I'd never been shown much affection as a child, or as a young adult, or hell, ever. So these strange...sensations that were running amuck through me were wrecking a havoc in my mind and I wanted more than anything to fight them, to push them away. But fate demanded another story. It wasn't love. That much I knew. But there was something that was between him and I, something I can't ignore. It seems that this reaction to the imprint is...unusual for the female to feel connected this way. Of course it's screwy. How can it not be?

I stood in shock, watching my father, the man I had been trying to see as a better person than my mother had portrayed him as. But this? All the doubts I'd held as a child came rushing back, the sense of dread was overwhelming. I ignored Underidge's low growl when I first came to his side. As much as he was a grump, and a sourpuss to boot, he'd have to deal. Fate shoved the two of us together, and not much was bound to rip it apart. I looked back and forth between father and the girl who had apparently, escorted Underidge home. I watched the expression on father's face, his gaze darting to me and Underidge. He demanded an answer from Underidge. And when he moved, I fought back the instinct to move alongside him, my gut twisting at sight of his bloody form. Underidge spoke to father, but my head was still reeling from the facts that had been spoken.

I listened as she too then spoke, and I shook my head, standing, my lips twitching as my eyes narrowed at my father. "You. You ordered this?" I felt like puking as I spoke the words, feeling as if my soul was recoiling within me. I stood beside Underidge, not aligned with his shoulders, but not too far behind him, my eyes straying to his form, looking to see how he was holding up. I don't know what I'm supposed to do here, but at the same time, I cannot fathom being anywhere else at this moment in time. My eyes darted back to my father. "You ordered an attack on someone as faithful to you as he is? How could you?" I spat, bringing up a facade of anger and hurt, hiding the fact that in reality, I felt as if everything had been an act.

I shouldn't feel this way, he hadn't been in my life for such a long time, but to know that my father was responsible for the wounds that had been inflicted onto my imprint's body, I didn't think I wanted to know much more.