Chapter 14
Layla's POV
Cameron stood at my window, his small hands pressed against the glass, watching the guards patrol the courtyard below. He'd been quiet all morning, too quiet for a boy who usually bounced off walls with energy.
"Mama, why is everyone talking about the ghost boy?"
I set down my teacup carefully, forcing my expression into something gentle. "What ghost boy, sweetheart?"
"The one who looks like Papa." Cameron turned from the window, his blue eyes confused. "Sarah at the kitchens said Papa has another son. A ghost boy who came back from the dead with his dead mama."
My fingers tightened around the teacup handle until I thought it might snap. The staff were gossiping. Of course they were gossiping. Cecelia's return was the biggest scandal to hit the pack in years.
"Come here, baby." I held out my arms and Cameron climbed into my lap, his small body warm and solid against mine. Real. Mine. "That woman, Cecelia, she's not a ghost. She's Papa's old mate from a long time ago."
"Before you?"
"Yes, before me." The lie tasted bitter but necessary. "She went away and now she's back, claiming she has a son."
"Does she?" Cameron's voice went small. "Does Papa have another son?"
I could lie. I should lie. But Cameron was nearly four years old, smart enough to piece together truth from the whispers around him. Better he heard it from me, shaped the way I needed him to understand it.
"She says so," I said carefully. "But you're Papa's son, Cameron. You're the one he raised, the one he loves. That other boy, if he even exists, is just a stranger."
"But everyone keeps talking about him." Cameron's voice wobbled. "They say he's missing and Papa is looking for him. Papa never looks for me like that."
"That's because you're safe here with me." I stroked his hair, the same golden color as Zeke's even if the genetics didn't match. "This woman is trying to trick Papa. She wants to take your place, make Papa forget about you."
Cameron's eyes widened. "She wants to replace me?"
"She wants to replace both of us." I let real fear bleed into my voice. "If Papa finds her son, if he believes that boy is his, where does that leave you? Where does that leave me?"
"But Papa loves us." Cameron sounded less certain now. "He said he loves me."
"He does love you, baby. But this woman, she's dangerous. She's going to try to turn Papa against us." I tilted Cameron's chin up so he looked directly at me. "We have to be strong. We have to show Papa that we're his real family, not some ghost from the past."
Cameron nodded slowly, processing this information the way children do, filtering it through their limited understanding of adult complexities. I could see the jealousy taking root, the insecurity I'd carefully planted beginning to grow.
Good. Let him be confused and hurt. Let him act out. It would only prove my point that Cecelia's return was destroying the stability we'd built here.
"Can I go play now?" Cameron asked.
"Of course, sweetheart. But remember what I said. Be careful around that woman if you see her. She's not your friend."
Cameron climbed down from my lap and ran out of the room, his little feet pounding against the hardwood floors. The moment he was gone, my gentle expression dropped.
They'd found the phone. The burner phone I'd been stupid enough to keep hidden in my jewelry box instead of destroying it. The investigators had torn through my quarters yesterday while I watched helplessly, unable to stop them without admitting guilt.
I'd seen the evidence bags. The phone. The bank statements showing the cash withdrawals I'd made to pay for information about Cecelia and her brat. The receipt from the private investigator I'd hired to track them down in Seacreek.
It was only a matter of time before they unlocked the phone and saw the messages. The coordination with the woman I'd hired to gather intelligence. The planning. The timeline of Golden's kidnapping.
I should run. Pack a bag and disappear before Zeke had me arrested. But where would I go? I had no allies outside this pack, no resources beyond what Zeke provided. And Cameron, I couldn't take Cameron without it looking like a kidnapping of my own.
My hands shook as I poured more tea, the liquid sloshing over the rim of the cup. Three years. I'd had three years of relative peace after Cecelia's death. Three years of being the closest thing to Luna this pack had, of raising Cameron in the palace, of believing that eventually Zeke would forget about his dead mate and see what was right in front of him.
Then she came back. Rose from the grave like some avenging spirit with her tragic story and her convenient son. And Zeke had looked at her the way he used to look at me, back before the war destroyed everything between our families.
A knock at my door made me jump. "What?"
One of the junior guards poked his head in. "Miss Layla, Master Cameron is in the south garden. He's upset and asking for you."
I set down my teacup and smoothed my dress. "I'll be right there."
