After I arrived back at the base, I could feel a sense of relief wash over me. I knew Damon would be fine, reassured that they would eventually be returned to the safety of the French castle once they had fully recovered. As I stepped into the base, the familiar hum of activity filled the air, mingling with the clacking of keyboards as I updated our files on the computer system.
The names of my fallen teammates, their lives tragically cut short in the line of duty, stared back at me from the screen. With a heavy heart, I input their information, noting their monetary compensation and printing a list of their grieving relatives.
In an effort to bring some solace to their families, I ordered flowers and gift cards, a small gesture to show our support during this difficult time. Our dedicated team had managed to retrieve the bodies of the fallen from the battlefield, ensuring that there would be someone to mourn in the coffin at the upcoming funerals, sparing their loved ones the agony of an empty casket. With a heavy heart, I left the base, knowing that this trip to Lake Lanier would not be a peaceful one. It was a journey burdened by guilt, as I was the reason behind it all.
Driving through the serene landscape, memories flooded my mind. I couldn't escape the weight of responsibility, the weight of those names I had carved out. A small asterisk followed each name, marking them as the ones who had perished because of me or by my own hand. The trip lasted three long weeks, during which I sought solace by speaking to every grieving relative, every family I had unintentionally robbed of their loved one. I withheld the painful truth of their demise, only offering reassurance that it had been quick and painless.
Amidst their accusations, I accepted the blame, bearing it silently in my heart. They deserved to express their anger and grief without restraint. Some of them, however, didn't blame me. Instead, they wanted to be a part of our organization, to join the fleas. They understood the risks involved, and I directed them to begin our stringent evaluation process. So much had changed since the inception of the fleas. As I drove back to the base, I pondered the journey, reflecting on how it had evolved over time.
In the early days, trust came effortlessly, extending a chance to anyone who wanted to be part of this mission. But now, suspicion clouded my every interaction, a necessary precaution to safeguard against infiltrators and spies seeking to exploit our organization and protocols. The process of becoming a flea had become arduous and rigorous. Everything had changed so dramatically.
News reached me that Damon had once again left, seeking solace with others. It felt like a cruel reminder that perhaps finding companionship was not meant for someone like me, burdened with the weight of leadership. Losing an entire team on a mission was never easy or ordinary, and this loss hit me hard. I tortured myself with countless scenarios, desperately searching for a way I could have saved even a few of them. But this time, no matter how much I wished, no solution presented itself.
I am an immortal, unkillable damn resilient creature but human, but humans can't withstand even one day when Krycheck really works them through, this I knew from experience as we had saved previously same Krycheck victims and most of them ended up in different asylums or other facilities to be taken care of, and those who had had little something left in them, killed themselves more than once. So that would have been the fate of my friends. We had a kind of vow and motto. "It is better to die free than live broken." At least the death of my teammates had been quick and relatively painless.
So no Damon to talk to, no Adam to talk to. So much for the reunion, I decided to take a minor break and go to my French vineyard again, just to be. After a mission like that, you want to tell someone, to talk, but Damon, well, he'd made his choice.
I knew the fleas had told him roughly what had happened and yet he was picking the women before me. I was not sure did they told him I killed my own team. But that, my pain, my work, was not important to him. I was nothing to him but a burden. When I'm such a pain in the ass to deal with. So is Adam. He didn't call and didn't contact me either. I don't know if he still had his little pussy or not. If that heat had ended. So much for him being my second in command.
I couldn't tell Jarod because I shared no more mission information, and I didn't see the point. I even considered calling Jake and telling him, but he had his own family, and I didn't want to burden everyone. So I developed an additional protection for myself, a new thin layer around myself that would help me withstand everything.
That armor is still on me. I haven't given it up. No matter how much time has passed, I can't give it up. That armor helps me to withstand everything. It's helped me for decades. What that armor protects, I'll probably never tell anyone. My pack has gotten me to tell my story. As I type these words, they will learn what had happened, but my feelings, my experience, I keep it locked away. My burden, my guilt, my choice.
