Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
I get up, throwing my arms around them both and enveloping them in a silent hug. We don't need words, not for this. It's clear we mean a lot to one another, and nothing's going to change that now.
"But if that prick hurts you, I'm still going to kill him," Nox throws in with a glare, making me laugh nervously. "You know. Metaphorically."
I nod just as we hear a car pulling up outside.
"Raphael," I mutter apologetically. "He called. He wants me to move in."
They nod and Dove says, "We think that's a good idea. He will help you heal; we trust him."
They walk me downstairs with my haphazardly packed luggage. I say goodbye to the boys while Dove and Nox greet Raphael outside before I join them on the lawn.
Raphael stands by his car, tall, dark, and handsome as ever. Streaks of grey run through his hair and I have no doubt I'm responsible for some of them. But in the end, none of it matters, because as long as we're together, everything's going to be okay.
I run up to him and throw my arms around him, leaning in to nuzzle against his neck.
"Daddy," I whisper softly, quiet enough for just us to hear.
He embraces me tightly, his lips lingering against the shell of my ear as he says, "Daddy's here now, trouble. No one's ever going to hurt you again."
And I believe him.
Epilogue
Theo
I sit in the library of my New York home when the butterfly flies in.
It's unlike anything I've ever seen, purple, with bright translucent wings that glitter in the sunlight.
Waiting for my call to be answered, I absentmindedly watch the butterfly land on my desk. It seems curious, but when I reach out for it, it grows frightened and attempts to flutter away. But I'm too fast for it. My fingers grab onto its wings and I bring it closer to my face, watching it struggle impassively.
It's afraid of me. Just like everybody else.
I crush its frail body between my fingers, letting the crumpled remains fall to my desk. It's lifeless body quickly loses its struggle against the pain I've inflicted on it, and it stops struggling, the vitality it had only seconds ago leaving its corpse.
Cursing out loud, I end the call. Willa Canterbury-Miller has royally fucked me over.
For the past few months, I've gotten nothing but complaints from the apartment owners in the building where my place is. I gave her my bachelor pad in hopes of reconnecting with my father's family, but Willa let me down. I shouldn't have expected anything else, she's Parker's daughter after all. But still, this pisses me off, especially now that she didn't even pick up her phone.
I have to go there and check what's happening. It's been a year that she's been living in my place and I haven't seen her once apart from that time she came to beg me for a place to stay.
Groaning, I pull myself up from my chair, pain shooting up my leg like it always does. I run my fingers through my hair and button up my suit. Exiting the office, I take the stairs slowly, grimacing when the pain reminds me of what I'll never be able to forget – that I'm nothing but a monster.
Outside, my driver jumps to attention when he sees me coming out.
"We leaving the house today, sir?" he asks, barely concealing the surprise.
I don't leave this place. I've confined myself to the study and library and if I can help it, I never leave the house. But now, because of fucking Willa, I have to face the outside world. She'll pay for that.
"Where to?" my driver asks after helping me get in the car. I hate how fucking useless I am because of this pain.
"My old apartment in Manhattan," I mutter, and he nods, getting behind the wheel.
While we drive through the city, I stare through the windows at the ever-changing landscape of my favorite place on earth – and at the same time, my most hated location.
I traveled when I was a kid, but ever since the accident, I've condemned myself to the brownstone building where I'm safe and undisturbed. It's easier that way. Easier to avoid shitty people whom I'd rather kill than have a conversation with. My blood boils at the thought of leaving. This is all Willa’s fault.
The ride takes ages, reminding me once more just how shitty the traffic is in this place. Once we finally arrive, Woodworth helps me out of the car and I wince as I walk into the building.
"Mr. Wildfox Miller!" The doorman scurries toward me with a nervous smile. "We had no idea you were coming, I'm –"
"Don't worry about it," I grunt in response, getting in the elevator without meeting his eyes. "This won't take long."