The south garden was one of Cameron's favorite places to play. It had a small fountain and flowering bushes that attracted butterflies in the summer. I found him there now, his face red and streaked with tears.
"Cameron, what's wrong?"
"She's mean," he sobbed. "She said I was being a brat."
I looked around and spotted Cecelia sitting on a bench near the rose bushes. She stood when she saw me, her expression weary.
"What did you do to my son?" I demanded, moving to Cameron and pulling him against my side.
"I didn't do anything to him." Cecelia's voice was calm but I heard the edge underneath. "He threw rocks at the fountain and splashed water all over my clothes. When I asked him to stop, he called me names."
"He's a child," I snapped. "What did you expect? You show up here claiming to be his father's true mate, flaunting your supposed son, making Cameron feel unwanted in his own home."
Chapter 15
Layla
"I'm not flaunting anything." Cecelia took a step closer. "I'm trying to find my missing child. That has nothing to do with Cameron."
"It has everything to do with Cameron." My voice rose despite my attempts to control it. "You come back here after three years playing dead and suddenly everyone's falling over themselves to help you. Meanwhile, my son, the boy Zeke has raised since birth, is being pushed aside like he doesn't matter."
"That's not what's happening and you know it."
"Is it?" I gestured wildly at the palace. "Zeke barely looks at Cameron anymore. He's too busy chasing after your ghost child, proving he's some kind of hero who'll save the day. Where was this devotion when Cameron was a baby? When Cameron needed a father?"
Cecelia's eyes narrowed. "Maybe if Cameron was actually his son, things would be different."
The words hit like a slap. I felt my face go hot with rage and shame. "How dare you."
"How dare I what? Speak the truth?" Cecelia's voice stayed level but I saw her hands clench. "We both know Cameron isn't Zeke's biological child. The tests proved it. So maybe stop using that boy as a weapon against me when you're the one who's been lying to everyone for years."
"I did what I had to do to survive." The admission escaped before I could stop it. "After you died, after I lost my baby, I was broken. Cameron gave me a reason to keep going. Zeke gave me a home. Was I supposed to just walk away from that?"
"You were supposed to tell the truth." Cecelia moved closer, her presence somehow taking up more space than her small frame should allow. "You were supposed to admit that Cameron wasn't his instead of letting everyone believe a lie. You were supposed to not try to kill me in the first place."
"I didn't kill you." The words came automatically. "You fell. It was an accident."
"I didn't fall, Layla. You pushed me." Cecelia's voice dropped to barely above a whisper but somehow it felt louder than shouting. "You put your hands on my chest and you pushed me off that cliff because you wanted me dead. Because you wanted my place, my mate, my life."
Cameron had gone still against my side, his tears forgotten as he listened to us. I should have sent him away, should have protected him from this conversation. But part of me wanted him to hear it, wanted him to understand why I'd done what I'd done.
"You took everything from me," I said, my voice shaking. "Zeke was supposed to be mine. We were in love before the war, before our fathers tore us apart. And then he chose you. Plain, boring, adopted you. Do you know what that felt like? Watching the man I loved marry my sister out of duty while I had to smile and pretend I was happy for you?"
"So you tried to murder me." Cecelia's words were flat, emotionless. "That was your solution."
"You were supposed to just disappear." I hated how desperate I sounded. "Just fall and be gone and then everyone could move on. Zeke would grieve for an appropriate amount of time and then he'd turn to me for comfort and eventually, eventually things would be the way they should have been from the start."
"Except I didn't die."
"No, you didn't." The rage bubbled up fresh and hot. "You survived somehow and built yourself a nice little life in some backwater pack. You had Zeke's son, the heir I could never give him. And now you're back to ruin everything again."
"I came back to find my son." Cecelia's voice rose finally, some of that careful control cracking. "I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to see Zeke or you or this palace ever again. But someone took my baby and I needed help finding him. That's the only reason I'm here."
"How convenient that the kidnapping happened right when you needed an excuse to return."
Cecelia's expression shifted to something dangerous. "Are you suggesting I staged my son's kidnapping?"
"I'm suggesting that everything about your return is suspiciously timed." I knew I should stop talking, knew I was revealing too much, but the words kept coming. "You show up claiming Zeke has a son he never knew about, right when Cameron's parentage is being questioned. You have this dramatic story about being pushed off a cliff and surviving against all odds. You need Zeke's resources and protection. It's all very convenient."
