Chapter 3 ~ First Rebirth, Pt. 1
1336 Words
Leona’s POV
I sit there completely flabbergasted by what my father just said.
Actually, flabbergasted might not even cover it.
My brain has officially packed its bags, boarded a plane, and left the damn country.
Your future has been reset.
You have been given another chance.
The second life the gods have given you.
I slowly turn my head toward Mom.
Surely she is going to laugh.
Tell me Dad is being dramatic.
Tell me there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for why I remember bleeding to death in an abandoned warehouse eight years from now.
Instead, my mother casually raises her teacup to her lips and takes another sip as though Dad just informed me there might be rain this afternoon.
I stare at her.
She stares back.
I wait.
Mom gingerly nods.
My eyes practically bug out of my skull.
“I-I...”
My finger points toward my chest.
“I've been... re-re-re—”
Dad winces before I even finish.
“REBORN?!”
My shout rattles the windows.
I bolt off the couch so quickly that some of my tea sloshes over the side of the cup.
Mom calmly reaches over and rescues it before I can dump the entire thing onto the carpet.
Priorities, apparently.
Dad nods.
Mom nods.
Again.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Mom says.
My legs lose whatever strength they had.
I drop back onto the couch.
Hard.
For several seconds, I just stare at them.
Then at the floor.
Then at my hands.
I turn them over.
Nothing. No scars. No dried blood. No evidence that eight years from now these same hands will claw desperately against freezing concrete while I beg someone—anyone—to save my babies.
I press my palms against my thighs.
“How?” My voice sounds tiny.
Mom sets her tea onto the table. The casual expression disappears. She adjusts herself on the loveseat and faces me fully.
“It is a gift granted to members of our bloodline by the Moon Goddess,” she explains. “But only when circumstances become dire enough to threaten the future peace and balance of this world.”
I stare at her.
“Our bloodline?”
“Yes.”
“The Knights?”
Dad nods. Mom continues.
“Almost no one knows this secret. There are reasons for that.”
Her expression hardens.
“If others discovered that members of our family could potentially be granted another life, there are those who would hunt us out of greed, fear, jealousy, or the desire to understand and control something that was never meant for them.”
A chill runs down my spine.
“So nobody knows?”
“No one outside the direct line,” Dad answers.
I blink. “Uncle Liam?”
“No.”
“General Benson?”
“No.”
“Gabrielle?”
“No.”
“Dominick?”
“No.”
I lean backward.
“Holy shit.”
“Leona,” Mom warns automatically.
I gape at her.
“I died and came back eight years in the past, and that's what we're focusing on?”
Dad coughs into his fist.
Mom shoots him a look.
He's hiding a laugh.
Traitor.
Mom sighs. “Under the circumstances, I'll allow it.”
“Thank you.”
“But don't make it a habit.”
“No promises.”
Dad's mouth twitches.
Mom ignores both of us.
“Liam and Charles are among our closest family and friends,” she continues. “We trust them with our lives. But sometimes circumstances become complicated without anyone intending them to.” She glances at Dad.
“And the Goddess herself forbade us from revealing the truth.”
Dad's expression becomes solemn.
“When a deity gives you a direct command, little one, you obey.”
Mom nods.
“She did not owe our family this gift. She chose us for reasons you'll understand soon. We have always been grateful.”
Something in the way they speak catches my attention.
Not like people repeating an old story. Like people remembering something.
My eyes narrow. I look at Mom. Then Dad.
Then back at Mom.
“Wait.”
They both become suspiciously still. I point between them.
“Have you two been reborn?”
Mom's eyes drop. Dad exhales slowly.
Oh.
My.
Goddess.
“You have.”
“Unfortunately,” Dad says quietly, “yes.”
My mouth falls open.
“You're serious?”
“Very.”
“When?”
Dad leans forward, resting his forearms against his knees. “You wouldn't remember the original events. You weren't meant to.”
My stomach tightens. “What does that mean?”
Mom reaches for Dad's hand. Their fingers intertwine.
“In our first life,” Dad says, “your mother and I were tricked into rejecting our bond.”
My heart stops. “What?”
He doesn't blink.
“People close to us deliberately manipulated both of us. Lies. Fabricated evidence. False witnesses. Carefully manufactured circumstances. Every insecurity we had was exploited.”
I look at Mom. Tears glisten in her ocean-blue eyes.
“No.”
She squeezes Dad's hand.
“Yes.”
“But you're true mates.”
“We are,” Dad says.
“Then how could—”
“Being true mates doesn't make us incapable of fear, Leona.”
That silences me.
Dad's golden eyes lower.
“And it certainly doesn't make us incapable of making terrible choices when fear is disguised as truth.”
Mom takes over.
“We were young. Proud. Powerful. Surrounded by people who constantly told us that leadership required certainty. Neither one of us wanted to appear weak.”
A bitter smile touches her lips.
“So instead of admitting how terrified we were of losing each other, we allowed other people to convince us that we'd already been betrayed.”
My throat tightens. “What happened?”
Neither answers. Not immediately. I already know I'm not going to like it.
Dad's thumb rubs slowly across Mom's knuckles.
“We rejected each other.”
My stomach twists.
The mate bond is sacred. Breaking one hurts. Rejecting a true mate? I've heard stories. Most end badly.
“And?”
Mom's voice trembles. “We couldn't survive it.”
My eyes widen.
No.
“Mom...”
She closes her eyes.
“We both took our lives.”
The words hit me like a punch directly to the chest. I shoot to my feet.
“No.”
Dad's gaze snaps to mine.
“Leona—”
“No!”
I shake my head violently.
“No. Absolutely not. You two—you don't—”
My voice cracks. I look between them. I've spent my entire life watching my parents love each other... Watching Dad kiss Mom when he thinks nobody is paying attention.
Watching Mom automatically straighten his collar before meetings. Watching them dance in the kitchen when some old song comes on. Watching Dad stare at her like she personally hung every star in the sky.
Watching Mom pretend his terrible jokes aren't funny before laughing five seconds later. My parents don't exist separately in my mind. They're simply...
Mom and Dad.
Together.
Always.
“You died?”
Dad rises and approaches me. “Yes.”
I take another step back.
“Both of you?”
“Yes.”
“And the Goddess just... brought you back?”
“Not immediately.”
I swallow. “Then what happened?”
Dad gestures toward the couch. This time, I don't sit. Neither does he. Mom remains where she is, watching us. Dad seems to understand I need to stand.
“After our deaths, the future began collapsing.”
I frown. “How?”
“Our union was not simply a mate bond,” Mom says. “It was necessary for several bloodlines to converge.”
Dad looks directly at me.
“For you to exist.”
My breath catches.
Me.
“If we remained dead,” he continues, “you were never born.”
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