CHAPTER 56: GIRL POWER!

HAZEL

I walked fast through the hallway, my footsteps echoing off the walls. My heart pounded in my chest, half from anger, half from the thrill of knowing Father was following me.

I heard him call my name again. "Hazel, wait!"

I didn’t slow down. I pushed open my bedroom door and stepped inside, leaving it open just enough to read as an invitation.

He came in a moment later, his face creased with worry. His shoulders sagged like he was carrying something too heavy. Good.

"Hazel," he said softly. "Baby, please look at me."

I turned away from him, moving to the window. I wrapped my arms around myself, making myself look small and vulnerable. The moonlight caught on the glass and I could see his reflection behind mine.

"I don’t know what to say anymore, Father," I said. My voice came out quiet, defeated. "I keep trying. I keep being the good daughter. But it’s never enough."

"That’s not true." He moved closer. I could feel him hovering behind me, uncertain. "Hazel, that’s not true at all."

"Then why?" I turned to face him. The tears were still wet on my cheeks. "Why is it always about her? Why do you always look for reasons to defend her? To worry about her? To protect her?"

"Because she’s still my daughter," Father said. His voice cracked on the words. "I know what she did was wrong. I know that. But Hazel, you have to understand. Her mother is dead. I am her only rock and what Cian Donlon said that day, in our own territory, standing right in front of me. He promised to torment her."

I watched him struggle with the words. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

"He said it like it was nothing," Father continued. "Like he was discussing the weather. And I’m her father. How am I supposed to react to that? How am I supposed to sleep knowing my daughter is with someone who openly admitted he wants to make her suffer?"

There it was. The guilt I’d been counting on. The weakness I knew was there.

I let my face soften just a little. "I understand that, Father. I do."

"I couldn’t even go see her myself," he said. His voice dropped lower, almost ashamed. "Your mother was right about that. I am too emotional. If I’d gone to Skollrend, if I’d seen Fia and seen even a hint that she was being hurt, I would have done something stupid. Something that could have started a war. A war I am well aware I will lose."

I moved closer to him. Slowly. Like I was approaching something fragile that might break.

"Father," I said gently. "I was there. I saw her. And I’m telling you the truth. Alpha Cian wasn’t kind, but he wasn’t tormenting her. She had her own space. She wasn’t being beaten or starved or tortured. She looked fine."

Father’s eyes searched my face. He wanted so badly to believe me. I could see it written all over him.

"You’re sure?" he asked.

"I’m sure," I said. I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. "I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that. You know I wouldn’t."

His shoulders relaxed slightly. "I believe you."

The relief in his voice was almost pathetic. But I didn’t let that show on my face. Instead, I looked down at our joined hands and felt the tears well up again.

"What happened to you," Father said suddenly. His free hand came up to cup my cheek. "What Milo did. Hazel, you have to know that wasn’t your fault and I do not blame you if that is what it feels like."

The words hit me harder than I expected. Not because they meant anything, but because I could use them.

"It doesn’t feel that way," I whispered. I let my voice shake. "It feels like I’m being punished for something. Like the universe decided I deserved this somehow."

"No," Father said firmly. "Absolutely not. Don’t you ever think that."

"But I do," I said. The tears spilled over again. "I’m your daughter. I should be strong. Instead I’m here, and I feel like I am being told that I am now damaged. It feels humiliating, because everyone knows it. Why else would you prevent me from going to Alpha Julius’s wedding?"

Father pulled me into his arms. I let myself sink into the embrace, pressing my face against his chest.

"I know the wedding is coming up," he said quietly. "And honestly, if it was up to me, even your mother and myself wouldn’t go at all."

Fuck! I stiffened in his arms. This wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

"But," Father continued, "we got that invitation because of our new affiliation with Skollrend. It’s catapulted us into a different level of pack politics. To skip the very first major formal event we’re invited to would be seen as disrespectful. It would undo everything we’ve gained apparently."

I pulled back slightly to look at him. "So why am I not being involved? I am your daughter. Your legitimate daughter."

"I know," Father said. He looked pained. "But Hazel, you know how werewolf society can be. What Fia did is still a scandal hanging over Silver Creek. And your assault doesn’t help either."

The words stung. Not because they hurt my feelings, but because they were threatening my plan.

"I can take the biting remarks," Father said. "I’ve been in this shit long enough. But you, sweetheart, you’re still recovering. I don’t want to put you in a position where you have to face all those people, all those whispers and judgments."

I could feel my opportunity slipping away. I needed to be at that wedding. I needed to see cement myself in their minds.

I wiped my eyes and straightened my spine. When I spoke, I made sure my voice came out strong. Determined.

"I’m not ashamed," I said. "And I won’t be shamed for surviving what happened to me."

Father’s expression shifted to surprise.

"Those people can whisper all they want," I continued. "They can judge and gossip and say whatever makes them feel superior. But I won’t give Milo that power over me. I won’t let what he did dictate how I live my life or where I go or who I face."

I took Father’s hand again, holding it tight between both of mine.

"Don’t take away my power too," I said. I looked up at him, letting my eyes fill with fresh tears. I tried not to let them be sad tears this time. I managed defiant ones. "Everyone else might try to make me small. To make me hide. To make me feel like I’m the one who did something wrong. Please don’t be another person who does that to me."

Father’s face crumpled. His eyes got wet and he pulled me close again, this time fiercer. More protective.

"How could I say no to that?" His voice was rough with emotion. "You’re right. You’re absolutely right."

I felt a surge of victory but I kept it off my face. I just held onto him, letting him think he was comforting me.

"If you want to come with us to the wedding," Father said, "then that’s what we’ll do. You shouldn’t have to hide. You didn’t do anything wrong."

"Thank you," I whispered against his chest.

We stood there for a long moment. His hand stroked my hair and I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek. Strong, steady and completely convinced that he was doing the right thing.

Finally, he pulled back and looked down at me. His eyes were still wet but he was smiling. That soft, proud smile he used to give me when I was little and did something easy that impressed him.

"You’re stronger than I gave you credit for," he said. "I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t important. Like you weren’t my priority. That was never my intention."

"I know," I said. I gave him a small smile back. "I know you love us both. I just needed to hear that you see me too."

"I do see you," Father said. "And I’m proud of you. For surviving. For standing up for yourself. For not letting this break you."

The words should have meant something. Maybe to a different daughter they would have. Fia would have definitely enjoyed this.

But all I felt was satisfaction.

I had what I wanted. I was going to that wedding.

Father kissed my forehead and told me to get some rest. He said tomorrow we’d start preparing, that he’d make sure I had everything I needed. A new dress if I wanted one. Whatever would make me feel confident and strong.

I thanked him and watched him leave, closing the door softly behind him.

The moment I was alone, the tears stopped. Just like that. I walked to my mirror and looked at my reflection. My eyes were still red and puffy, my cheeks blotchy. I looked like I’d been through an ordeal.

It looked so good that I couldn’t help but smile at myself. A real smile this time.