Chapter 69: Truth Or Lie
Augi Pov
Turns out while my dumbass self was having the time of my life, my pack was burning to ash. By the time I got back from Astrid’s party, it was already eight in the morning, and Walter was gone. Keion even though he was pissed as hell at me, filled me in on everything.
Apparently, Torin accused Oril of something atrocious and went as far as to demote him from being his second. After the fight, Walter left, saying he needed space, and went back to his parents’ house. Kei thinks it’s because of the news that Lorali is fated to Torin. That was a shock to me too, why would Torin hide something like that from us? And why didn’t Lorali tell anyone?
"What are we going to do to get Walter back? He’s been gone for a week," Kei sighs, sprawled out on the couch, his hand lazily flicking through channels with the remote.
It’s late afternoon, and we’ve been sitting here for hours. We originally came down to get something to eat but discovered there wasn’t a morsel of food in the house. Apparently no one decided to go grocery shopping. So we settled for ordering takeout. It would have been here by now if Kei didn’t insist on ordering from a restaurant halfway across the city.
"Where’s Oril? Haven’t seen him all morning," I ask, scanning the quiet house. The only people I think are here are Kei, me, and Lorali.
"He’s at his studio. He said he wants to be alone for a while," Kei groans, stretching his neck before tossing the remote aside, giving up on finding anything worth watching.
We sit there in silence, half‑concentrating on a fishing show Kei abandoned us on, when the front door swings open. Both of us look up, expecting the delivery guy, who apparently doesn’t knock, but instead, it’s Lorali, holding a takeaway bag.
She rushes in, her hair damp, droplets clinging to her cheeks and her tracksuit clinging awkwardly to her casted arm. She looks startled, almost guilty, as if she didn’t expect to see us.
"Oh, you guys are here. I thought you were out," she says, her voice accompanied by nervous laughter as she pushes the door shut behind her.
"Where were you? And why are you wet?" Kei asks, his brows furrowed.
Lorali laughs again, too quickly. "I went for a walk, and the sprinklers were on."
She doesn’t give us time to question further. "Anyways, someone ordered food. I’m guessing it’s you." She drops the takeaway bag into Kei’s lap and bolts for the stairs. "Enjoy!" she shouts, her voice fading as she disappears into the distance.
"That was odd," I mutter, my gaze lingering on the staircase.
Kei nods, sitting up straighter, his eyes narrowing as he holds the bag. "The weirdness of this pack must be getting to her... or something."
Torin Pov
The last time I was in this house, it ended in a fight. I didn’t want to be back this soon, but I have no choice. There is only one person in this world who can tell me the truth about Lorali and Oril, and that is my mother, the woman who caused all of this.
"I cooked all your favorite meals," she sings, her voice light, almost unnervingly cheerful. She looks radiant and too happy to see me.
We haven’t spoken since that night, and now she greets me as though nothing happened. She lifts the lid off one of the porcelain dishes spread across the long dining table. "I tried a new black rice recipe. I really hope you like it." The aroma of the rice hit me hard. Did she really cook this? Doesn’t smell like anything she’s ever cooked.
I shake my head, sighing, my patience already thin. "Mother, the food can wait. I want to know if Oril, my second, told you to whip Lorali to get her to leave." I snap straight to the point and her smile falters instantly as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat opposite me, her hands twitching against the tablecloth. The sight gives me flashbacks to when I was a boy, sitting under her gaze, waiting for judgment because my report card was unsatisfactory. Funny how time changes things, now she is the one under scrutiny.
"Mother, I asked you a question. I would appreciate it if you answered honestly."
"Yes," she says finally, her voice trembling. "It was Oril who asked me to whip that Alma omega. He was just trying to get her to leave sooner. His only concern was for her to finally have enough so she’d leave, and her suffering would end."
"Mother..." I groan, disappointment heavy in my chest. I can’t believe this. Lorali wasn’t lying. Oril was involved and so was my mother. "Do you have any idea what you two have done?" I bury my face in my hands, ashamed to be related to the woman who carried out the whippings. Out of all the mothers in the world, why did I have to get this one?
"I’m sorry, Torin. I was just..." She stumbles, searching for a reason she can’t even articulate.
"First of all, you shouldn’t be apologizing to me," I say, pulling my face from my palms, my voice sharp. "And if you are truly sorry, you will tell me why you hate Alma’s omegas so much."
Her lips curve downward, her hands trembling in her lap. "I can’t tell you that," she mumbles, barely loud enough to hear. "Of course you can’t," I scoff, followed by a cold chuckle. "Never once have you told me anything about yourself. I know Cleovera more than I know you."
She stays silent, her eyes fixed on the table, her shoulders hunched as if the weight of her secrets is crushing her.
"You know, I really hope you’re telling the truth about Oril. Because if you’re not, you’re going to ruin another person’s life." I rise from my chair, my patience gone. "This honestly should have been a phone call, so that I wouldn’t have to look at you."
"Torin, I’m sorry. If there’s something I could do to make things right, I would," she cries, her voice breaking, tears spilling down her cheeks.
I roll my eyes. Not the first time she’s cried when things didn’t go her way. "If you want to make things right, I suggest you go ahead and die. Then the world will be a much happier place."
I don’t wait for her reply. I walk out of the suffocating dining room, my footsteps echoing through the vast, empty halls of the manor. The walls feel like they’re closing in, heavy with memories I don’t want.
Thankfully, none of my fathers are home today. I’m not in the mood to be lectured or ordered around. My mother has confirmed my worst doubts, and I still have to deal with the Arabella situation. My day couldn’t possibly get any worse.
I go down the flight of stairs from the main doors and step into the car. The drive back home isn’t long, mostly because I’m speeding, within the limit, of course, just so I can get back to Lorali.
When I open the door to the penthouse, I’m greeted by darkness with the only light spilling in from the moon through the tall windows. It’s late; everyone must be asleep.
I head upstairs to my room, and the moment I push the door open, I’m met with the warm scent of vanilla.
Lorali.
She’s huddled in blankets with only her head peeking out, fast asleep. The sight makes my heart ache. Knowing my mother and Oril are responsible for her pain twists the knife deeper in my heart.
I won’t even be able to avenge her properly. I shrug off my jacket, feeling as though it’s a chain binding me, and place it on the edge of the bed.
I want to reach out, to hold her cheek, but I stop myself. I don’t want to wake her. Instead, I move away, heading into the bathroom. Stripping down, I step into the shower, letting the cold water pour over me, washing away the tension clinging to my skin.
That’s when I hear it, the sharp ping of a notification coming from my jacket on the bed. My phone. Whoever is messaging me at this hour can wait.
I finish my shower after thirty minutes, the water leaving me chilled but calmer. Fifteen more minutes pass as I dress into my sleepwear. Only then do I check my phone.
"Seriously? A coupon?" I mutter, squinting at the bright screen. An unknown number has sent me a discount for chicken. Weird. I block the number immediately, turn off my phone, and settle onto my floor blanket, staring up at the ceiling until sleep drags me under.
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3:00 a.m.
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My eyes snap open as I feel a vibration under my pillow. My phone is ringing. Rage sparks instantly, I’m going to kill the bastard who has the gall to call me this early. I pull the phone out, squinting at the caller ID. Father 3rd.
Shit. I quickly clear my throat and answer. "H—" Before I can even greet him, his panicked voice cuts through the line. "Your mother was in an accident. She needs blood. Your blood." I blink into the darkness, my mind struggling to process the words. "WHAT?!"