Chapter 32

Aurora’s POV

How am I supposed to keep from catching feelings for Thorne if he keeps saving me like he did yesterday at lunch?

Also, what am I supposed to do now that I can’t stop thinking about him?

Yesterday, Thorne had swooped in right in time to get Ethan to release me. Then, he took me away with the excuse of helping me calm down, though, I felt like he was also in need of time to calm down.

The car ride back to my house was completely silent, but it was comfortable silence. The only noises were the sounds of our breathing, and I’m sure the fast beating of my heart because Thorne wouldn’t let go of my thigh. As soon as he got in the car, his hand was on my thigh, squeezing gently as if he needed it there to remind him I was beside him.

I liked it… probably too much.

Another thing I liked way too much, that I would never admit out loud, was how he hauled me into the house, threw me against the wall, and kissed me like he needed me more than air. My thigh still tingles where his hand had held me in the car, and my lips… I touch them and sigh. They’re still hot from the kiss.

The sore spot on my shoulder also buzzes with a slight pain from where he’d bit into me while he took me from behind.

I think it was his way of reminding me I wasn’t supposed to be around other men, and it’s working. Too well. So far, I’ve shied away from every man I passed by today, not realizing it until after they left my sight.

It’s surprising how much Thorne affects me.

Everything about him is addicting and dangerous.

I glance at his office. The blinds are open, giving me an unobstructed view of the man in question as he talks on the phone. I’m so caught up in my delusions that when my phone rings, it startles me.

“Hi, Mo—”

“Oh, thank goodness, Aurora. I’m so glad you answered,” Mom gushes in a panic. “Your stepfather got into trouble with another werewolf and was sent to the hospital.”

I start to ask if he’s alright, but the words feel sour in my throat when I remember what he did. He sold me to a club who was going to whore me out to its patrons. Should I even care if he’s alright?

“I need you to come to the hospital,” my mother says before rattling off the hospital name and a jumble of other words. I sit there, stunned at her demand. I don’t even know if I want to be in the same room as my stepfather after what he’s done. There’s no forgetting the pain and fear I felt in the short time I was locked in that room.

He did that.

“Aurora? Are you on your way? I need you,” she cries. “I-I don’t know what condition he’s in or if he’s okay…”

Sniffles and whimpers filter through the phone, making me close my eyes on a sigh.

“I’m coming, but Mom, I need you to listen to me,” I say, using my most serious voice. After what my stepfather did, I can’t forgive him so easily. “Are you listening, Mom?”

“I am. What is it?”

“I’m not paying for any of this hospital visit or any treatments, so if that’s why you want me there, tell me now.” I need to put my foot down. I love my mother, but I can’t keep enabling my stepfather’s bad decisions and habits any longer, especially since those bad decisions are what hurt me.

There’s a long silence before my mother stutters, “No, no. That’s not why I want you here. I-I just need the support.”

“Okay, Mom. I’m on my way.”

I didn’t say it just then, but I won’t be helping them pay off my stepfather’s debts either. This visit will be simply to comfort my mother and figure out why my stepfather got into a conflict with another werewolf.

Though, I’m sure I know why. He still has debts to pay.

This may be his punishment for me escaping the club that night, but it serves him right. He’s dealing in shady business, which probably got him hurt.

If he was responsible and paid his debts like he was supposed to, this wouldn’t have happened.

Sighing, I gather my purse and phone before making my way downstairs. I don’t rush to the hospital, though. My stepfather isn’t my favorite person right now, and there’s not much I could do other than sit by my mom’s side, so I take my time, catch the bus, and ride it to the closest stop.

I don’t hurry inside like several other people do. Does that make me a bad person?

Soon, I stop at the front desk and give the woman my name. She directs me to the fourth floor, and after taking an elevator, I realize I need the room number. I stop a kind-looking nurse and ask.

“He’s in room 406,” the nurse says, pointing down the hallway. “It’s down on the left.”

“Thank you.”

Turning, I make my way down the hall, only stopping when I come to room 406. However, before I can enter, my mother and stepfather’s voices spill into the hallway. Hoping to get a hint of the atmosphere before I go in, I lean in and listen.

“Please stop gambling, honey,” my mother pleads. “It’s causing us nothing but trouble, and it’s pushing Aurora away. She thinks the only reason we want her is for her money.”

She’s partially right. I know my mother loves me, but lately, every call has been about money.

“We always ask her for more money, and I think we should stop. I happen to know she’s very low on money,” my mother adds when my stepfather stays quiet. An embarrassed heat fills my cheeks, and I press my hands to them, still listening.

“We took her in. She owes us,” my stepfather growls.

Took me in? What does that mean?

I lean in closer, needing to hear what they say next. Their voices lower to the point that I have to press my ear to the door to hear my mother’s next words.

“I took her in, you mean. The day I found her on my doorstep, I made the decision to take care of her,” my mother snaps, her tone a bit harsh. “I can’t just keep pushing her further into debt like this. You have to stop gambling.”

My mind spins with her words, only focusing when my stepfather replies, “You’re awfully protective of a girl who isn’t your biological child.”

The words make me freeze, my entire world tilting and flipping upside down around me as the information fails to process in my mind.

She found me on her doorstep… took me in… not her biological child…

What are they talking about?

I want to burst into the room, but my feet are glued to the floor as my mind spins and spins and spins.

Is what they’re saying true? Am I not my mother’s biological daughter?