Wingless;

2. Safe Place

My hands trembled as I hesitated between pressing the doorbell and turning around. Will he accept me? I knew he loved me dearly, but he loved Mom more. What if he supported her? What if I had simply traded one battlefield for another?

Taking a shaky breath, I finally mustered the courage to press the glowing button. The sound echoed faintly inside, accompanied by shuffling footsteps. My heart raced as the lock clicked. When the door opened, relief washed over me, releasing the tension in my shoulders.

There he was, the one person who never made me feel like I was too much or not enough.

"God, I've missed you so much," I said, wrapping my arms around my grandfather, Alistair.

Alistair was more than just my paternal grandfather; he was my anchor and secret ally. He was in his seventies, but he still had broad shoulders and sharp eyes, and he carried himself with the same confidence that must have defined his youth. Some people mistook him for my father, and I could understand why. He hadn't slowed down, hadn't surrendered to age. Where others relied on their children, he stood strong on his own.

His New York apartment was a testament to that independence, every inch of it the product of his own relentless work, not inheritance.

But no matter how much comfort the place provided, I couldn't ignore one fact: Alistair never broke his promises. If Mom had already cornered him and he had promised to send me back, he would keep that promise regardless of the cost to him-or me. And that thought terrified me.

I wasn't going back. I turned them down. I refused to be sold into a marriage with a man who was older than my grandfather. They described it as a blessing, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It sounded like a life sentence to me.

"Mara, what are you doing here, baby?" Alistair asked, his voice thick with concern as he rubbed my back.

I melted into his embrace, allowing his steadiness to soak into my bones. This was exactly what I had been looking for.

Pulling away, I looked at him with a teary smile. "You look younger than last time. Don't tell me you're seeing someone?" I teasingly raised my brows dramatically.

He scoffed and pretended to be offended. "At my age? Please. The only lady in my life is the one in my coffee mug." His mock sternness crumbled into laughter, and I joined him, the tension easing a little.

We settled onto the sofa, the cushions sinking under his weight. His sharp gaze didn't give way as he leaned in. "Now, Mara. Why are you really here? My gut tells me this isn't a casual visit-and you know I'm rarely wrong." His tone was gentle, but it left no room for evasion.

I sighed, knowing that resistance was pointless. "Fine. I'll tell you everything. But you have to promise you won't automatically take Mom's side."

His eyebrows arched. "I don't take sides. I accept truth. Even if it hurts."

I clenched my jaw, hating that he was right. This was Alistair, inexorably honest.

"Then promise to fully hear me out before you make your decision," I said.

He gave me a single nod. "Go on."

So I did. I told him everything-how my parents had arranged my marriage to a stranger decades older than me, a man who saw me as nothing more than a transaction.

My throat felt raw after I finished. "So I had to leave, Ali. What options did I have? Am I such a disappointment to them that marrying me off to the highest bidder is their best option?" My voice cracked, revealing the emotions I usually kept suppressed. "Elizabeth and Rogan are their pride. What about me? I'm just a burden. A mistake."

His arms wrapped around me again, strong and secure.

"That's insane," he snarled. "How could Carin and Ryan stoop so low? I never forced your mother's hand; I always allowed her to choose. And yet she dares to bind her own daughter with chains I never put on her." His voice quivered with contained fury, making the air feel electric.

Tears threatened to spill. "What else can I do, Ali? They make me feel worthless. Don't I have the right to choose my own life? I just want the opportunity to create something of my own-my career, my future. But they keep trying to rip it away."

Alistair gently squeezed my arm to ground me. "Listen to me, Mara. You will not marry someone you do not want. Not while I am breathing. Do you hear me?" His voice was steel encased in velvet. "I'm glad you came here. From now on, you stay with me. Nobody, including Carin, gets to decide otherwise."

"Really?" My eyes stung as I looked up at him. "You're not mad at me for running away?"

"Mad?" He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "The only thing I'm upset about is your parents' foolishness. If anything, you were courageous. Besides..." His eyes softened. "I've been lonely without your grandmother. "Having you here is good for me as well."

When Grams' name came up, a wave of sadness ran through my chest. I miss her more than I can express. She had always been gentle, but she frequently sided with Mom out of habit. Perhaps if she was still alive, I would not have dared to come.

"Thank you, Ali," I whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Trying to lighten the mood, I added, "Anyway, tomorrow I'm job hunting. If you decide to kick me out, at least I'll have rent money."

He laughed heartily. "Throw you out? "You would have to drag me to court before that happened." He gave me a playful wink before standing. "Now, no more worrying tonight. You've had a long day. Rest."

"Which room am I taking?" I asked cautiously.

His apartment had four bedrooms, two of which were off-limits, the master bedroom where he and Grams used to sleep and the bedroom that was like a time capsule of her belongings. That left the kitchen-side guest room and the large one with the balcony, which I had secretly always admired. The thought of that balcony made me both excited and nervous. Someone daring-or reckless-could hop across to the neighbor's side. I silently hoped he would let me take it anyway.

"You can choose, but for tonight, use the balcony room," he said kindly. "I'll have the maid freshen the other one tomorrow, in case you want it."

"No need," I said quickly. "I prefer the balcony room."

As I gathered my bags, another worry struck. "Ali... what if Mom calls you?"

He gave me a sly smile, as if he'd been expecting that question. "I know how to handle Carin. She has forgotten that I raised her. She's still my child, no matter how grown she thinks she is."

The reassurance relieved a tightness in my chest. For the first time in years, I felt like someone had my back.

"Thank you," I whispered, hugging him tightly.

"Good night, my child," he said with a sincere tone.

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My gaze shifted to the sliding glass door, which I had been thinking about all evening.

Curiosity tugged harder than caution. Wrapping a shawl around my shoulders, I opened the door.

The air was cold and it bit my skin but I stepped out.

I leaned against the railing, closed my eyes, and let the night hold me.

Then movement drew my attention.

On the adjacent balcony, a man stood shrouded in smoke, his back to me. His posture was heavy, and his shoulders were taut, as if he were carrying invisible chains. For a moment, I thought he was going to turn. My pulse stuttered.

I quickly averted my gaze, staring out at the endless array of city lights, pretending I hadn't noticed him. However, the chill that had crept down my spine refused to leave.

I tightened my grip on the railing, closed my eyes, and allowed the icy wind to whip across my face.

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