When He's an Alpha (The Olympus Pride 2)

She appreciated the “out” he’d offered, but she’d rather tell the full story now than revisit it later. “I wish it had happened that way. But it was so much worse than that. My dad, Manuel, was so furious and devastated in his grief, he attacked Yasiel the moment Rolando stopped breathing. Then it was a huge pile-on—enforcers jumped in to protect Yasiel, my relatives jumped in to defend my father and avenge my brother. My mother stayed with me, crying and yelling warnings at Manuel to duck or watch his back or move aside.

“It was just … chaos. Pure chaos.” The air had stank of blood, anger, fear, and pain. She’d never forget the screams. Never. “Yasiel and his enforcers tore my father and extended family members apart right there in front of everyone.”

Tate’s eyes fell closed for a brief moment. He tugged her closer and slid his hand around to cup her face. “Baby,” he said simply, the word laced with so much warmth and compassion it almost brought tears to her eyes.

Ignoring the ache in her throat, she went on, “Me and my mother were branded traitors and shunned. She tried to hold on, but she couldn’t. I don’t think it was just the breaking of the true-mate bond that ate at her strength. I think she was just so heartbroken. She died a few weeks later. Then I was alone.”

He muttered a low curse. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

His jaw hardened. “You were on your own at the age of twelve?”

She nodded and took a steadying swig of her beer. “I drifted for a while before ending up here. I was living on the streets when one of the regulars from the center found me and brought me to Corbin.”

“Is your old Alpha still alive?”

“Probably. I considered going back there many times to kill him. But my devil was a mess after what he did. It was hard to get her to move forward. I worried that if I went back there even to avenge my family, it would undo all the work I’d done to help her heal.” She inhaled deeply. “So now you know it all.”

Rage beat in Tate’s blood, but he kept it buried. She didn’t need to be dealing with his anger right then. This wasn’t about him. It was about her. Careful not to jostle her, he leaned forward and planted his beer on the coffee table. He did the same with her own bottle and then sank back into the sofa, keeping her flush against him, tucking her face against his throat.

Neither spoke a word as he skimmed his hands over her back, shoulders, and nape—soothing, comforting, gentling, and wishing he could absorb her grief.

It wrecked him to think she’d lost her entire family. Wrecked him that her brother, father, and several other relatives were slaughtered right in front of her. Worse, she’d not only then been disowned by the very people who should have protected her, she’d had to watch her mother die … leaving her all alone.

Alone. At age twelve.

Tate tightened his grip on her nape. “I don’t even know what to say.” What did you say to someone who’d lost their entire family, especially in such a tragic fashion?

“You don’t need to say anything. It happened a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make your grief any less important. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, but I didn’t see my mother suffer the way you did your father and brother.”

“That doesn’t make it easier for you that you lost your mom than it does for me.” Havana stroked his chest. “I’m sorry she was taken from you.”

Tate pressed his mouth to her hair. “I watched my dad deteriorate after her death, so I do know how hard it was for you to watch your mother weaken.”

“It takes a strong person to hold on after they lose their mate.” Havana lifted her head. “My mother … she loved me. She didn’t want me to be alone. But she wasn’t strong. I don’t blame her for not holding on. I don’t blame the bond for how it weakened her, either. It just … it is what it is. And even if they’d been human, I don’t think she’d have survived the loss of my dad. They were so wrapped up in each other, so completely woven into each other’s being, that I honestly felt left out sometimes. Rolando once said the same thing.”

“My parents were close and tight,” said Tate, sliding his hand over her hair. “But not to the point that they made more time for themselves as a couple than they did for me and my siblings.” And he really didn’t like that her parents were very much the opposite, but he didn’t say that. They were gone now. Criticizing their parenting would only upset her.