"You're delusional."
"Am I?" I laughed but it sounded unhinged even to my own ears. "Or am I the only one willing to say what everyone's thinking? That maybe, just maybe, you're not the tragic victim you're pretending to be."
"What's going on here?" Zeke's voice cut through the garden like a blade.
I spun around to find him striding toward us, his expression thunderous. Behind him, several guards hung back at a respectful distance.
"Zeke, thank goodness." I moved toward him but he stepped around me, going straight to Cecelia.
"Are you alright?" he asked her, his voice gentle in a way it never was with me anymore.
"I'm fine." Cecelia didn't look at him, still staring at me with those cold eyes. "Just having an interesting conversation with your houseguest."
"I heard shouting from my office." Zeke's attention shifted to me and the gentleness vanished. "Layla, what did you say to her?"
"I was defending my son." I pulled Cameron closer. "He came to me crying because she was mean to him."
"She's lying, Papa." Cameron's voice was small. "I threw rocks and got her wet and she asked me to stop nicely but I called her a name because Mama said she's trying to replace me."
The silence that followed was deafening. Zeke's eyes moved from Cameron to me, and I saw the moment his expression changed from anger to disgust.
"You told him what?" His voice was dangerously quiet.
"I told him the truth." I lifted my chin, refusing to back down even as my heart raced. "That woman is trying to take his place in your life. Cameron deserves to know what's happening."
Chapter 16
ZEKES POV
The shouting from the south garden reached my office through the open window. I recognized both voices immediately. Layla's shrill accusations and Cecelia's measured responses that were starting to fray at the edges.
I was down the stairs and across the courtyard before I consciously decided to move. Something about hearing Cecelia's voice raised in anger made my chest tight with an emotion I couldn't name. Protectiveness maybe. Or guilt that she was dealing with Layla's poison at all.
The scene in the garden stopped me short. Layla stood with Cameron pressed against her side, using the boy like a shield. Cecelia faced them both, her clothes damp with water and her expression cold in a way I'd never seen during our marriage. Back then, she'd always softened when confronted, always tried to make peace.
This Cecelia had learned to bare her teeth.
"What's going on here?" My voice came out harder than I intended.
Layla spun toward me, relief flooding her face. "Zeke, thank goodness. This woman was attacking Cameron—"
"She's lying, Papa." Cameron's small voice cut through his mother's words. "I threw rocks and got her wet and she asked me to stop nicely but I called her a name because Mama said she's trying to replace me."
The air left my lungs. I looked at Layla, waiting for her to deny it, to explain that Cameron had misunderstood. But she just lifted her chin in that defiant way she had, daring me to challenge her.
"You told him what?" The words came out quiet but I felt my Alpha authority bleeding into them, making the nearby guards shift nervously.
"I told him the truth." Layla's voice shook but she held her ground. "That woman is trying to take his place in your life. Cameron deserves to know what's happening."
"Cameron is a child." My control was slipping and I didn't care anymore. "He doesn't need to be caught up in adult problems. He doesn't need his mother poisoning his mind against people he doesn't even know."
"I'm protecting him."
"You're using him." I moved closer to Layla, close enough to see her eyes widen. "You're using a little boy as a weapon in whatever twisted game you're playing. And I'm done with it."
The confrontation escalated quickly after that. Layla trying to justify her actions. Me ordering her back to her quarters under guard. Cameron crying because he'd never heard me speak to his mother that way before.
I kept Cameron with me after the guards took Layla away. The boy needed to understand what he'd done wrong, but more than that, he needed to know this wasn't his fault. Children shouldn't be weapons in adult wars.
We sat on one of the garden benches while I explained things as simply as I could. Yes, Cecelia was someone important from my past. Yes, she had a son who might be my son too. No, that didn't mean Cameron was being replaced. No, Cecelia wasn't trying to hurt anyone.
Cameron listened with the serious expression he got when processing difficult information. "But Mama said—"
"I know what your mama said." I kept my voice gentle even though rage still simmered under my skin. "But sometimes adults say things they don't mean when they're scared or hurt. Your mama is scared right now."
"Of what?"
