closer to his side.
"If you are part werewolf, then I am too, right?" I asked. If my memory served me correctly, you couldn’t just become a werewolf, it had to be passed on from previous generations.
Tears welling in his eyes, he shook his head, his heart breaking as he squeezed me tighter.
Inhaling deeply, he finally spoke, "We have different fathers. That's why I haven't talked to our father in years. He told me on a hunting trip that-."
I raised my hand, silencing him. I just needed a minute for everything to sink in, to accept the truth that had been hidden for so many years.
"I don't understand." I whispered. How could this be possible?
"Mom met our dad when you were a baby. They decided to raise you as their own." Mitchell replied, his eyes still glassy.
"Why? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Tears streamed down my face, cascading to my chin and dripping onto my arm.
"To protect you, to save you from the pain you’re feeling right now." He sighed, his eyes shimmering with sincerities as he rubbed my back. "Our father took care of you like his own, V, you can't blame him."
Who could I blame then? I couldn't be mad at Mitchell, as this wasn’t his secret to tell. It was my mother, who tricked me into thinking my father was my biological one all along.
How could the two people who were supposed to protect me lie to me my whole life? What kind of parent would do that to their child? I couldn’t stop the feeling of betrayal that throbbed deep in my heart, or perhaps, the sense of loneliness that followed.
After a few more minutes of sobbing, I attempted to gather my emotions and put them aside.
"Mitch, if Dad isn't my real father, who is?"
“I don’t know,” he replied hollowly. “I’m so sorry, V.”
There was only the soft sniffles and drip dripping of my salty tears. Then, the realization hit me.
I didn't even know who I was.
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