Her Wolf (Book 1 of The Circle Series)

CHAPTER 4: HOMECOMING

(Content Warning: Mention of s****l assault and violence)

GIADA 

“How was your flight? Did you get any sleep?” dad asks.

He pulls me in for a hug and takes my luggage as we make our way out of the airport. It’s been a year since my parents came to visit and I notice his dark hair is starting to grey on the sides. He still looks handsome for a man who is almost fifty.

“I can never get comfortable on planes,” I grumble. “I read two books though.”

Dad gives me a small smile, one that looks awfully like my own. I’ve got a blonde ombré going on right now, but naturally, my hair is dark brown, thick, and very wavy, just like his. We also have the same green eyes and an ivory complexion that tans nicely in the summer but has people questioning how we’re from the south of Italy in the winter. 

“How’s the teleportation coming along? I was hoping you’d use it to come home and we’d see if you could do the distance.” 

Not only do we look alike, but we also share some of the same powers. Magic is like DNA. Humans pass on their genetic traits like witches pass on their magic. It can also evolve into other powers, like mine did, or become stronger when a witch comes of age. I was born with the power of telekinesis and when I was a teenager, I started being able to teleport. My dad can do the same. 

But I have no idea where being an empath and healer comes from. I was always quite sensitive as a child, but the ability to feel specific emotions in other people is something that developed when I fully came into my powers. Magic can go back five generations but no one in our family was a healer or an empath that we know about.

“It didn’t feel right to me. Projecting a short distance is one thing, but doing it across a continent instead of buying an expensive plane ticket would definitely fall under the category of personal gain.” 

“I know, gioia (joy). And it’s great that you never abuse your gifts. I just thought it would be awesome if you could do the distance. You know teleporting across the Atlantic is quite the feat.”

“We can’t all be as impressive as you dad,” I say, rolling my eyes. When he left his family in Italy to come here, that’s how he did it. 

“You’re right. Not everyone can be, but you sure are.” He’s wearing a goofy smile that reveals his immense pride as he goes in for the third hug since he’s picked me up at the airport. I don’t mind though. Mom, on the other hand, greets me at the door with a simple smile and a hello, as though she sees me everyday.

“You ready to eat?” she asks. 

She’s not overly affectionate like him, but feeding people is how she shows love. The aroma from the kitchen makes my mouth water. She used to dream of being a chef and opening a restaurant when she was young, but when it became clear she would be the next high priestess of our coven, she abandoned those dreams. 

“Is Valentina coming?” 

She shakes her head, and I shouldn’t be surprised but it stings a bit that my cousin isn’t here. 

Valentina and I are the first females to be born on my mom’s side that are not twins. There’s been a set in every generation as far back as our family can recall. Our nonna was a twin, our moms are twins and then there’s us. 

We were actually born on the same day, minutes apart. My cousin and I were as close as sisters growing up and she has every reason to be upset with how I’ve treated her since I left. We kept in touch the first few months I had gone to Italy but it was hard to keep up the pretense that everything was okay, when in fact I was drowning and unable to cope. She would see right through me, I knew this, and I didn't want my family worrying. 

At the time, it was the only way I could try to forget. When I couldn’t bury the issues anymore and finally went to therapy, so much time passed that I didn’t know how to go about fixing things between us. Aside from the odd birthday text or holiday message, we barely spoke. 

“You should go over to see her,” my mom suggests. 

She’s right. I need to make things right. After dinner, my dad clears the table and then goes to watch television while my mom and I wash and dry the dishes. It’s these seemingly small things that make me feel like no time has passed at all. 

“Can I ask you something? Why didn’t you ask me to come home? I’ve been gone for five years. Is it because you were embarrassed I backed out of the circle ritual? Was it easier to face the coven with me gone?” 

Her eyes widen for a few seconds and then they soften. She puts down the sponge.  

“I’ve never been embarrassed by you, ever. The truth is, I felt like I was the one who pushed you away. Trying to force you to do the ritual was a mistake and I blame myself for you getting involved with Rafe. Maybe if I hadn’t tried to control your decisions back then, you wouldn’t have felt the need to turn to someone else.” 

“That’s not your fault,” I try to assure her. I didn’t blame her. It was me who blindly trusted someone I didn’t really know. 

“It’s like I was watching history repeat itself. Your grandmother pushed my sister to the point that she left and hasn’t returned. I couldn’t become like my mother, but one summer turned into a year, and then two, and I didn’t quite know what to do. We hoped you would come back on your own, but I was afraid to bring it up. So we visited you and kept the trips light and fun in hopes that you would eventually return home.” 

