Chapter 60

Cheney's return was a bittersweet relief. He bore the physical scars of his encounter with the vampires, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. His emotions were just as ravaged though.

As he convalesced in our den, the triplets and I couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt and remorse for the divisions that had fractured our unity.

Brian and Nicholas stood stalwart by Cheney's bedside, their expressions a mix of concern and regret. They had never seen their brother so beaten down. I knew only part of his demeanor was my fault, but I carried the guilt for the entirety anyway.

Cheney, though still healing, looked up at us all with a hint of forgiveness in his eyes. It was an unspoken acknowledgment that the fractures between us had taken a toll on all of us.

I could tell by their closeness to each other and to me that we were beginning to mend the cracks in our relationship that I had created.

Yet, even as we began to mend the rift between us, a new source of tension began to unravel. The guards around me, once a symbol of protection, had become stifling. Every step I took, every move I made, was closely monitored, and I felt like a caged animal.

One evening, as I attempted to go for a walk in the moonlit forest that I held so dear to my heart, I tripped over an invisible barrier, stumbling to the ground.

Panic and claustrophobia washed over me, and I pushed against the unseen restraint, feeling trapped and helpless. The guards closed in around me, each of them reaching down over me to check on me and help me up.

In my head I knew there was nothing was holding me down, but the buildup of restlessness and captured energy that I’d felt over the past few months got the better of me.

Nicholas rushed to my side, his voice laced with concern. "Beryl, are you okay? What happened?" Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled to breathe. "I can't take this anymore, Nicholas. I feel suffocated, like I'm a prisoner in my own home."

He looked torn, his protective instincts warring with his understanding of my distress. "Beryl, we can't afford to take any risks, especially not now, with everything that's happening."

But my pregnancy hormones were a volatile mix, intensifying my emotions and pushing me to my limits. I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "I'm not a fragile doll, Nicholas! I can handle myself. I need space, not constant surveillance."

I pushed everyone around me away, and struggled to my feet, putting as much space between them and me as I could manage. With each step away though, they pushed in closer to me.

“Get away from me!” I shouted, near panic again. Nicholas reached out, ignoring my words. “Beryl, come back now. You’re being ridiculous.”

His words stirred an anger inside me that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding back. I growled, releasing the wolf that constantly lingered beneath the surface. Wynter and I had become one long ago, but I felt as though I could hear her voice in my mind. Get them away, get them away, get them away.

A feral instinct awoke inside me, and I lashed out with my words, trying again to put distance between myself and the men in front of me in any way that I could.

Our argument escalated, each word a dagger that drove a wedge between us. I knew deep down that he was only trying to protect me, but I couldn't help but feel suffocated by the guards who hovered around me like silent sentinels.

As the days passed, my volatility didn't abate. Arguments erupted with alarming frequency, not just with the triplets, but with everyone around me.

I was pushing everyone around me away. I was alienating myself from those that I loved most. I could feel myself doing it but was powerless to stop it. The distance between the triplets and me widened once more, a painful reminder of the fractures that still lingered within our unity.

One evening, as the tension in our home, and across the compound, reached its breaking point, Nicholas approached me, his voice heavy with frustration. "Beryl, we love you, but this can't continue. You're pushing us away, and it's tearing us apart."

I remained defiant, refusing to bend under the weight of their expectations. "I won't be a prisoner in my own life, Nicholas. You must understand that.”

Tension hung thick in the air as I faced the triplets, their expressions a mix of concern and frustration.

"Beryl," Brian began, his voice gentle yet firm, "we can't continue like this."

I crossed my arms, a defensive gesture, my eyes defiant. "What exactly do you think should be done about it?"

Nicholas exchanged a worried glance with Cheney before taking a step closer. "Your behavior, Beryl. It's not normal."

I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Oh, so now I'm not normal? What's normal, then?"

Cheney's voice was patient as he explained, "Normal is not going into a rage over the smallest things, Beryl. Normal is not pushing away the people who care about you most."

My nostrils flared, anger bubbling up inside me. "You think I'm doing this on purpose? You think I enjoy feeling like this?"

Brian stepped closer, his hand reaching out as if to touch me, but he hesitated, sensing my volatile mood. "No, Beryl, we don't think that. But we do believe that something's not right."

I clenched my fists, my voice laced with disbelief. "You're saying it's me? That I'm the problem here?"

Nicholas spoke gently, his eyes searching mine. "No, Beryl, you're not the problem. But something's affecting you, and we need to figure out what it is."

I shook my head, a wave of frustration washing over me. "There's nothing to figure out. I'm pregnant. This is what happens. Hormones go haywire, and women get moody. It's textbook stuff."

Cheney sighed, his tone empathetic. "Yes, mood swings are common during pregnancy, but what you've been experiencing goes beyond that. It's like you're a different person."

A surge of anger coursed through me. "So now you're saying I'm not myself? That I'm some kind of monster?"

Brian stepped forward, his expression pained. "Beryl, we don't think you're a monster. We just want to help you. We're worried about you."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I turned away from them, unable to bear their concern. "I don't need your help. I can handle myself."

Rationally, deep down, I knew they meant well. But my rational brain wasn’t in charge right now, and the pain that surged through me was intense. I stood and stormed from the room, as I had done many times recently.