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“What did he ask you, Bevin?” she asked gently. “Did he touch you?”

I shook my head and mopped up my face. “No, but he thought I was a pervert who touched herself at eight . I didn’t—he asked if I did more than wipe when I went potty. It didn’t make sense, but he would ask stuff like that or if I did things when I dressed. I didn’t understand until years later when I learned about masturbating, and then I was so horrified that…”

“Sick fucker,” she hissed.

“He thought that was why I was a magical void and had no familiar,” I seethed. Then I let out a wordless scream.

“Again,” Emma pushed. She pointed over to a tree. “I heard you’ve got good energy blasts. Destroy that tree.” She shrugged. “Do it. Because you can and it’s a good weapon. Be prepared and get the—”

I screamed and let out an energy blast that took out a couple of trees.

Whoops.

But it helped.

“That felt good,” I admitted.

“You’ve been repressed too long. That’s what we learn as women from top-tier families,” she said gently. “I’ll teach you how to shoot. The shooting range helps me. Your land is too nice to fuck up.”

“Thanks, Emma.”

She shrugged. “I’m getting a lot out of this too. I don’t have any female friends who escaped their top-tier families either. I’m hoping this is just as cathartic for me.” She waved me to come on and get back to running so I did. “You ever tell anyone about that sicko?”

“No. I honestly forgot about him with everything else and—everything was so dark especially after Grandfather died. That guy wasn’t the only one. They brought in specialists to help me unlock my magic. So many assholes came to give me screenings and sessions so they could match me with a familiar like that would do it.”

“Yeah, that explains you blowing up at Dr. Moon for not helping you,” she muttered.

I considered that a moment. “I might have been harsher than she deserved, but that was because I really wanted the help and she yanked the hope away from me. But really, it was because—she’s such a twat, Emma.” I nodded when she did a double take and almost lost her footing. “Seriously, her dismissive and bitchy attitude that all witches don’t leave and—”

“Yeah, I know the type,” she promised. “And then there is the other side of the coin like your mother who buys into it all. I’m shit on her shoes because I did leave and wasn’t watched over. Your grandmother too from what I hear. My purity was mine and—clutch the pearls!” She smiled when I snorted. “So now that we’ve got some good groundwork—”

“We can talk about what’s really going on with me? What I need the help with most?” I asked, trying not to get my hopes up again.

“Yes, and nothing said here gets repeated—that goes both ways. As long as neither admits to hurting ourselves or others.”

I heard the unasked question. “I don’t want to hurt myself. I’m having trouble getting out of bed and feel like I should just give up too often now, but—I’m not afraid to go up on the roof of my dorm because I might want to jump or anything.”

“Okay, good. Let me know if that changes. I won’t judge you. I won’t. That was how I felt after I was almost raped,” she said… Easily. She said it so easily that I almost tripped this time.

I grabbed her arm and turned her to face me, both of us having to catch our balance since we’d been running. “How do you do that? How do you own your traumas like that?”

She shook her head. “Bevin, you do it so much better than you think. You just told me easily that your parents were going to sacrifice you .” She booped me on the forehead. “You do better than you think.”

“Right, okay, but there’s been so much time since I’ve known it and…” That was the answer.

Time.

I’d had time to accept the crazy and trauma even if… Well, maybe “accept” wasn’t the right word. Did someone ever accept their parents planning to sacrifice them?

I didn’t think so.

But it also brought me back to what was really going on with me. “I killed someone. I ended their life.”

Pity filled her eyes. “Yeah, you did. That won’t ever fully leave you, especially us who are tied to life and magic. But it will get better. I promise you that it will.”

A whoosh of air left my lungs as what she was saying hit me. “You know.”

“I do.”

She gestured with her head for us to get back to jogging. We didn’t say anything as we finished the lap. We grabbed what we’d left out—gels, dates, and drinks. We would need it the next miles, and there was no point to carrying it when we didn’t have to.

“The first time I had to kill it was multiple people, but I was trained for it—there was a reason and purpose.” She took in a sharp breath. “Except someone was there that shouldn’t be. I killed him along with two others we were supposed to. Ten were supposed to die. We killed twelve when the dust settled.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve gone back and forth so many times and I still don’t have the answer,” she admitted. “There was no information on him being a bad guy, but could someone be clean who is the brother-in-law of a terrorist? What if he was forced? But he was still involved in dirty things then, right? How forced—people are forced into gangs, but they could choose otherwise.”

“And how much was lies or their evil?” I muttered. “I feel that way about Clare. So much was lies that I didn’t understand. She’s stepped up and admitted it was her blinders of being young and our fucked-up house—her resentment of me that Grandfather loved me. But she has no idea it was completely about me being blessed by a goddess.”

