CHAPTER 3
1180 Words
CHAPTER 3: Dakota To The Rescue
Odessa’s POV
Absolute decorum settles over the room heavily, and for several tense minutes, none of us dares to speak. It feels as though the moon goddess herself has struck us mute, freezing our voices in our throats.
My father isn’t immune either. He just stands there, staring at us as if we were thieves caught red-handed in his store.
His gaze is sharp and unyielding, and it pins me to the floor with no argument. Heat crawls up my neck, and I have to force myself to look elsewhere.
For crying out loud, we’re his daughters. Couldn’t he cut us a little slack?
The silence stretches as taut as a bowstring.
He’s waiting to give us room to draw first blood, and it feels less like a family meeting and more like a breathing competition. Every inhale is shallow, and every exhale is like a risk.
Blame it on Father’s intimidating presence. He doesn’t need to speak to apply pressure; it radiates from him in waves, pressing against my skin and making me wish I could disappear into the floorboards.
I pray I won’t disgrace myself and pee in my pants.
Courage deserts me, leaving only a hollow mixture of fear, emptiness and confusion.
My confidence has evaporated, and I can barely remember what it ever felt like.
I should have listened to Dakota when she warned me about the war, but my stubbornness, one of many lapses, has led us here.
I can’t keep trusting my reckless thoughts; they’ve misled me again, and now the price may be too high.
I’ve implicated her for nothing, poor Dakota. She must hate me for putting her in this position.
She doesn’t deserve any of it; she’s innocent, and her only crime was trying to help me.
Will Father ever believe that?
“Start talking now.” His voice slices through the quiet, calm, sternly. “Your time is up. You should be aware of my rage from this silent treatment.”
Finally, someone speaks, and the silence that nearly lasted a century is broken, but the air doesn’t feel any lighter.
I turn to Dakota instinctively, searching her face for a solution. This time, I will stick to her plan; mine has already landed us in a pit.
She winks at me with the smallest flicker of reassurance.
I understand the assignment immediately: don’t rush to speak, let her take control.
Her confidence is steady and calm, and I know why. She’s worried I’ll ruin everything with my nerves, that I’ll crumble under Father’s scrutiny and confess to things I shouldn’t and she isn’t wrong; with the intensity of his gaze, I might betray myself just to escape the torture.
Dakota finally steps forward.
“Odessa and I took a stroll around the garden to enjoy the cool breeze,” she says with her voice smooth and measured. “That’s all that happened, Father.”
Exactly as I expected, her tone carries quiet authority. I would never have been able to deliver that line without stammering.
She makes it sound natural and almost casual, as though nothing could be more innocent.
I, on the other hand, feel like a statue about to c***k.
Father chuckles, low and skeptical, and the sound curdles my stomach.
This is getting worse. It was supposed to be a smooth ride with Carlos and Jena, but Bruno had to ruin everything by running to Father with tales.
“The garden?” Father’s brow arches. “That’s not possible. Why do I feel you’re lying to me? You rarely visit the garden, so what changed?” His voice drips with suspicion.
He scoffs, and I flinch.
I reacted the same way when Dakota first suggested the garden. No wonder he doubts our excuse is thin and fragile.
Still, she doesn’t falter.
“I’m not lying, Father. This is the undiluted truth,” she says with her tone sharpening.
“If you’re still in doubt, ask around. Everyone saw us. I’m your daughter, you know my honesty isn’t to be questioned.”
I swallow hard with anxiety, tightening my chest. Her words are bold, perhaps too bold, and a single wrong note could ignite his temper.
Then Dakota twists the story further.
“I went to fetch Odessa, remember you asked me to speak to her?”
My eyes widened with a shocking revelation. She’s just shot herself in the leg without realizing it. She lied to me earlier, claiming Father hadn’t sent her.
My instincts had whispered otherwise, and I should have trusted them.
Still, one mystery remains: she agreed to find me a private tutor even though she knew Father wouldn’t approve and that’s beyond brave, it’s reckless.
“I see.” Father exhales heavily, but is that a sigh of defeat? I pray it is.
Dakota stands firm and unshaken. She’s always been like this, unbending in the face of storms.
Meanwhile, I’m biting my lip raw, while inside, I send a desperate plea to the moon goddess for intervention.
My thoughts are a mess, and I can barely breathe.
All I want is for Father to look anywhere but at me, cause one stare is enough to melt me like ice under a torch.
Damn. He catches me fidgeting, and I see the flicker of understanding in his eyes. He knows I’m hiding something.
“Leave us alone,” he orders Dakota with his voice cool as steel. “I need a moment with your sister.”
The pressure doubles, crushing me and once again, the moon goddess forsakes me, abandoning me at the moment I need her most.
“It’s fine. She can stay,” I blurt with panic, sharpening my words. I can’t face Father alone, not now, and Dakota’s presence is the only thing keeping me from falling apart. Her calm is an anchor, keeping me steady in this storm.
“Don’t worry, sis. You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.” Dakota’s reassurance is gentle, but it doesn’t soothe me. I don’t feel strong; I feel like a cornered rabbit.
She turns anyway, slipping out despite my protests, and her absence leaves an aching void.
All I wanted was a few more minutes of her presence, a buffer against Father’s wrath.
Now I’m alone, left to stare into the face of my biggest test yet.
If I can survive this, I can survive anything, even an immortal.
Father gestures toward the sofa.
“Be seated,” he says with his voice quiet but laced with command.
He remains seated while I stand frozen.
“Ode?” His tone softens just slightly as he motions again.
My body obeys before my mind can catch up. I sit, carefully, like one approaching a wild beast. The last thing I want is to spark his anger.
Sometimes I forget he’s my father at all, and in moments like this, he’s less a parent and more the pure embodiment of Alpha.
If his presence can rattle me, his own daughter, I can’t imagine what it does to outsiders….
- Writer
