Page 3 of Kingdom of Chaos (Creatures of Chaos #2)

Two

I’m throwing extra clothes into a duffel when my mom finds me.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I freeze with a T-shirt clenched in my hand.

When I look over, she’s standing in the doorway in a pair of jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweater, scanning the mess I’ve made in my room and the bag I’m packing.

Her long red hair is piled into a messy bun on top of her head, and from the smudge of dirt on her cheekbone I can tell she’s been cleaning the dusty corners of the store downstairs. Her gaze is full of worried confusion.

I was hoping to make it out of the house without having to explain where I was going.

We haven’t talked since this morning, and then I snuck out of the apartment to look for Talon. Between what the police told them and the few details I’ve shared, they only know the bare minimum about Chaos and everything that’s happened over the last couple of months.

They know I entered and competed in Chaos, and that there was a magical gag that prevented me from telling them about it.

They figured out on their own that I injured my hand during one of the trials, but that’s pretty much it.

I haven’t told them about Kerrim, or his claim that I’m a human.

They don’t know what happened to Becks, and they certainly don’t know that I’m planning to track down Talon and force him to help me get to the human world to look for Becks.

And I wasn’t going to tell them either.

It’s cowardly, but I had planned to sneak out and leave them a note explaining everything.

I was going to tell them about Becks and that I was going to find him.

About Kerrim and the claim that I’m human.

About everything. But now that my mom is standing in front of me, a frown on her face as she wrings her hands, I know this isn’t going to go the way I’d hoped.

Dropping the T-shirt into the open duffel, I straighten. “I’m going to find Becks.”

Compassion softens my mom’s features. “Oh, honey,” she says and moves into the room, reaching for me like she’s going to hug me, but I sidestep and she drops her arms. The hurt look that crosses her face spears me straight through the chest.

“You need to let the authorities look for Becks,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. “There’s nothing you can do to help him right now.”

I shake my head. My mom has no idea. No one is going to find Becks because they have no idea where to look. “I have to do this, Mom. You don’t understand.”

I go back to packing.

“Locklyn, stop.” My mom lays a hand over mine, staying my movements. “This isn’t the right way?—”

“What do you know about the right anything?” I snap, my voice sharp enough to make my mom take a step back in surprise. I instantly regret both my tone and my words, but before I can apologize, my dad appears.

“What’s going on in here?” he asks, his large frame filling my bedroom doorway. His dark eyes dart between my mom and me, quickly assessing the situation, his expression darkening when he sees the tears welling in her eyes.

My dad is normally a gentle guy, but not when it comes to his wife. I can already see him puffing up, ready to come to her defense.

I can’t take the tension and animosity between me and my parents anymore. It’s been building for longer than just last night. But ever since Kerrim dropped the bomb that I’m human, not a creature, a heaviness has settled in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Seeing the confusion and disappointment in my parents’ eyes breaks the dam I’d been holding back, and like a cork shooting from a bottle, the words burst from my mouth.

“Am I really your daughter?”

Both my mom and dad go still, their eyes widening. A buzzing sensation, like electricity running beneath my skin, prickles along my arms, and I rub them, trying to chase the feeling away.

My dad starts. “Locklyn, I’m not sure what you?—”

“I know,” I cut in.

“Know what?” he asks gently, stepping into the room, his presence filling the space.

“I know that I’m human.”

A beat passes. He glances at my mom, exchanging a look that’s not understanding—but confusion.

“Honey,” my mom says, reaching out to touch me before hesitating. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I look back and forth between them, and a rush of relief surges through me.

They don’t know what the word “human” means.

Just like I didn’t when Kerrim first said it.

And if they don’t know, maybe it’s not true.

Maybe I’m not human. And if that’s not true, then maybe what Kerrim said about them not being my biological parents isn’t true either.

I sit on the edge of the bed, staring blankly ahead. My mom takes a seat beside me and slips her hand into mine. My head is pounding, whether from smashing it against the cave wall or from the weight of everything I’ve been trying to sort through, I’m not sure.

I can’t make sense of this alone. So I open my mouth, and I tell them.

I tell them everything.

