Page 145 of Nyx

I know the value of the promise. I know I'm sitting here uninjured because of him and Cerberus, but the words still feel hollow and empty.

It has nothing to do with him or his ability, and everything to do with Graham and just how determined he is to get to me.

He'll stop at nothing to seek revenge, and the only way I see this ending is with me six feet under.

I shake my head, rejecting his words, knowing better than he does just how bad things are going to get.

"I have a meeting," he says, now crouched in front of me. "It won't take long."

"Please don't leave," I say, unconcerned in this moment about how weak that request makes me.

"I'm not leaving you. I'm here," he vows. "I'll be just in the other room."

"Okay," I relent, the part of me that never wants to be a bother to anyone taking over.

"If you need anything, anyone here can help you. Don't be afraid to ask."

I nod, my eyes roaming over everyone in the room.

"I'll be just a little while," he says as he stands. "Stay in the clubhouse."

I almost scoff and tell him that I may never leave again, but my mouth fails to work.

He squeezes my hand, the gentle pressure calming me some, but the fear ramps right back up as I watch him walk away.

The people milling around and chatting with each other seem almost normal for them despite the rush to leave the park.

I watch as Gigi, Kincaid's daughter, who was introduced to me earlier, crouches down to speak to her oldest daughter, Amelia.

This woman has five kids with her husband, Hound, and from what I saw of her interactions with them at the park, she's an incredible mom despite how overwhelming just one child can be.

"It was getting so hot," Gigi says to the little girl when asked why they had to leave before they got cotton candy. "We thought that the pool would cool us off."

The little girl, looking around Dean's age, bounces up and down, her excitement evident that there's a chance they could play in the pool.

"We just have to wait for Daddy's meeting to be done," Gigi tells the little girl before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Amelia runs off with a squeal toward a group of kids to spread the good news.

They seem so happy and understanding even though their plans have changed. I don't doubt that they have the potential to have meltdowns, but it speaks to very good parenting that they can shift their schedule so easily and be happy with what they're getting despite what they may feel like they've lost.

I watch as Emmalyn leaves the kitchen area and steps out into the open area of the living room. Her eyes scan the room, landing on the kids first before moving on. She walks toward Gigi, a soft smile on her face, and it saddens me to see the love in her eyes. Not for what Gigi has, but the realization that I can't recall a single time my own mother looked at me with such devotion.

I watch as Emmalyn wraps her daughter in a hug, pressing a tiny kiss to her forehead, the same way Gigi just did to Amelia. I'm watching generations of love and acceptance, and it's so powerful to witness.

My tears are renewed, but in a different way.

Gigi takes a step back, a wry look on her face.

"I think we're going to have to get a cotton candy machine," Gigi says to her mom.

Emmalyn laughs as she shakes her head, but the woman doesn't openly reject the idea or tell Gigi that she's spoiling her kids.

Gigi walks toward the group of kids who are struggling to get some games off one of the shelves in the corner, and Emmalyn directs her attention at me.

I sit a little straighter, feeling as if this woman is, on some level, my boss, and I have to be strong and unaffected by the day's events in her presence.

I swipe at the tears on my face as she gives me a soft, sad smile. It doesn't feel like pity, but rather it holds a sense of understanding. I know from the group we had that Emmalyn was in some way a survivor of domestic violence, but I don't know the details of her story.