The Blackwood stronghold rose from the cliffside like a monument, its steel towers cutting into the pale winter sky. Below, the ocean crashed against the rocks, but up here, everything was still. Ordered. Controlled. Powerful.
I took a step forward, my boots crunching on the gravel, and immediately felt the weight of my own hesitation. Every instinct I had spent years sharpening screamed that I didn't belong here. That I would be turned away.
Ethan walked beside me, silent but steady. His presence was comforting, but it wasn't enough to chase away the tight knot in my chest. Ahead of us, Julian moved with measured grace, scanning the perimeter with eyes that missed nothing. Adriana stayed slightly behind me, protective in a way that didn't push or restrict, but that made it clear: she was watching.
The gates opened without a sound. No alarms. No soldiers. No hostility. Just recognition.
I froze.
There, in the center of the grand marble hall, stood my parents.
Father first. Tall, composed, every line in his face carved by years of control and responsibility. His hair was more silver than I remembered, but his posture—strong, commanding—was exactly as it had always felt in my memories.
My mother beside him, poised and elegant, but her eyes… her eyes softened the moment they landed on me.
A wave of fear hit me: what if they didn't see me as their daughter anymore? What if they saw me as the scared, hardened girl Catherine had made me?
And then… my mother ran.
The world slowed. My heart thumped so loud it nearly drowned out everything else. She reached me, wrapped her arms around me, and for a moment I froze. The instinct to recoil, to protect myself, to survive, was hardwired. But her warmth, her scent, the familiarity of her embrace, pulled at something buried deep inside me.
"I thought—" My voice broke, catching on the words. "I thought you didn't come because—"
She pulled back slightly, framing my face in her hands. "We never stopped coming," she said softly. "You were taken somewhere we could not reach."
Taken. Not abandoned.
Behind her, my father stepped forward, slow but deliberate. "I am sorry," he said. Not for losing me, but for not being able to protect me. That distinction hit harder than I expected.
My legs felt weak. I wanted to fall to the floor and stay there forever. Instead, I took a shaky step back.
And then I saw them. My brother and sister — twins, taller, older, but unmistakably mine. My brother's gaze was cautious, wary. "Hi," he said quietly.
"Hi," I whispered back, my voice barely above the echo of my own heartbeat.
Julian, Ethan, and Adriana remained nearby, silent, respectful. They weren't hovering, weren't assessing, weren't guarding. They were simply… present. Witnesses to the family reunion.
My mother brushed a strand of hair from my face. I hadn't realized I was trembling until she touched me. "You don't have to be strong here," she whispered.
And that—more than any shield or weapon—terrified me. Strength had been my armor for so long. If I let it go… what would be left?
I instinctively stepped back, creating space. My mother noticed, but her expression softened instead of hardening. "We have time," she said. "No expectations. No pressure. Just time."
Time. The word echoed in my mind like a lifeline.
I looked around the hall—the polished floors, the silver crest above the entrance, the sense of legacy in every detail. This place was powerful, untouchable. And yet, standing here, I felt fragile. Human.
"I'm not the same," I admitted quietly.
My father met my gaze steadily. "Neither are we."
Something in that moment shifted. I realized they had grown too. They had fought battles I couldn't imagine, built a world of protection I was only just stepping into.
Adriana moved closer, gently but firmly. "She hasn't eaten properly in days," she informed them, like a calm observer reporting facts.
Immediately, my mother took charge. "Prepare something light. And tea."
Julian, finally relaxed enough to lean against a pillar, gave a small, almost teasing grin. "See? No interrogation. Just food."
My brother smirked faintly. "You look like you could use it."
I rolled my eyes automatically, and in that small motion, the tension loosened. The room wasn't filled with expectations or fear. It was filled with… family.
I realized then, standing in the middle of my own blood, my own history, that I had never truly been alone. Not in the way that mattered.
They hadn't treated me like a weapon. They hadn't stepped aside to see what I could do. They had stepped in front of me. Protecting. Waiting. Patient.
My mother leaned down, fingertips brushing my face. "You're home, Alexandra," she said softly.
And for the first time in years, I believed her.
I didn't know yet how to live here, how to belong, how to trust completely. But for the first time, I wanted to learn.
For the first time, I was not Lexi.
I was Alexandra.