“Shit, that’s a lot. Fuck,” she whispered. “Yeah, it’s all got so many levels. Drives me nuts.” She let out a heavy breath. “I still see his face sometimes. Every few months.”

“The others?” I hedged. “The ones who were bad?”

“No. I feel the loss of life, but it’s more sometimes I wake feeling a weight on my chest. Like I know what I’ve done—even if right—still weighs on me.”

“I don’t really see his face,” I muttered after another mile or so. “I didn’t see it really that day. I see them coming around the corner with their guns out. I see them flying into the wall and getting upset that I was relieved they were out of the picture. Then I see him being loaded in the body bag.”

“All normal.”

“How long until I can be normal again?” I asked, tears in my voice.

“There is no normal again, Bevin,” she said firmly. “There is just you. Your new reality after taking a life. Just like with any other trauma or major change in your life. You aren’t the same Bevin you were in that house. You’re a new level—a different Bevin. You adjust and move forward.”

“I don’t know that that helps,” I admitted.

“You do what feels right,” she tried again but then snorted. “Or if you’re me, you go fuck a human you absolutely hate but was hot and everyone said was really great in bed. He was, and I wanted to feel anything else other than what I was feeling.”

“Did it work?” I wondered.

“Yes. Absolutely. Did it fuck with my head? Yeah, but looking back it definitely wasn’t a bad response. I don’t think there are bad responses, just responses. I mean, yeah, don’t go kill animals or the weird shit. But if you want to go have hot sex—have it. Drink? Sure. Run every day too hard? Okay. Eat your weight in donuts? Yeah, makes sense.”

I snorted, but then I seriously considered what she said. “It just feels weird being normal after I killed someone.”

“Yeah, because you’re not a fucking sociopath, hon. Of course. But you—it would be weird if you murdered someone and went and had sex or a hot date or anything normal. It was an accident. You have to stop thinking that you killed someone.”

“But I did,” I argued.

“Yeah, you did, but I—it’s framing. He died because he put himself there. He died because he was a corrupt fucker and went to kill Kevin. He died because of the situation he was in. He pulled his gun and you reacted . That’s how you have to start thinking about it. If he hadn’t shown up to do wrong, he’d be alive. That’s not on you.”

That was what others had been trying to tell me, but they hadn’t said it that way—it hadn’t clicked for me. They’d said that I’d taken a life to save one or I’d done the right thing.

But it all had been framed in what I’d done. This was… Better. It was better for me.

“Thanks, Emma,” I whispered.

“I get it. It’s a lot and hard to process. Only people who have gone through it know. Shit, I know people where a kid has accidentally died in their drone strike or they killed a lot of people in the wrong target. I’m not saying what you went through isn’t valid or hard. I’m saying you are not as alone as you feel right now.”

“You’re also saying there are others around me that I can talk to about this,” I hedged.

“Yes, yes, I am. They might not offer it because it’s a tough topic for all of us, but if you ask, they’ll help just like you helped them,” she promised. “But this is my therapy. This—I have a human friend who is still in the service and this was our therapy. You’d like her. She’s probably going to go career, so it’s nice to meet someone who I can have this with again.”

I thought about that for a few minutes. “I feel bad for not being strong enough to try again.”

She sighed. Heavily. “You’re too fucking hard on yourself. Damn, your family was worse than mine. Seriously. We just talked about why therapy isn’t the only answer or only way to achieve mental health or the goals you want.” She gave me a playful shove and smiled so it was clear there weren’t any hard feelings.

“Did you try?”

“After that first disaster—I have our witch version of endometriosis which isn’t as bad as the human one, but we need healers for it. That was a bitch to deal with while in the human military. Fuck. That was a joke, and Taylor owes so many favors for getting ones snuck to me or holding potions for me when things got bad.”

“Well, now you have a friend who can help pay some of those debts back,” I offered.

“You’re too nice,” she sighed.

“Yeah, you’re a horrible bitch ,” I drawled, gesturing between us and how she was up before seven on a Sunday running with me.

“Fair enough,” Emma chuckled. “But the military wanted me to do a full hysterectomy at twenty. Acted like it was a wart removed and just a defective part that should be tossed. I had to talk to a therapist about it and the gaslighting and level of—it was bad. I was tied into such knots until—I was a mess.

“Therapy can be great if you get the right person. If you don’t, it can really fuck with you, and I know my limits. I can’t risk a third strike. I’d end up in a padded room. That time it was a licensed professional. An actual psychologist who looked me dead in the eyes and basically told me to quit bitching and I wasn’t dying so I was lucky.”