She rests her hand on my arm, and I close my eyes, relishing in her touch. My mom is a powerful seer who has visions that are brought on usually when she has physical contact with someone. Some visions are premonitions, others are past events and memories. Because she can’t control when and how she gets them, she avoids touching people as often as possible. 

Valentina also has the same power and behaves the same way. I completely understand why they are the way they are, maybe even more so now that I’m an empath and have no control of what people project my way.  

“Thank you for allowing me that time to make my own decisions,” I place my hand over hers. 

She’s uneasy and hesitant now as she stares at my hand. Whatever she’s about to say next makes her nervous.

“I also didn’t push the matter because I know what happened. I saw what he did to you,” she whispers that last part. 

I pull my hand back as though scorched by her words.

“What do you mean? Did you just have a vision?” 

Hecate, our goddess, created all witches and our powers but they often came with limitations. Witches are powerful beings but we aren’t gods and we’re reminded often of that fact. For example, my mom and Valentina have difficulty getting clear or consistent visions from family and those closest to them. They both hate this because they feel that friends and family are the people they would like to help the most. My mother says it’s the goddess’ way of keeping things fair. 

I know she blames herself for Rafe. If she had been able to see how things would end, she would’ve never allowed us to be together. 

“I asked Valentina to project to me the memories of that night,” she says somberly. 

I freeze. 

“What? Why...I don’t understand...why would you do that?” I stutter, barely able to get the words out.

“I needed to know Giada.” 

“No, you really didn’t.” 

I can’t process what she’s telling me. What would possess her to do such a thing?

“You had no right,” my voice is shaky. “You shouldn’t have done that. Valentina shouldn’t have done that.”

I take a few deep breaths but I can’t seem to regulate my breathing. Gripping the counter, I step back and lean my body forward to stop the dizzying sensations. My mom is calling me but her voice seems so far away and the muscles in my lips feel paralyzed, rendering me incapable of responding. 

She saw it all? 

It was one thing for her to hear about it during the trial, but it was another for her to ask to see it. I had purposely requested everyone leave the room when I testified, so they were spared the details. No mother should ever have to live with knowing their daughter was raped, let alone witness the assault. This whole time, I thought I had spared her that horror since I wasn’t able to spare my dad or Valentina. 

Why?

My vision starts to blur as her emotions begin to overwhelm me. Guilt, sadness, anger, pain.  It’s all coming in waves from her and I can’t take it. My shield won’t go up. It’s useless when I’m like this. I drop to the ground burying my head to my knees. 

Why can’t I breathe? 

My lungs are working so hard, desperate for oxygen. Sweat is trickling down my back and my chest hurts so much. I don’t know how long I stay in that position on the floor but when I lift my head, my dad is seated beside my mom, holding her hand tightly and Valentina is somehow on the floor beside me. 

When did she get here? Did they call her? 

I’m in a bit of a daze. Valentina helps me up and my body is terribly sore. It feels so heavy. She walks with me to the couch and wraps a blanket around my shoulders and my mom comes in with some tea. I can tell she’s been crying. 

"I’m normally not like this, really. I don’t even think about it much anymore. I'm sorry for worrying you all.” I try to sound convincing but my tears contradict my words. I’m surprised words are even coming out right now. "Really, I just didn't expect you to have done that mom, I wish you hadn't."

The truth is these past five years have been a struggle but I thought I was getting better, getting stronger. I never wanted any of them to see me like this. 

"I should be the one saying sorry. I wanted to understand how you were hurting, to try to help you, but once I saw..." my mom pauses. "Everything…” she takes a deep breath. “I knew. I knew immediately I wouldn't be able to do anything, which made it worse. And you were so far away."

I nod, unable to say anything.

“I didn’t want any of you worrying about me.” I sip my tea and try to compose myself. The smell of chamomile envelops me like a warm hug. "It was foolish of me to distance myself, but I just didn't know what to do." 

“None of us really knew what to do,” Valentina says evenly. 

I stare at my cousin. Her honey colored eyes don’t give anything away. “I didn’t think you’d come. I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” 

She sighs, “I’m not going to pretend I’m not hurt, Gia. I am, but I always want to see you,” she responds earnestly. "And I should've said no when your mom asked me. I knew the lengths you went to make your testimony alone in the courtroom. I'm sorry." 

“It's okay. Really,” I say a bit more confidently. "This usually doesn't happen to me. I was just caught off guard." 

“Don’t think for a second that what just happened makes you weak. We know you’re incredibly strong, Giada. And you’re not strong solely because of what happened to you. Your strength goes back further than that, it’s who you are and it’s always been there. It’s deeper than your trauma,” my dad says, pushing a strand of my hair out of my face.

