Emory’s POV.
The room is quiet now. My father sits behind his desk, elbows propped and fingers interlaced as they support his chin. His face seems drawn, his shoulders heavy. His breathing sounds strained – almost as if the impact of what I have said here tonight is too much for him to bare.
I realize, for the first time as I watch him, how heavily the burden of our duty, our traditions weigh on him. How much he must carry on his own. I begin to see for the first time how much he must have sacrificed of himself – how high a price he pays every day in order to protect and honor that which the Goddess asks of him. The cross he bares. Something that no one else can truly understand. Something that he must carry alone, because he is alpha.
My heart aches for my father. Never before have I
