Captured - Cara Wylde Page 0,45

on my side, sort of, and he had believed me. That was a step forward.

But I’d miscalculated a bit, and that became obvious when Thorn and I approached his brother’s cabin.

The sound of raised voices reached our ears before we even went inside.

“Mama Rose, we’re fine. This isn’t something you should worry about right now,” Jax said.

“It’s my job to worry about you, pup,” a female voice replied. “You might be an adult Alpha, but I’m still your mother. And I expect better from you. Especially now.”

By my side, Thorn was very tense, but he ushered me forward anyway. I felt a new wave of panic flow over me. I was not ready to talk to my lovers’ mother. Not now, maybe not ever.

The door opened. On autopilot, I walked forward. And there they were. Reid and Jax were standing in Jax’s small living room. A female werewolf sat on his couch, her gaze already on us. Her hair was as white as snow, falling to her shoulders in soft waves very similar to Thorn’s. But she had Reid’s sharp green eyes, and the moment she looked at me, I froze like a deer in the headlights. She was obviously not human. Her skin was, for the most part, smooth, almost completely free of wrinkles. But like Jax, she had scars, with a particularly vicious one slashing over her cheek. And in her stance, I saw a predator just as vicious as her sons were.

I was pretty sure she had been at Chase’s funeral, but at the time, I’d been too distracted by my own grief and terror to pay too much attention to her. Big mistake.

“So, you’re the female that has my sons all tied up in knots,” she said. “I was wondering when I’d get to meet you properly. These stupid boys kept you so busy I couldn’t come see you.”

She threw the brothers a chastising glare, and Jax grimaced. “Mama Rose…”

“Don’t take that tone with me, pup,” the female werewolf said. “And I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to her. Isabel Bishop, is it?”

“Yes, Mrs. Woodward,” I replied, and felt proud when my voice didn’t shake.

She chuckled lightly and got up. “Don’t call me that, dear. Mrs. Woodward… That’s just for humans. Mama Rose is fine.”

Okay, then. “Mama Rose,” I repeated like an automaton.

She nodded, satisfied with my compliance. Then, she turned toward Thorn. “Is there something wrong, Thorn? I assume you wanted to talk to Jax?”

“Yes and no,” Thorn replied. “It’s about the same issue you brought up with them, but I’m not the one who wanted to say something.”

“Oh?” Mama Rose arched a white brow at me. “Is that true, Isabel? Did you want to talk to my sons?”

I swallowed around the knot in my throat. There was something dark and predatory in her tone, and I had the feeling she expected me to say “no”. Maybe I should have gone along with her expectations. Maybe I should have fled, because what right did I have to bring this up in front of this woman? Her fourth son had just died, after all. But I’d made Thorn a promise. Besides, I couldn’t hide forever. Sooner or later, I had to face this, and so did they.

I squared my shoulders and forced myself to calm down. “Yes. We… Everything that’s been going on has been complicated. Strange and painful. For all of us. Your loss… I can’t even begin to imagine how it must feel.” A shadow crossed Mama Rose’s face, but I continued. “Nothing can be as painful as losing a child. And I’d apologize, but I think that would be even crueler. Because an ‘I’m sorry’ wouldn’t bring Chase back.”

She didn’t answer and I took that as encouragement.

“My family… I… I don’t know how to explain my relationship with them. I loved them, in my own way. I don’t think I knew how not to love them, if that makes sense. But at the same time, I hated them.” I closed my eyes, dark memories flashing through my mind. “They were always so cruel, and I didn’t understand why. And I know this isn’t an excuse, but when I asked questions, when I tried to argue with them, they’d always threaten me. I’ve only ever wanted… This will sound stupid, but I’ve only ever wanted to be free of that cruelty.”

It was hard to express my feelings for my family because I still remembered their gruesome deaths. Claiming it didn’t weigh on me,