Chapter 151

Rachel POV

I thought Lindy was dead when Art appeared before me holding her limp body in his arms.

Blood dripped from her hair onto the marble floor and she was completely silent as he lay her on the loveseat beside my sofa.

"Is she dead?" I asked, the words bursting out of me as if I were breathing fire, "What happened? Why is there so much blood?"

Art shook his head at me, leaving the room to stalk towards the kitchen. He was clearly on a mission; I stared at Lindy long enough to make sure her chest was rising and falling with the movement of breath.

She was alive!

"Lindy?" I asked, leaning over the edge of the sofa to try to touch her leg where it was extended in my direction, "Lindy, can you hear me? Is she injured, Art?"

Art carried a wet cloth in his hand and a mixing bowl filled with water. He didn't answer me, instead sliding his hand under Lindy's neck to support her head before dropping it into the bowl of water.

"What are you doing?" I yelled.

Was he trying to drown the girl? Seriously! I had never seen him be so rough before. He scrubbed the cloth through her hair and I noticed blood and---other things floating in the bowl.

"Oh my Goddess," I whispered, "That's not hers. Whose is it, Art? Who died? Is my father dead? My father is dead."

Heat rolled over me in waves. I felt as if I were on fire and I knew something was wrong, but I refused to bring it up until I had to since I needed to believe my daughter was doing just fine.

Richard Campbell had been no one to me before I'd learned my origins. I had only known the man long enough to discover he was manipulative, a liar, and probably corrupt enough to try to murder my mother for her Alpha House status.

Patrick Flores had been a liar, a cheat, and a conman; I hadn't improved on my father by gaining Richard Campbell in the role.

Somehow I was still sad. Crushed even. I was crying for the man as if he'd been the answer to my prayers for a different father when I'd been a girl trying to raise my little brother without our mother to help.

I knew Richard Campbell wouldn't have been any better of a father to me or Ethan than Patrick Flores had been. They were both corrupt. They were both morally bankrupt.

They were both dead.

Panting, I wiped at the tears on my face, surprised by how hot my cheeks felt even to my own hands, "Art, I need you to tell me what happened. I'm having a hard time here. I'm hot. Very hot. And I keep getting overwhelmed with my emotions. Talk to me while you take care of her, okay?"

"What do you want me to say, Rachel?" Art flicked his gaze over to me for a moment before immediately going back to rinsing out Lindy's hair in the mixing bowl, "Richard Campbell held Lindy hostage then blew his brains out with a .45 Magnum rather than face justice for his crimes. He let slip enough for me to get a lead on Elena. That's all there is to it. I just don't want Lindy to wake up with the man's brains in her hair."

Sobs shook me as I gave into the urge to cry. I could tell Art was being as kind to me as he could be under the circumstances, but he was tired.

I think we were all worn out with the nightmare which was my life.

Elena Campbell needed to be found for more than being my mother. She was needed to be the Luna for Moonglow Pack. Lindy couldn't take the role and I was bound to Moonrise Pack because of my bond with Tyler.

The alternative would be to designate my daughter for Moonglow and that would happen over my dead body.

No one was taking my daughter away from me. Ever. I was going to be a better mother, a better parent than mine had been. I would put my daughter first.

Art wrung the water from Lindy's hair -there was still a pink tinge to it- then got back up with the bowl. He went back towards the kitchen so I assumed he was getting more water. Lindy was out cold regardless.

"Thank you for taking care of Lindy," I said as Art strode back into the room once more with the mixing bowl in hand.

"I'm not doing it for you," Art said, kneeling by Lindy's side to rinse her hair until the dark strands were clean.

"I know," I said, trying to get myself under control, "I'm not totally self-centered, you know?"

"Everything has been about you since I met you, Rachel. It isn't about being self-centered. It's about being the center of everyone's attention whether you want to be or not. Lindy will wake up and know she has to explain to you. Her focus will be on you. Adam is reporting to Tyler. Both their focus is on you. Everyone is focused on you."

I cried because I knew Art was telling the truth. I just didn't know how to change things or make things more fair to Lindy or my mother or even my child. I hadn't asked to be at the center of things. I hadn't chosen this for my life.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Art snorted, shaking his head to try to get his hair off his face, "You can't take responsibility for something you didn't ask for or choose. You don't have to be sorry. I'm just asking you to realize: not everything is about you even when it seems to be."

Nodding, I watched him care for Lindy for a few more moments. Art left the room with the bowl of dirty water; Tyler and Adam came inside from the driveway.

"Tyler! Did they tell you what happened? My father shot himself?" I asked, hoping to get something which calmed me more from my mate than what I had learned from the Alpha Inspector.

Tyler sat beside me on the sofa while Adam stood awkwardly beside the coffee table. He couldn't meet my eyes and I could tell Adam had seen more than he'd wanted to at the meeting with my father.

Leaning into Tyler, I pressed my hot face against the cool skin of his throat, asking, "What happened? Tell me. Please."

Tyler cleared his throat, but it was Adam who spoke.

"Campbell pulled a gun. He held Lindy in front of him like a shield. Windsor told him he knew your mother was being held in an asylum. He mentioned the man named Peter. That seemed to be too much for him. He shot himself instead of Lindy. We had no chance to stop him," Adam finished.

I could hear the apology in his voice and wondered if he was apologizing for being unable to stop Richard Campbell's suicide or because he hadn't been the one to pull the trigger.

Would anyone mourn the loss of this man? Would Lindy? Was I mourning him?

I couldn't even understand my own emotions.

"I need to borrow a computer with internet access," Art said as he came back into the room.

I watched him dry his hands on a kitchen towel before wrapping it around Lindy's wet hair. I could tell she was still out of it by the way he maneuvered her head without any resistance or assistance from her.

"Are you sure she's going to be okay?" I asked.

Adam offered a MacBook to Art which he'd gotten from the side table. I had been using it to check email and work on my song compositions. I had honestly forgotten it was even there.

"As sure as I can be given I only think she's out from shock. I'm not a medical professional," Art pointed out, tapping away at the computer's keys.

Tyler and I exchanged looks before I gave into the urge to curl up against my mate. My whole body felt so very hot; Tyler gave me some relief from the heat coming off my skin even though he ran hot himself.

"What are you doing now, Windsor?" Tyler asked.

"Found them!" Art said, pumping a fist into the air as if he had wrestled through a major enemy, "I got a name from Dear Old Dad. I found who I believe to be Lindy's parents. They had a daughter. They registered her as deceased as an infant. I'm willing to bet they gave her to their Alpha."

"What?" Lindy muttered, sitting up with a hand to her forehead.

The towel around her hair fell to the loveseat and she looked at it, blinking owlishly as if she'd never seen a towel before.

"We found your parents!" I said, "Isn't that great?"

"Daddy took me from them. Daddy knows best. I don't want to meet them," Lindy said.

None of us knew what to say to that.