My Family Stole My Run I Returned A Leader Chapter 12
I was standing onstage, giving a speech, a relaxed and confident smile on my face.
Below the poster were the words:
“Freshman Student Representative — Paloma Lombardi”
And next to that, in smaller print:
“Recipient of the Morningwatch Research Council Full Scholarship.”
Stefan stood there, staring at the photo for a long time.
He had always thought that without him, I would have a hard life.
But in that picture, I looked composed. Assured.
New students from different packs stood around me, and no one was excluding me because I had grown up in Gray Valley.
He had never seen me look like that in the Lombardi house.
He lifted a hand, as if to touch the photo behind the glass, then let it drop.
He had no right.
He had once been the person I trusted most, and later, the one who hurt me the most.
Slowly, Stefan lowered his hand, his eyes red.
A long while later, he finally turned and walked away.
That day, he understood at last that for some things, it was simply too late.
Not an apology, not a belated gift, could ever bring back what had been lost.
Three years later, winter came to Gray Harbor again, covering the city in snow.
I sat by the laboratory window with a cup of hot coffee, watching the flakes fall.
These past three years, I had done well for myself.
I finished my undergraduate degree on a full scholarship.
I joined my advisor’s wolf-form recovery research project.
I published two papers in professional journals.
After the student protection period ended, Morningwatch formally invited me to stay.
I earned full pack membership through my research credentials and service record.
My status belonged to me alone, dependent on no mate and no family.
I was no longer the girl in the storage room who had to gauge everyone’s mood before she was allowed to speak.
In the lab, everyone knew I was steady.
Quick to respond, and able to handle the pressure that came with wolves losing control.
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number from the Cedar Ridge territory.
“Paloma, it’s snowing in Gray Harbor.”
“When are you coming home?”
I’d gotten too many messages like that over the past three years.