I tell them everything about Chaos, including the reason I entered it in the first place.

I tell them about Shadow Striker and Talon.

I explain the deal I made with Drake to free Becks from the dragon council’s control.

I walk them through every trial, reveal that Kerrim was the game master, and recount what happened in the ruins—with Becks, the portal, the other world.

Finally, I tell them what Kerrim said about me being human.

It pours out of me like a waterfall, unstoppable.

And when the last detail has slipped from my lips, I look to my parents, silently begging them to tell me that Kerrim was wrong, that it was just a fluke, an accident that a portal to the human world opened when I touched the dagger.

That I’m not this mysterious “ human ” he claimed I was, but truly their daughter in every sense of the word.

Because even though, deep down, I’ve always known I was different, the thought of not being theirs is too much to bear.

Silence blankets the room.

They let me speak without interruption, but now that I’ve spilled everything, every secret I’ve kept over the past two months, I think I might’ve broken them.

My mom’s hand feels cold in mine. Then I glance between her and my dad, and it’s clear there’s some silent communication happening between them.

Finally, my dad exhales a heavy sigh and scrubs a hand down his face. He looks at my mom and says, “It’s time, Zia.”

Her chin wobbles before she presses her lips together, resignation forming in the creases at the corners of her mouth and eyes. She shifts toward me.

I look into her bright green eyes, a sheen of tears gathering there. One glance tells me I’m not going to like whatever she’s about to say.

“You need to know that we love you,” she says gently, “and there is nothing, nothing , that could ever change that. You know that, right?”

I nod slowly, already dreading where this is going.

My dad steps forward and places a comforting hand on my mom’s shoulder, whether for her or for himself, I’m not sure. Maybe both.

“What your mom is trying to say,” he begins, “is that blood doesn’t make us family. And there’s no way we could love you any more than we do now, even if you were our own by birth.”

No.

I jump up, taking a few quick steps back until my butt bumps into my desk, stopping me. I shake my head, not wanting to hear any more.

“So he was telling the truth. You aren’t my parents,” I say, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. “I’m not your real daughter.”

My heart twists inside my chest, and tears spring to my eyes. Part of me knew it was true. I just didn’t want to believe it.

My mom starts shaking her head and pushes to her feet, stepping toward me. “No, Locklyn, that’s not true. You are our daughter. Our real daughter in every way that counts.”

“She’s right,” my dad adds, his voice steady. “We’ve raised you since you were an infant. We’ve never seen you as anything but ours. You are our daughter, and we love you more than any creatures ever could.”

“Then why didn’t you ever tell me?” I ask, looking at them through a veil of tears, one finally slipping down my cheek.

“Oh, honey,” my mom says as she pulls me into a tight hug. Even though I’m an inch taller than her, I feel like a small child in her embrace.

“Maybe we should have. But we didn’t want you to ever feel like you weren’t completely loved and cherished.”

The scent of roses and daylilies fills my nose. My mom’s natural scent. I always thought my auburn hair came from a mix of hers and my dad’s, but now I know it didn’t. It came from faceless creatures. Or rather, faceless humans.

I cling to her, feeling like she’s the only thing keeping me from shattering. I used to secretly hope I’d one day take after her and develop fae magic, or gain strength from my dad’s bear shifter powers. I dreamed of sharing those traits with them, of feeling more connected.

Now I know that day will never come.

It’s like I’ve lost something, even though I never really had it to begin with, and somehow, that feels worse.

My dad’s large hand lands on my back, rubbing slow, comforting circles. “We planned to tell you once your powers emerged,” he says, pausing to clear his throat. “But when your magic never manifested, we didn’t want you to feel even more different than we knew you already did.”

Tears fall, from me, from my mom, even from my dad. They stay silent, letting me process, letting me absorb this truth.

When my eyes finally feel dry and my chest a little lighter, I step back. My mom lets me go. Her face is blotchy, probably like mine, and even my dad’s eyes look a bit puffy. But despite everything, I feel somehow steadier.

Sometimes you have to fall apart before you can piece yourself back together.

“I love you guys,” I say softly. “I’m glad you’re my parents.”