Page 222 of Broken Bonds

“True,” Morning says. “I happen to know a good family law attorney who’s licensed to practice in the state of Georgia,” he playfully adds before sipping his mead. “And I have it on good authority he’ll work cheap. As in for you and yours, free.” He winks.

I laugh. “I’ll make sure she talks to you.”

Our gathering breaks up a couple of hours later, and I head out with my people. Marchman and his folks have more business to deal with, but at least I can reassure my pack and the nest members under our protection that the worst seems to be over.

I hope.

Chapter Eighty-Two

Mal

Aftermath

I’ll never be able to express how damned freeing it felt telling my old man to go fuck himself. I’ve never done drugs, but I was flying after the call, exhilarated.

Like, nearly as good as sex high.

From her smile and the way the tension seemed to melt from her, I’m certain Mom enjoyed the call.

That was a thing of beauty, listening to her curse him out. I sat there, wide-eyed and shocked because I don’t think I ever heard her swear, much less talk back to him.

It’s too much to hope he’ll stroke out from the conversation, isn’t it?

Jax expects the attack will happen the next morning, so we wait. We all stay at the house, watching TV all day, Mom and I snuggling on the couch while not discussing the elephant hanging over our heads.

Todd and I are in the kitchen when he receives Jax’s text that evening. The way his expression goes blankly grim as he reads it tells me everything I need to know, even before he hands me his phone.

I lean back against the counter, staring at Todd’s phone.

RS, TS, DS, HS 86d. Losses: 0

That’s the code Jax established with Todd.

The other Sterling men are dead, and none of ours are.

The fact that my new life can now truly start in earnest, free of fear, boiled down to these letters and numbers, feels…surreal.

I’m…conflicted. Part of me wants to jump up and down and scream in victory.

The rest of me that’s not a raging psychopath knows this is a victory, but it’s definitely not a win. Not for all the people who died, who lost loved ones, people traumatized for life, all because my father was a raging psychopath.

No one “wins” in this scenario.

All it does is prevent future catastrophic loss.

Maybe, from this point forward, healing can begin with vengeance finally administered and the threat eliminated.

Mom fell asleep on the couch, and I hate that I have to wake her to break this news. Hating Dad and hating her sons are two different beasts, and I know it’ll be somewhat conflicting for her.

Todd touches my arm. “Want me to tell her?” he silently asks.

I should be the one to do it, but I find myself nodding and tearfully whisper, “Please.”

He pulls me in for a long hug, kissing the top of my head before taking me by the hand and leading me to the couch.

He crouches beside it. “Freya,” he softly says, touching Mom’s shoulder, trying not to startle her.

Her eyes flutter open, and she focuses first on Todd, then me standing behind him.