Chapter 121: Bonds of Blood
Thelma Zane’s POV
In the study.
A heavy silence blanketed the room, like a dense fog that refused to lift. Everyone wore expressions tinged with sorrow, disappointment, or both. My father, King Victor, and Duke Frank exchanged somber glances as their gazes periodically drifted toward Duke Lennon. The southern Duke sat apart, his face clouded with anguish. His demeanor reflected a man caught in a storm of regret, too consumed by his own turmoil to notice the disapproval radiating
from those around him.
My mother gently pulled me to sit beside her on the plush sofa, her hand resting on mine in a reassuring yet wordless gesture. Her face carried an air of quiet sadness as though she wanted to say something but lacked the words to soften the gravity of the moment.
Breaking the silence, my father’s voice resonated with a blend of frustration and disbelief.” Lennon, I thought we were more than allies in war. I thought we were brothers, trusted comrades who shared everything, especially in times of adversity. Yet, you’ve hidden something so monumental, something that has the potential to alter the course of reality itself. How could you keep such a secret from us?”
Duke Lennon raised his head slightly, his pained eyes meeting my father’s stern gaze.
“What was between you and Anna?” my father pressed. “I know you shared a bond, but your never once mentioned that bond resulted in a child! How could you have kept this from us?”
Lennon buried his face in his hands, his voice a tortured whisper. “By the Moon Goddess, Victor, I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know Anna was pregnant! If I had known, I would have protected her with my life. I would have given up everything for her and for our child.”
My father’s patience snapped. “Enough of this self-pity, Lennon! Stop groveling like a defeated soldier. Look me in the eyes and face the truth like a man!”
Lennon’s shoulders trembled under the weight of his grief, but he reluctantly obeyed, lifting his gaze to meet my father’s fiery eyes.
“You should never have involved yourself with Anna, let alone behind our backs,” my father
continued, his voice brimming with disappointment. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? She was a witch–an enemy during a time of war. You compromised the integrity of everything we stood for. You betrayed the restraint and discipline expected of a warrior. I am deeply, deeply disappointed in you, Lennon.”
Lennon’s composure crumbled. “You think I’m not disappointed in myself? I’ve done something unforgivable, Victor. I’ve brought nothing but ruin to those I cared about. What have I done? What have I done?”
Chaper 121 Hands of doct
Sensing the escalating tension, Duke Frank intervened, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Gentlemen, enough! There’s no point in dredging up the past now. What’s done is done, and no amount of regret will change it. We need to focus on the present and deal with the consequences before us.
My mother, ever the mediator, stood and moved toward the tea service. She poured cups for the men, her soothing presence like a balm to the strained atmosphere. “Please, sit down, she urged gently. “I know emotions are running bigh, but now is not the time to let anger and grief cloud our judgment. War has brought us countless tragedies, and this is yet another. But wallowing in regret will not help Adele or anyone else. Let’s focus on what can be done to mend this situation.”
Lennon drained his cup of tea in a single gulp, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he sat in silence, staring at the empty cup in his hands as if searching for answers at the bottom. Then, with a sudden determination, he stood and turned to my father.
“Your Majesty,” he said solemnly, “I beg you to forgive Adele for her actions. She is the product of my mistakes, a victim of my recklessness and failure. Whatever punishment you deem fit, let it fall on me instead.”
My father’s expression hardened. “Lennon, what are you talking about? This isn’t about forgiveness or punishment. Adele’s actions have caused immense harm to innocent werewolves. She’s not a child anymore; she’s responsible for her choices. Do you think your guilt toward her absolves her of the pain she’s inflicted? What about Carolyn? Have you forgotten that she, too, is your daughter? Carolyn was captured and tortured by Adele. Where is your concern for her?”
Each word struck Lennon like a blow, and he staggered under the weight of his own remorse. My father’s anger showed no sign of abating, but before he could say more, I decided to
intervene.
“Southern Duke,” I began cautiously, “I understand the love you have for your daughter, and I understand the guilt you carry. But as a daughter myself, I can tell you this: neither Adele nor Carolyn would want you to act this way.
“Children cannot choose the circumstances of their birth, but they look to their parents for love and guidance. When that love is given freely, it becomes a source of strength. But when love is withheld, it leaves wounds that fester into resentment. Adele grew up in the shadow of your absence. Can you blame her for hating you?
Lennon’s face crumpled, his grief palpable. I continued, my voice steady but gentle. “Even so, I don’t believe Adele has stopped loving you. Beneath her anger and hatred, she longs for the fatherly love she never received. That’s the tragedy of bloodlines. They bind us together with love, even when they bring pain.
“Yes, she’s done terrible things. But perhaps those actions were her way of crying out for the love she always wanted but never had. Carolyn, on the other hand, is fortunate to have known
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your love. You must realize that both daughters need you now more than ever–not your guilt, not your shame, but your strength and love.”
My words hung in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke. Lennon slumped back into his chair, covering his face with trembling hands. My mother reached for my hand, squeezing it in silent encouragement.
“You’re right,” Lennon finally said, his voice barely audible. “You’re right, Thelma. I failed them both. But I don’t know how to make it right.”
Lennon.
My father’s stern expression softened, and he let out a weary sigh. “It won’t be easy, But the first step is to face the consequences of your actions and take responsibility–not just
for the past, but for what comes i
The room fell into a contemplative silence. In that moment, the weight of the past felt crushing, yet there was also a glimmer of hope–a fragile thread that might just hold these fractured bonds together.
