I let the phone go dark, wishing I could fall asleep like the others. The cabin had been dimmed a few hours after departure for us, but my mind wouldn’t turn off enough to sleep.
Half of Nikolai’s council was on this plane, scattered around the plush, spacious interior. It was the same plane Dimitri had brought me to Russia in, but I hadn’t taken the time to really pay attention to the interior. I had been too busy freaking out to appreciate the buttery soft leather, the shiny wood accents, and the gold finishes.
Blackwater’s plane looked tiny and a little worn down by comparison.
I was still looking around the plane when my eyes landed on Nikolai’s. He wasn’t sleeping either from where he sat further down the plane on a long couch-like bench.
Carefully, he lifted Natasha’s head from his lap and stood, sliding a pillow under her head before he headed down the aisle towards me.
Alexei was across the aisle from me, and his eyes opened at the Alpha’s approach. He got out of his seat and moved towards the rear of the plane while Nikolai sat down.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly. His accent was a little more Russian now, and I could see he was tired, too.
I shook my head. “Too anxious.”
“I’d imagine this is something like Christmas morning for you,” he replied with a smile. “Too excited to sleep because tomorrow holds the promise of great joy.”
I tried to smile back and failed. “I didn’t have those. Christmas wasn’t a thing we celebrated when I was a kid. All the major holidays were just another day.”
His mouth flattened. “I’m sorry. I should have known.”
I reached across the aisle and touched his hand. “You couldn’t have known.”
“You told me how your mother suffered,” he said slowly, fear and loathing swirling in his eyes, “but you were a child. I would have imagined you didn’t suffer the same fate.”
I was quiet for a long minute. “Not the same fate, but I was her daughter. Proof that she had violated the marriage treaty between Long Mesa and Stone Valley.”
“And for that sin they punished you as well?” He breathed the question, letting it hang between us for an agonizing pause.
“At first I was too young to understand what was going on,” I admitted hesitantly. “I didn’t understand the bruises and why Mom cried all the time. Why everyone in the pack hated us. Why there was never enough food or how people could do nothing while we struggled to survive each day.”
He stayed quiet, waiting for me to continue with endless patience and zero judgement or pity.
That made it easier to keep talking.
“Most of the time it was just us in the omega house,” I said. “But then more were added when … when it became clear that more people wanted to visit my mother than she could handle.”
His eyes closed in sheer agony for a second, his hand curling so hard around the armrest that the metal groaned and began to twist.
“None of the other omegas made it,” I added, thinking of Maisie and how scared she had been. “The two left behind after Mom and I escaped were killed for helping us, even though they didn’t. The ones before them died from the abuse or suicide. Mom was the only one who survived.”
“Because your mother is no omega,” he hissed. “She’s strong. She’s a fighter.”
I nodded. “Yeah. But she’s also been hurt in more ways than either one of us can imagine. So, if you’re planning on doing what Natasha suggested? On trying to rekindle some kind of connection?”
“Don’t do it?” he finished for me coldly.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Be careful. Don’t break her heart any more than it has been. Please.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until Nikolai’s fingers swept the tears from my cheeks.
“You don’t think I should let her go? Let her live her own life?” he asked, his voice breaking a bit.
“Natasha said that out of everyone she knows, you deserve happiness the most,” I replied. “Out of everyone I know? My mom deserves that, too. Maybe what was broken can be fixed, maybe it can’t. But isn’t it worth taking the time to find out? I know that every time Mom was stressed or sad or close to breaking, she touched this.”
I closed a hand over my own claiming mark, feeling the raised scars. I traced the mark, letting myself relive that night and that moment.