Of losing her place here. Of facing consequences for attempted murder. Of the truth finally catching up with all her lies. But I couldn't say any of that to a nearly four year old.
"Of things changing," I said instead. "Change can be scary. But that doesn't make it okay to be mean to other people."
Cameron nodded slowly. "I'm sorry I called her a bad name."
"You need to apologize to Miss Cecelia, not to me."
"Okay." Cameron hesitated. "Papa? Do you love the ghost boy more than me?"
The question drove straight into my chest. I pulled Cameron onto my lap, hugging him tight. "I love you, Cameron. That hasn't changed and it won't change. The other boy, Golden, I don't even know him yet. But he's in danger and needs help. That's why everyone's working so hard to find him."
"Because he's your real son?"
I thought about lying, about softening the blow. But Cameron deserved honesty, even if the truth hurt.
"I don't know if he's my biological son yet," I said carefully. "But even if he is, that doesn't make you less important to me. I raised you. I've been there for every birthday, every scraped knee, every nightmare. That matters more than biology."
Cameron seemed satisfied with that answer. I sent him off with a guard to get cleaned up for dinner, watching his small figure disappear into the palace. The boy was innocent in all this mess. He didn't deserve to be caught between Layla's schemes and my mistakes.
I stayed in the garden after Cameron left, sitting on the bench with my head in my hands. Everything was spiraling out of control. Golden was still missing. The investigation into Layla was revealing layers of deception I'd been too blind to see. Cecelia was back in my life, close enough to touch but further away than ever.
And I was failing everyone.
Footsteps on the gravel path made me look up. Cecelia walked slowly toward the fountain, her damp clothes clinging to her frame. She looked exhausted in a way that went deeper than lack of sleep.
"I'm sorry about that," I said, standing. "About Layla and Cameron. You shouldn't have had to deal with that."
"It's fine." But her voice said it wasn't fine at all.
"It's not fine. Layla had no right to use Cameron against you. To poison his mind like that." I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. "I should have seen what she was doing. Should have stopped it before it got this far."
Cecelia moved to the fountain, trailing her fingers through the water. "You can't control everything, Zeke. As much as you try."
"I can control what happens in my own pack house."
"Can you?" She looked at me then, really looked at me. "Because from where I'm standing, things have been out of your control for a long time. Maybe they always were."
The words stung because they were true. I'd thought I had everything managed. Thought I could keep Layla content while maintaining order, thought I could honor Cecelia's memory while moving forward, thought I could raise Cameron and lead my pack without anything falling apart.
Instead, everything had fallen apart. I just hadn't noticed because I'd been too busy maintaining the illusion of control.
Chapter 17
ZEKES POV
The shouting from the south garden reached my office through the open window. I recognized both voices immediately. Layla's shrill accusations and Cecelia's measured responses that were starting to fray at the edges.
I was down the stairs and across the courtyard before I consciously decided to move. Something about hearing Cecelia's voice raised in anger made my chest tight with an emotion I couldn't name. Protectiveness maybe. Or guilt that she was dealing with Layla's poison at all.
The scene in the garden stopped me short. Layla stood with Cameron pressed against her side, using the boy like a shield. Cecelia faced them both, her clothes damp with water and her expression cold in a way I'd never seen during our marriage. Back then, she'd always softened when confronted, always tried to make peace.
This Cecelia had learned to bare her teeth.
"What's going on here?" My voice came out harder than I intended.
Layla spun toward me, relief flooding her face. "Zeke, thank goodness. This woman was attacking Cameron—"
"She's lying, Papa." Cameron's small voice cut through his mother's words. "I threw rocks and got her wet and she asked me to stop nicely but I called her a name because Mama said she's trying to replace me."
The air left my lungs. I looked at Layla, waiting for her to deny it, to explain that Cameron had misunderstood. But she just lifted her chin in that defiant way she had, daring me to challenge her.
"You told him what?" The words came out quiet but I felt my Alpha authority bleeding into them, making the nearby guards shift nervously.
"I told him the truth." Layla's voice shook but she held her ground. "That woman is trying to take his place in your life. Cameron deserves to know what's happening."
"Cameron is a child." My control was slipping and I didn't care anymore. "He doesn't need to be caught up in adult problems. He doesn't need his mother poisoning his mind against people he doesn't even know."
"I'm protecting him."
