Alliance of Shadows, Book 5: LEIF

In the entire six years we were together, the only time he ever raised his hands to me was during our weekly sparring matches—intense clashes of skill and strategy that always ended the same way. Somewhere between the lunging strikes and dodged blows, our adrenaline would shift, turning fierce competition into heated, tangled limbs and breathless laughter. Those matches never truly had a winner—unless you counted the way we ended up pressed against the nearest wall, lost in each other. But this—this slap—was different. It wasn’t driven by malice, and I knew him too well to mistake it for anger. He had just shattered his own heart, and yet, he wasn’t done with me. Not by a long shot. And I was done hiding. For once, I wanted him to see me. Not just the version he thought he knew, but the truth. The horrors I had survived. The choices I had been forced to make when no good options existed. My gaze flickered toward the bag beside the dresser, its contents spilling out onto the floor in a chaotic mess—shirts twisted, pants crumpled, the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to the fabric he had ripped from my grasp in frustration. The sight of it struck me harder than any blow ever could. My knees buckled beneath me, the weight of realization crashing down. My heart splintered as I thought about the life I had so recklessly considered leaving behind. All because Seamus f*****g McDillard had knocked on my door. When did I become such a coward? How had I even entertained the thought of walking away? Walking away from my Mate. Walking away from my children. I never wanted him to learn about my past like this, but judging by the storm in his eyes, he had been waiting—aching—for my secrecy to end. I wanted to beg for his forgiveness, wanted to plead for understanding, but I knew his answer before the words even formed. He would forgive me in a heartbeat, no matter how undeserving I felt. Fine was no longer a word my mind would tolerate. It had lost all meaning long ago, disappearing alongside my ability to feel anything—until he came along. For years, my heart had been locked away, wrapped in iron, and buried beneath layers of carefully constructed walls. I had convinced myself no one would ever hold the key—but he had it all along. He always had it. And now, with a single phrase, he could destroy me. Could I trust my past—the darkest, ugliest pieces of me—in his hands? Would everything I had endured leave an irreversible stain on the man I cherished? Would it Taint his pure-hearted self? I wasn't sure I wanted the answers. The reasons to live were starting to stack up, blocking me from leaving this life behind for the unknown. Apologizing through his tears for something he swore up and down he would never do, he threw his arms around me. I was used to being treated like garbage. Used to being treated like I was nothing more than a body to please and pleasure others. What the hell had I gotten myself into? I was going to die the night my uncle locked me in Dreson's room. The implication had been in his father's words the first morning we woke up in bed together. There was never the option for me to believe that I had a Mate. Especially since I took after my Nordic father's side of the family and was born a Sorcerer rather than the Druid my parents wanted. He helped me to my feet and onto the bed. I didn't have the strength left to fight him, not that I would win. No, he was never abusive. He would never purposely hurt me, and I think that's why I got so comfortable with this life. The life he gave to me. I could say what I wanted, do what I wanted, and there were never any repercussions. Damn it. Why? Why was I stuck with such a calm, brilliant, patient, sexy-as-all-hell Mate when I was this broken, shattered shell of a man? Finding myself at his mercy now, I knew I had no other choice but to tell him the truth and take whatever he dished my way. Bringing up the kids, he reminded me that they were gone to his parents' place for the weekend. I breathed a little easier knowing they wouldn’t be here to see me break down. Trying to stall for as long as I could, I begged him not to contact my uncle. Uncle Harper knew everything I had told him, but there were things not even he was privy to. Dreson was starting to get antsy, and when that happened, he got pushy. He’d back me into a corner, demand answers, and I would eventually cave—to his pestering, to his worry over me. He fought to keep the cold edge of his displeasure from his voice, but when he threatened to call off our engagement, I knew it wasn’t just a threat. He was dead serious, and I had pushed him too far. If only Seamus hadn’t shown up when he did. If only my past had stayed buried, I could have lived peacefully with my new family and the adorable babies we’d adopted together. Together. The word resonated deep within my soul. Dre had never hidden anything from me. He was always straight up with everything I had ever asked of him. It was always me jumping to conclusions while he patiently observed, weighing each situation before seeking the best outcome. I suddenly felt like the rug had been ripped from under me, like I was free-falling into a massive black hole in the floor. He’d had enough—but would he really help me overcome it all, or were his words empty threats I would never be able to believe in? Would he still love me after finding out? Would he turn into a Tainted? Then again, against anyone who hurt those he cared deeply for, Dreson was a powerhouse of strength and knowledge. Someone who didn’t back down, becoming the Shield he was meant to be before his words delivered the Swords blow. Nodding, I swallowed the lump of dread that continued to build in my throat. "Fine, I'll tell ye everythin’, Dreson." His smile should have melted me, but I kept my heart on lockdown—just in case he changed his mind. Taking his hand in mine, I led him back down the stairs to the office. The weight of what I was about to reveal pressed against my chest, thick and suffocating. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever breathe easily again after this. Grabbing the folder of papers that Seamus had thrown my way when he arrived, I brought Dreson to the dining room and asked him to sit down. The chair scraped lightly against the floor as he did, the sound punctuating the silence that hung between us. "Why?" He pressed, his voice steady, but I could hear the impatience woven beneath it. I didn’t want to argue. I was hungry, flustered, exhausted—never a good mixture. "Please, Dre," I begged. "I need to start somewhere, and I think it best we start with this. It's not bullshit, either. Please, just promise me that you'll try to see things from my angle." Sitting down beside him, I waited for him to open the folder. While I waited, I nibbled my nails—part hunger, part nerves frayed to the very last thread. The off-white cover flipped open, and I watched his face flicker between so many emotions that I got dizzy trying to keep up. His expression shifted—confusion, anger, disbelief—until finally, he picked up a picture from the folder. His gorgeous dark blue eyes closed briefly as he held it up, as if he were bracing himself for whatever truth it carried. "This is you, isn't it?" He whispered. My lip trembled. "Aye, love." His brows furrowed, his grip tightening slightly on the edges of the photograph. "Something's wrong with this," he muttered. I swallowed, my throat tightening. "I don't understand what you mean." I was desperately trying not to start crying again. He didn’t answer right away. Another picture of me in a precarious position was held up, but this time, he didn’t hesitate—he tore it in two. The rip was sharp, final, cutting through the thick silence between us. "These people seem to actually enjoy what they're doing to you, Leif." His voice was quieter now, but there was something burning underneath it. "How old were you when this happened?" His question threw me off. I'd been expecting his rants, his anger. I expected him to get up and walk out, really. "Not tha’ ol’," I breathed, running a hand through my dark hair. He snarled, "Leif, I want a straight answer, please. I told you I was done, and I meant it." Though he was obviously pained by what he was seeing, he still held strong to his polite side. Then, more gently, he spoke again. "Leif, I can't see things from your side if you don't give me full disclosure." Again, I nodded. "I donnae rightly recall, but I believe I was ten-ish." He raised a brow at me, saying nothing as he waited for me to continue. His silence stretched, thick with unspoken words, pressing down on me like a weight I couldn’t shake. Taking a deep breath, I swallowed my pride. "There's something else, Dreson." Closing my eyes, I braced myself for shouting, for doors slamming, for the inevitable storm that was bound to hit. "I may ‘ave a child. They used so many drugs on me, I donnae know fer sure."