“Wow. Just… Wow.”

“Yeah, but you experienced it with Leigh Moon. Not even picking on her. She’s just a person, and her own biases and probably traumatic past fucked with her helping you. She’s probably gone through a lot being the daughter of a councilman. A lot . We know that being from top-tier families. You do. When you’re not so pissed at her, you’ll probably forgive it.”

I nodded. She was right and I probably would.

Later. I was still a bit steamed it fucked with my chance of help.

I glanced at Emma and realized maybe I wasn’t anymore because this was actually more my vibe. “Yeah, but I might also thank her. This has been more helpful than sitting on that couch. I always feel like shit doing only one thing instead of multitasking when so many people need me now.”

“I know the feeling,” she chuckled. “And we were raised that women can’t be selfish. We have to give everything to our families. This is something selfish for ourselves. It’s not, and you run a major company with a lot of moving parts. If you’re not in good health, then it won’t be either. But that’s the mindset you have to get over. I’m still working on it.”

We finished our second lap, and I was impressed she was still going. She snickered and warned me she would have to tap out at the end of the next one. Still, it was nice to have someone run with me for real.

“How do I stop crying all of the time?” I asked her, realizing that was my other real problem. “You and Councilman Oliveria have helped me see that my puking and volatile reactions are already getting better—will over time when I feel safer and not so caged. How do I stop fucking sobbing at every little fucking thing and get a handle on myself?”

“Same thing,” she said gently. “Time. Patience with yourself.” She let out a slow breath. “Restraint.” She moved her hand to my arm when I turned to blast her. “Hear me out.”

“Okay.”

“There’s nothing wrong with crying. More people should feel their emotions and work through them. They bottle them up and explode. I’m not saying to ignore them or pretend nothing bad happens—this isn’t the military, and I really would never condone their idea of mental health.”

I snorted, glad she felt that way.

“Look, I’m not an expert and neither are you. Even the experts will tell you that you need to do what’s best for you . They give you tools in therapy for you to implement. Not what someone on TikTok or Instagram tells you to do. Hell, don’t listen to me if you think it’s stupid. I’m telling you what worked for me because you asked. I don’t give…”

I burst out laughing. She had given unsolicited advice.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” she chuckled. “ Normally , I don’t give unsolicited advice. You were fucking drowning and—you needed help. You were reaching out for help. That’s what I meant.”

That was more than fair and I said as much.

It took us a few minutes to get back to a calmer, serious tone again. “You ever seen those worksite signs that say so many days since an injury?” She waited until I nodded. “That’s what I did. When I was at my lowest and I felt like I couldn’t get a handle on anything , I put up one of those on a large Post-it pad. How many days since I last cried.”

I frowned. “That seems demeaning.”

“Maybe. Again, I’m not saying it’s the right answer. It’s the answer that worked for me . I told myself to stop fucking crying. Crying doesn’t solve problems. I went from never crying as a Hughes to always fucking crying because now I could and I didn’t know how to regulate. I didn’t know moderation or what was healthy.”

“You set limits and taught yourself what was normal.”

“Yes? Maybe.” She sighed. “I taught myself what I needed and normal for me. I don’t care about everyone else.” She gestured out to the world with her hand. “Fuck them. Fuck what they think is normal or what I should do. I care about me.” She thumped her chest. “I know what I need. I know what I’ve endured. And it’s a lot. It’s been too much for someone my age.”

“Yeah, no eighteen-year-old should be where I am,” I whispered, feeling good for admitting it— feeling it for real.

“So try it. Try to not cry. You did today. Fine. Done. Tomorrow, hold it in. Then hold it in on Tuesday and cry when you’re alone in your room. Learning how not to break in front of people isn’t a bad thing. You were just taught the extreme and now the dam broke. Fix the dam a bit. Make it a lower dam. That’s what I did.”

“And it got easier?”

“It took a few months but yeah, then I just realized I was at a week.” She snorted. “I broke down sobbing that I’d gone seven days without crying which fucked up my streak, but—we know how crying with relief is the best fucking cry there is. People who have truly been traumatized and lived in fear—nothing is more cleansing than crying in relief .”

“I don’t know that I’m there yet,” I admitted. “I just—”

“You’re still looking over your shoulder. I get it. It was about six months after I was in the military and Taylor sent me a clip from our media where my father and uncle were asked about me and they denied my existence. Not that it was a misunderstanding and I would be brought back into the fold—none of the normal shit. They changed their answer and I was free.”

“Yeah, I’m not there yet, and it will be more complicated with Clare.”