"You're using him." I moved closer to Layla, close enough to see her eyes widen. "You're using a little boy as a weapon in whatever twisted game you're playing. And I'm done with it."
The confrontation escalated quickly after that. Layla trying to justify her actions. Me ordering her back to her quarters under guard. Cameron crying because he'd never heard me speak to his mother that way before.
I kept Cameron with me after the guards took Layla away. The boy needed to understand what he'd done wrong, but more than that, he needed to know this wasn't his fault. Children shouldn't be weapons in adult wars.
We sat on one of the garden benches while I explained things as simply as I could. Yes, Cecelia was someone important from my past. Yes, she had a son who might be my son too. No, that didn't mean Cameron was being replaced. No, Cecelia wasn't trying to hurt anyone.
Cameron listened with the serious expression he got when processing difficult information. "But Mama said—"
"I know what your mama said." I kept my voice gentle even though rage still simmered under my skin. "But sometimes adults say things they don't mean when they're scared or hurt. Your mama is scared right now."
"Of what?"
Of losing her place here. Of facing consequences for attempted murder. Of the truth finally catching up with all her lies. But I couldn't say any of that to a nearly four year old.
"Of things changing," I said instead. "Change can be scary. But that doesn't make it okay to be mean to other people."
Cameron nodded slowly. "I'm sorry I called her a bad name."
"You need to apologize to Miss Cecelia, not to me."
"Okay." Cameron hesitated. "Papa? Do you love the ghost boy more than me?"
The question drove straight into my chest. I pulled Cameron onto my lap, hugging him tight. "I love you, Cameron. That hasn't changed and it won't change. The other boy, Golden, I don't even know him yet. But he's in danger and needs help. That's why everyone's working so hard to find him."
"Because he's your real son?"
I thought about lying, about softening the blow. But Cameron deserved honesty, even if the truth hurt.
"I don't know if he's my biological son yet," I said carefully. "But even if he is, that doesn't make you less important to me. I raised you. I've been there for every birthday, every scraped knee, every nightmare. That matters more than biology."
Cameron seemed satisfied with that answer. I sent him off with a guard to get cleaned up for dinner, watching his small figure disappear into the palace. The boy was innocent in all this mess. He didn't deserve to be caught between Layla's schemes and my mistakes.
I stayed in the garden after Cameron left, sitting on the bench with my head in my hands. Everything was spiraling out of control. Golden was still missing. The investigation into Layla was revealing layers of deception I'd been too blind to see. Cecelia was back in my life, close enough to touch but further away than ever.
And I was failing everyone.
Footsteps on the gravel path made me look up. Cecelia walked slowly toward the fountain, her damp clothes clinging to her frame. She looked exhausted in a way that went deeper than lack of sleep.
"I'm sorry about that," I said, standing. "About Layla and Cameron. You shouldn't have had to deal with that."
"It's fine." But her voice said it wasn't fine at all.
"It's not fine. Layla had no right to use Cameron against you. To poison his mind like that." I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. "I should have seen what she was doing. Should have stopped it before it got this far."
Cecelia moved to the fountain, trailing her fingers through the water. "You can't control everything, Zeke. As much as you try."
"I can control what happens in my own pack house."
"Can you?" She looked at me then, really looked at me. "Because from where I'm standing, things have been out of your control for a long time. Maybe they always were."
The words stung because they were true. I'd thought I had everything managed. Thought I could keep Layla content while maintaining order, thought I could honor Cecelia's memory while moving forward, thought I could raise Cameron and lead my pack without anything falling apart.
Instead, everything had fallen apart. I just hadn't noticed because I'd been too busy maintaining the illusion of control.
Chapter 18
Zeke's POV
"This fountain," Cecelia said suddenly. "This is where you told me about the marriage. About choosing me for the peace treaty."
I remembered. It had been late spring, flowers blooming everywhere, the air sweet with their scent. Cecelia had been so young, barely twenty, trying to look brave while her hands shook.
"You wore a blue dress," I said before I could stop myself. "You kept twisting your ring around your finger, the one your father gave you."
"I was terrified." She sat on the edge of the fountain. "I thought you were going to tell me you'd changed your mind. That you'd picked Layla after all."
"Would that have been better?"
She was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know. Maybe. At least then I wouldn't have spent six months falling in love with someone who didn't want me."
