I dropped my tired body into a chair. My mind felt like a crowded elevator, unable to squeeze in one more piece of information. The weight of Rourke’s absence pushed down on me, crushing something vital inside. I craved him in a way I couldn’t adequately express. In a way that tested the boundaries of attachment. I had enough to worry about. There was no extra space for fantastical stories about my true freakish identity.
But instead of a tirade, I said nothing and waited for my father to continue. I needed to hear his side.
“When the Cain Myth was first delivered to the Compound, there was an uprising,” he began. “You have to understand the safety concerns, Jessica, if nothing else. You were only an infant. I quelled it quickly and with extreme force. I made a vow to protect you. I vowed it to myself and to your mother, rest her soul.” My mother had died in childbirth. Delivering one wolf was tricky, but twins was impossible. I’d been told it’d been amazing she’d been able to carry my brother and me to term. Annie McClain had been a fighter until the end. “To be clear, I never believed for a single second the Cain Myth to be true. You were my daughter, my own flesh and blood. But convincing the wolves had been much harder than I’d ever expected. Fear overwhelmed any rational explanations when it came to you. As you grew up, you were a constant reminder to them that something was wrong.” He turned to me. “I desperately wanted you to stay human. I knew if you ever shifted in to a wolf, it would be something that would turn the supernatural community inside out. You’re my daughter and all I’ve ever wanted was to protect you.”
I lifted my head and stared at my father. Our irises each glowed a matching violet, bonding us like nothing else in this world could. This was the parent who had raised me, who’d given me unconditional love. I couldn’t argue with that. “I understand what you’re saying,” I said slowly, feeling more resolved. “I know all the decisions you made were made out of love and all of those events have led us here. But if you believe the Prophecy to be true, it has to be founded in something concrete. I need to understand as much as I can before I leave and I only have a little time left.” I refrained from looking at my nonexistent watch for a second time.
He exhaled and stared at the ground for a moment. When he lifted his head I caught a glimpse of his true age. It lingered in the creases of his tired eyes, but it was gone in the next blink. “When you shifted the first time, I knew something was different. When your wolf signaled your change, alerting us with her beacon, it was a call made by your wolf to aid you. That has never happened in over five centuries of my rule. A normal wolf alert is primal and wild. Yours was not. It carried intelligence. In our oldest writings they talk of our Lycan ancestors being able to cohabitate with their wolves peacefully, that each side cooperated with the other to become one perfect supernatural—strong, powerful, and unparalleled. Then you blocked me repeatedly and could hold your suspended form, something no other wolf can do. It became very clear you were something else. After reading the lines of the Prophecy and remembering the hearth tales about the Y Gwir Lycae I’d heard as a lad, I realized it fit. You’re more than just one of our ancestors, Jessica. I can feel it in my bones and see it with my own eyes. There’s a reason a female was born to us. Fate does not get such things wrong.”
Emotion rushed to the surface.
The rawness of it was new. The texture of it tugged against my skin, making me feel itchy. My wolf started to pace in my mind. This was the most honest exchange I’d ever shared with my father. For the first time, we were engaged in a conversation as two adults. He wasn’t trying to protect me. It was just the two of us here in this room, almost as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
My father was so sure of what he was saying. His certainty poured through our connection, but it was a lot to wrap my brain around. “The Prophecy still doesn’t make any sense to me,” I finally said, “because I still feel like… me. I don’t feel overly powerful or qualified to dole out justice to anyone, much less to the supernatural race. I feel like myself, only now with a cranky wolf in my head.” To accent my point, my wolf snapped her jaws. I know I’m physically different, but I still feel normal. I haven’t suddenly forgotten who I am or where I came from. It doesn’t work that way.
“Jessica, I know this is a shock. It’s shocking to me, and I’m an Alpha werewolf. Who and what you are is unprecedented. But before we decide how to move forward, we need to gather more information, as I’ve said before. In light of this discovery, I’m elated you’re leaving town. That’s exactly where I want you—out of sight with adequate protection.”