“Exactly, so just start focusing on getting through each day. You’re not in AA, but they’re not wrong on how they view things for more than addiction.”

“Thanks, Emma, really.”

“Glad to do it. Really. Just remember this when you see someone else in our spot. You’re not in a spot to help Clare, so don’t try to. I’ll talk to the others and maybe we can when we know for sure she’s really out. I don’t know that I’m comfortable telling her the truth, but—don’t take on keeping someone else floating right now, Bevin. That’s how you drown.”

“Yeah.”

“Kelton is proof of that.” She nodded when I flinched. “That was his crime, not throwing therapy in your face. Yeah, that was fucked, but he didn’t mean it like that. He—he fucked up. His mistake was trying to keep you afloat too when he’s drowning. His brother could have died because he wanted to be with you. He should have hit the brakes, not been the one to console you.”

Hearing her say that helped a lot. The framing but also because I’d felt that too. I asked her how I pushed that next time and how I communicated that better. I frowned when she laughed. Like laughed , and I didn’t think that was something to really laugh at.

Until she explained that she would never give me relationship advice and I would be stupid to ever ask her. She had a lot to offer me to grow and handle my past… Romantic relationship advice was not part of it. She’d apparently fucked a lot of people she shouldn’t have on top of loving someone she knew wasn’t a healthy fit for her.

Okay, yeah, when she put it that way, I didn’t want to ask her either.

I felt bad for saying it, but she simply laughed again and took off to finish her last two miles.

“You’re a fucking champ ,” she praised when she was done. “Who is tagging in? She wore me out.”

“I’m in,” Taylor said. “Cheese and I want to talk.” His hard gaze met mine. “You mind?”

“Part of me wants to tell you no because I don’t feel like I’m able to,” I admitted, moving closer to Emma as I did.

Taylor’s eyes flashed shock… And a bit of hurt. “You can absolutely tell me no, Bevin. On anything.” He frowned. “No, not anything that would risk your life. But anything else.”

Emma patted my shoulder. “You don’t speak Taylor yet. His attitude isn’t dismissive. He just knows you’re nice and taking a lap of your run to help Cheese—you’d do it in a heartbeat. So it was kind of a given, not him being mean.”

“What she said,” he agreed.

“Okay, fine, but I have some things too,” I countered, glad when Cheese snorted.

“Can I be invited to the other familiar parties?” Cheese asked me once we started. “I heard the others saying that they had fun spending the day here instead of just being lazy at home. It sounds really nice. I mean the Reids are great, but they’re always busy. And there used to be more familiars to talk with, but now their people are all coming back and it gets boring.”

“I’m fine with it if Taylor is,” I told him. “There are rules and—Bubba tends to be the boss for me. Or Woodchuck since she lives here all of the time and has for years. So as long as you’re fine with listening to a ferret or a girl then I’m okay with it. We brought in the chickens now and you can have one. I think you can as a serval.”

“He can,” Taylor interjected. “He might share it though since they normally eat smaller birds.”

“Fair, but we try not to have animals the familiars can hunt that are animals that can be familiars. Or that’s the plan going forward. We might need to—we had bunnies brought in, but there are rabbit familiars, so—it gets tricky. We don’t want any accidents. I think we’re going to have to make specific zones on the property if we’re going to keep having so many guests.”

“Smart. That would be my suggestion as well.”

We talked about that for a while and even the areas he would recommend specifically. We definitely needed more deer, but we also were going to have that huge amount of land soon. The sales contract was finally signed and we were waiting for the closing with the cleared title and details that made my head hurt.

“I’m going to start recruiting at the colleges like the other security firms,” Taylor told me. “Now that we’re going to keep your contract forever and be your people basically. I talked to Tracey about having housing on this land so we could offer that to—talking to Winter opened my eyes. Those with large familiars really are in a tenuous position.”

“One the top-tier families exploit, so you’ll go right up against them,” I warned. “And more than we knew.” I told him what I learned from Winter about Hughes and his right hand.

“That’s a useful card to play later, so let’s keep it in our back pocket,” he muttered.

“My thoughts exactly,” I agreed. I decided to ask what I wanted to before we got to his stuff with Cheese.

Taylor told me what Emma said basically and time was the only way to settle with killing someone. He didn’t tell me the specifics about his first time but did say there wasn’t anything helpful to me talking about something so cursed.

So clearly he carried it, but he left it in the past, and it didn’t seem to haunt him. That was something I would gladly work towards.

Gladly.

I spent the last two miles interpreting for them and was glad that things seemed to be going better for them. But then I had to take a break when my period started and I felt what all women do—we knew that feeling.

Great.

Well, at least I could take a hot soak after I finished my run now.