The admission hung between us. I moved closer, sitting on the fountain's edge beside her but leaving careful space between us.
"I was cruel to you," I said quietly. "I told myself it was duty, that I was doing what was necessary for the pack. But the truth is I was a coward."
"Yes, you were." No venom in her voice, just exhaustion. "You were a coward who hurt me because you couldn't admit you felt something you didn't want to feel."
"I didn't think I deserved to feel anything." The confession escaped before I could contain it. "After what my father did to yours, after the war that killed so many, I thought I deserved to be miserable. Choosing you was supposed to be my punishment."
"How flattering."
"That came out wrong." I rubbed my face, trying to find words that wouldn't make things worse. "What I meant was I chose you because I thought I could keep my distance. Thought I could do my duty without getting attached. But every day with you made that harder."
"So you pushed me away."
"So I pushed you away," I agreed. "Because admitting I cared about you meant admitting I'd been wrong about everything. Wrong about Layla, wrong about duty over emotion, wrong about who I was supposed to be."
Cecelia pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. She looked younger like that, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed anymore.
"I used to sit here after you'd leave for pack business," she said. "I'd imagine what our life could be like if you actually wanted me. If you looked at me the way you used to look at Layla."
"How did I look at Layla?"
"Like she was the only person in the room. Like nothing else mattered but her." Cecelia's voice went soft. "I wanted that so badly. Just once, I wanted you to look at me like I was important."
The words cut deeper than any blade could. I remembered those early months of our marriage, how I'd kept myself busy with pack affairs to avoid spending time with her. How I'd come to our bed out of obligation, left before dawn, spoken to her only when necessary.
I'd treated her like an inconvenience. Like something to be endured rather than cherished.
"I look at you like that now," I said before I could stop myself.
Cecelia's head snapped toward me. "What?"
"Now. I look at you now the way I used to look at Layla." My throat felt tight. "Maybe I always did and was too blind to see it. But I see it now, Cecelia. I see you."
"Don't." She stood abruptly. "Don't do this. Not now, not when Golden is still missing and everything is such a mess."
"When then?" I stood too, unable to help myself. "When are we going to talk about what's between us? Because there is something between us, even if we both keep pretending there isn't."
"There's nothing between us but history and a child who needs to be found."
"Liar." The word came out softer than I intended. "You feel it too. The bond. It's still there."
Her breath caught. We both knew what I meant. The mate bond we'd rejected three years ago, the one that should have died when I formally ended things. But it hadn't died. It had just gone dormant, waiting.
Now it hummed between us like a live wire, faint but undeniably present.
"It's not possible," Cecelia whispered. "Rejected bonds don't come back."
"This one did." I took a step closer and saw her body tense. "Or maybe it never really left. Maybe we can't kill something that was always meant to be."
"Stop talking like that." But she didn't move away. "We're not meant to be anything. We tried that already and it destroyed both of us."
"Then what do you call this?" I gestured between us. "This pull, this awareness, this constant orbit we're stuck in. If it's not the bond, what is it?"
"Unfinished business." Her voice shook. "Trauma bonding. Proximity during a crisis. Take your pick."
"It's more than that and you know it."
We stood there as the sun set around us, neither willing to close the distance or increase it. The air between us felt charged with everything unsaid, everything we were both too afraid or stubborn to acknowledge.
Finally, Cecelia spoke. "Even if the bond did somehow survive, what would it matter? You broke my heart, Zeke. You told me you wanted to be free. You chose Layla over me. That doesn't just go away because we're forced to work together now."
"I know." The admission hurt. "I know I broke something that maybe can't be fixed. But I need you to understand that letting you go was the worst mistake I ever made. Every day since, I've regretted it."
"That's not fair." Tears shone in her eyes. "You don't get to say things like that after everything that happened. You don't get to make me hope again when hope is what almost killed me the first time."
"I'm not trying to make you hope. I'm trying to be honest." I wanted to touch her, to wipe away the tears tracking down her face, but I knew she wouldn't welcome it. "Three years ago I was an idiot who threw away the best thing in his life. I've had three years to realize what I lost. And now you're here, and Golden is out there somewhere, and I'm terrified I'm going to lose both of you before I get a chance to make any of it right."
"You can't make it right, Zeke." Her voice cracked. "Some things are too broken to fix."
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