I’ve been so alone with my pain that it feels almost unnatural to allow someone else to be near me when I’m hurting. Marco tried repeatedly and I always pushed him away. As good as it feels to have their support, I feel the need to separate myself from them, from what just happened. I need to put some distance between us. 

“I’m feeling drained all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.” I turn to Valentina, “Can we talk later?” 

“Sure,” she nods her head. 

I trudge up the steps to my old bedroom. It hasn’t changed one bit. It looks exactly as it did when I moved out for school. The girl who lived in here was so stupid, so gullible. Why couldn’t I have stayed here and gone to school? I went to university downtown, I didn’t need an apartment there, but I wanted to be an adult. And my parents were happy to oblige, never denying me anything. 

I tuck myself in the covers and although my body feels like it was run over by a truck, I can’t sleep. My thoughts circle around my mother and her revelation. I can’t believe she wanted to see what happened. Didn’t she know those memories will never disappear? They will forever be etched in her mind. 

How many times had I wished my mind and my body could forget? How many f*****g times? And she asked for those memories? 

Valentina didn’t ask to see what happened to me, I had projected it to her unknowingly that fateful night while she held my hand and waited for one of our healers to check my wounds in my apartment. 

Why did I enter the apartment alone that night? I have asked myself this a million times. I have replayed that night in my mind repeatedly, and each time I think of so many different ways I could’ve handled the situation. 

So confident in my powers. So cocky.

Rafe would feel guilty for smacking me; he wouldn’t dare hit me again. I would use my powers to throw him off of me if he did it again. All of those thoughts had crossed my mind before I went in. 

He was in our bedroom when I got there. I was back to grab some clothes and end things with him. He apologized for hitting me but he was still angry that I had gone to the funeral after he told me not to. Near the end of our relationship, he had become more and more controlling and I had had enough, so I told him. 

I told him I was angry with myself for trusting and living with someone I didn’t really know. I called him names, told him he tricked me into believing he was sweet but in actuality, he was a monster which set him off. He came up from behind, totally surprising me as he cuffed a bracelet on me that bound my powers. To this day, I still don’t know where he got that from. I realize now there were a lot of things I didn’t know about him. Things he kept hidden from me and now that he’s in jail, I may never get the answers. 

Once he bound my powers, I was defenseless, and I had never been more terrified in my life as he hit me with his fists.  Pulling down my dress, he clawed at me like an animal. I have yet to see someone more enraged than he was that night. So enraged that it led him to violate me in the most gruesome way possible. He pushed my face up against the wall and forced himself inside of me. 

My boyfriend. The supposedly sweet boy I met in the library was gone and replaced by a madman. He kept repeating that I would never leave him, that he wouldn’t let me ruin his plans, that he wanted to put another baby inside of me all the while continuing to hit me with his fists.

I screamed and screamed until my voice was hoarse. Why didn’t anyone hear me? Where were our neighbors? Valentina was in the car waiting for me downstairs. Why hadn’t I listened to her when she said she’d come in with me? At some point, Rafe was lifted off of me by my dad and Valentina was in the apartment calling the Tribunal’s enforcers.

Later she would explain how she had a vision of what was happening. She called my dad immediately and he teleported in the apartment. I remember Valentina cradling my body on the floor as the sounds of my dad beating Rafe were heard in the background. There was blood all down my legs, having miscarried only days before. I was still recovering from the medication given to help clear my body.

The thought of potentially sharing a child with Rafe was a sobering one. 

There are days when I still mourn that loss, mourn the life that the baby could have had. And then there are some dark days I’m not proud of, where I’m thankful for the loss. Thankful I never had to raise a baby to know how unjust and cruel life can be. How unjust and cruel their father could be. 

Fresh tears flow on the pillow tucked into my chest. This is the problem with therapy, with overcoming your fears and triggers, you relive the trauma to process it. And reliving it was torturous for the mind and the body. 

What a homecoming this was. Weeks before, I was praising myself for having my anxiety under control and now here I was spiraling and unable to pull myself together. Was it a mistake coming home? I hadn’t even been back one full day. I head to the washroom and stand over the sink. Taking several deep breaths, I wash my face. 

I will be fine. I am safe here. No one can hurt me. 

I repeat these affirmations and take out my diffuser from my luggage. Hopefully, some lavender oil will help me sleep. Tomorrow will be better because I will see Jacqueline. I focus on the excitement the surprise will bring—the joy I will experience. I’ll meet the twins. I’ll see Milan. Maybe her brother will even be around. I smile at the thought of Sebastian and somehow drift off to sleep.