Leaving her behind was tough, but I was swamped with issues following the incident. Clearing up these messes was essential for rescuing Debra and bringing my family back together.
๐€โถล๏ฝแปืฉ๏ผฅ๐๏ฝ.ฤ๐๐ช
As I was about to speed off, Damien couldn’t resist asking, “Caleb, have you figured out how to save Debra?”
I simply shook my head and said, “No.”
“What? What’s our plan then? Didn’t you just promise her she’d be out of there? Were you just saying that?”
๊งเผโฌ๐๐ฎ๐ช๐ป๐๐ธ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ต๐ผ.๐๐ธ๐ถโฌเผ๊ง
“I didn’t lie,” I said, feeling a bit lost. “I don’t have a plan yet, but I know the main issue is with my dad. If I can get through to him, freeing Debra should be possible.”
Damien looked skeptical. “Really? Even if Debra is released, how will you handle the Thorn Edge Pack’s refusal to accept her as Luna?”
I went quiet for a moment.
This was truly the major issue. My initial plan involved overhauling the system and shifting the pack’s views on witches, especially once we were strong enough to challenge the old-fashioned and rigid elders.
‘s
I intended to reveal Debra’s identity when the time felt right.
But now, our plans were thrown into disarray.
The opportunity to introduce her properly had been lost, making the current exposure far from ideal, especially since the timing was all wrong.
With a heavy sigh, I said, “Let’s put that discussion on hold for now.”
My next stop was at my mother’s house to pick up the kids and offer them some comfort. They had seen the events in the church firsthand and must have been scared. Constantly staying at my mother’s place wasn’t the best for them.
However, upon reaching the villa’s gate, I caught the sound of arguing from inside the hall. It appeared my parents were quarreling.
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My heart raced.
Was there trouble?
Without a second thought, I made my way inside.
Pak!
A sharp sound of a slap reached my ears.
Upon entering, I found my mother on the floor, her face marked with a vivid red print from a slap, while my father stood over her, hand still raised in the air, clearly the one who had struck her.
The children, witnessing such a scene for the first time, were terrified and began to cry.
My father advanced a couple of steps, seemingly ready to lash out at the kids too. But my mother, despite being on the floor, quickly shielded them with her body.
Fuming with anger, my father pointed at my mother, yelling, “Why are you defending them now?”
Unruffled, my mother answered with her usual calm, “Patrick, these children are innocent, and they are our grandchildren. Protecting them is only natural. You’re acting irrationally. As their grandfather, harming them is out of the question.”
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