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Castro’s parents came over to our house unexpectedly one evening for a visit. They talked with my parents about their concern for Castro. They questioned why he was the way he was, and they admitted to being afraid of him. I couldn’t remember the details of that conversation but knew his parents had laid out multiple examples of Castro doing inappropriate things or saying hurtful words to them.
By the time Castro reached the age of twelve, most of the pack was afraid of him. They avoided him like the plague because he was unpredictable and couldn’t be controlled.
Not me, though. He went out of his way to be nice to me, doting on me, bringing me gifts. I remembered him being mean to the other kids. He would beat up the boys who got too close to me, and be hateful to the girls who played with me.
Before I knew it, I didn’t have any friends except Castro. I was so young that I didn’t think much about it. After all, when I was with him, we had a great time. He always made me laugh and played with my dolls, making funny voices, and creating silly scenarios that left me in stitches.
His bullying became too much for the families of Heather Falls, though. Within a year, they left out of fear for their children’s lives.
It was confusing for me because even though I heard what people said about Castro, his actions toward me didn’t match up.
One night, I’d snuck out of bed and stood at the top of the staircase, clutching my stuffed bear to my chest while I eavesdropped on my parents. My father told Castro’s parents that they no longer felt Castro was suitable to be my future mate, even though we had been betrothed since the day I’d been born. His parents sobbed and pleaded with my parents, promising them that Castro could change and that they could crack down on his behavior and whip him into shape. But my parents stood firm in their decision to protect me from the boy they believed to be a crazed, erratic, unstable shifter.
Castro’s parents finally admitted that they understood and that they would have done the same thing in my parents’ position.
My parents loved me above all else, and they only cared about keeping me safe. They felt Castro was a danger to their daughter—their princess.
After a long discussion, my father asked Castro’s parents to leave the pack and take Castro far away from me. My mother apologized profusely and held Castro’s mother as she sobbed. They had no choice, though. My father was the alpha, and his final decision was law. They couldn’t stay in Heather Falls, and they could never come back.
My memories of the night of the attack had been distorted, and I suddenly realized how the brain had a funny way of protecting a person from the trauma they’d experienced. Now I could see everything clearly, and it had me shaking down to my bones.
I tried to steady my breathing, but my teeth chattered as the truth came rushing back to me.
Ty held me close, his strong arms only bringing me a minuscule amount of comfort. There was a war raging in my mind as the past and present collided, leaving me to reconcile fact from fiction, true memories from reimagined scenarios.
“What’s wrong, Liza? Talk to me,” Ty asked.
I stared at the monster who stood only a few feet from me. “Ty, your father might have killed my pack, but he didn’t kill my parents because they were already dead when he got to them. Weren’t they, Castro?”
Ty stiffened and held me at arm’s length. “What are you talking about?”
Castro’s eyes narrowed on me. He no longer tried to hide his true personality, and his kind smile contorted into a sly grin that made the hair on the back of my neck rise.
Fear consumed me. Castro was a sick bastard, and there was no telling what he’d do to get what he wanted. In this case, he wanted me.
I clutched my chest, gasping for air. Another panic attack tried to pull me under. I closed my eyes, attempting to focus on my breathing and not allow Castro to dictate my emotions.
My true memories came to the surface, my wolf whining and whimpering. She tried to comfort me and calm down my racing heartbeat, but it was no use. It was as if I had just lost my parents all over again, and the grief threatened to consume me.
Ty squeezed my shoulders gently, pulling me out of my head. “Liza, what are you talking about? Please. Talk to me.”
My eyes burned with tears, though I wasn’t sure how I had enough water left in my body to cry anymore. “Castro came to my house covered in blood. He said his parents were dead. That bad men had gotten into the house and killed them. We could hear the noise coming from the other houses and smell the smoke in the air.”
I took a breath, trying to process the memories before I spoke them out loud. Thinking of them was one thing, but putting them out into the universe was another. I had to be sure that I was getting it right.
“My dad cursed and told Castro not to worry. He said our family would protect him, keep him safe. He told us to stay put while he handled the situation. I hid behind my mother’s legs while my father made a phone call. He said that the pack was being attacked and instructed his army to make a move immediately.” I looked up at Castro and forced myself to recall the worst moment of my life. “I hadn’t seen it until it was too late. Castro had a gun. My mother had turned the corner, her eyes wide with panic. She asked my father what they needed to do because they had to keep me, their princess, safe... no matter the costs.”
I stopped talking, closing my eyes as I remembered that moment, the scene playing out in front of me like a movie.
“You all need to go to the boats. Wait for me there,” Dad instructed us from across the room, his face flushed with apprehension. “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry.”
But we wouldn’t make it to the boats. Not because the bad men had arrived at our front door, but because Castro had shot both of my parents.
I looked down and saw Mom on the floor, trying to cover her stomach wound as she bled out. “Run, Aliza!”
She wanted me to run from Castro, to run for my life. So, I did.
I ran. My heart broke, and fear consumed me, but I ran as fast as my short legs would carry me. Branches smacked me in the face as my tears distorted my vision. The screams of our dying pack members rang in my ears, and all I could see were my parents dying on the floor of our living room in the home that used to bring me such a sense of security.