No one in my pack had ever made this kind of decision. Because Damon well he had been a strong and powerful Vampire lord most of his existence. Fear and obedience had established the loyalty of vampires for him. He had never founded his own organization or saved others.
Mariella was part of God. Life and death never touched her and she is a princess of this pack the whole time. The one who has been protected from all the nasty in the world so she can have a good time with Damon and be happy.
Adam and Charles, have been lone wolves, so to speak, and even Adam had his pack. They lived in their own lives, and Adam lost them. But he had never killed them, anyone, them.
I, myself, was the leader and founder of my organization for well over 336 years if I count all the iterations of fleas that I had made. Those years shaped me, much more than I could have ever thought of, so many losses, not enough victory. and I am the alpha female of my pack. I have here my responsibility too. Even though I had saved so many, sometimes it feels like nothing when I remember those who I have lost. Yet, even though I write this book, I am still a flea. I have my organization; I do go on missions, not anymore alone, but now I have my pack with me. Whenever they feel like it. Me being a leader, well; it depends on whether or not my Vampire Lord husband is around. He has some serious issues nowadays with my leadership.
I was in France for a month and decided to return to America. My French vineyard was lovely to be in, to recover and move on, to be Mimi. I collected grapes. made juice out of them jellies, and I baked, I lounged in the sun. I swam in a lake. At some point, I might buy a castle again, but then it's always pretty expensive, and when you're rich, you learn to stay rich. Adam, at one point, talked about getting Charles to help me with my finances, but Bran blocked it.
At least for now, since Charles handles his pack's finances, he doesn't want to burden Charles too much. Not by any means. I'd go around the state and go through my safe deposit boxes, then visit a local farm, or several. When Pack didn't want to be with me fine by me, I could live on my own and have a good time without them.
I flew to America, and the first thing I'd do was go to the Alabama house and drop the girls off. We spent there a day before going on the shopping trip. We planned to splurge and spend money on a car. Now we'd buy a car again and go on a tour. First, we went round the house, and Mirella had found the house papers somewhere. This was quite a nice-sized house, but a very big plot and not much done with the yard.
She said, " Did you know this house has a lot of building rights on it? I mean this plot is huge and we could easily build here whole new section here. A new wing of sorts. Just for us girls. "
I said, "I didn't know. I've never looked at the papers of any house. It could be a fun project though, but I am not sure what our pack leader thinks of that. But at this time, I am not sure if it would even bother him too much. "
My voice was bitter and angry. I tried to remind myself that we were supposed to have a good time, not be bitter bitches because of the lustful fucking machines of this pack.
That fact clearly left Mirella pondering, and she went out for a walk.
I showered and changed. Now again, I didn't want to be a flea. I wanted to be Mimi, and it seemed at times that the two had merged more than I would have liked. It was hard to think why Damon was behaving the way he was. Why he didn't wait, call, or text? The guilt wasn't the only reason.
The shed session had ended ages ago. I was fine; I had saved him and nothing. He had been told by fleas that I was on missions, so maybe he knew better that I was not available since fleas had died and he knew I had plaques to be carved. Maybe I would have been too messed up for him.
I knew he'd meant every word when he'd said I was a pain to deal with, a pain in the ass, and more of a burden than a wife even though I tried. That had been Damon, not Damien. I had smelled his passionfruit well enough. When the things that made me difficult to manage were out of my hands, they were the fault of the pharmaceutical companies, which is probably why I was so pissed off because I couldn't help it.
I couldn't make my metabolism calm down so I could be in better shape. I could not always curb my need for treats, and I had no control over the fact that I felt no hunger. I had no idea what was good for me and what not; I had a guide made by Damon, but there were still so many ingredients that hadn't gone to that guide.
And then, let's say like those blueberries, they are eaten in moderation, but how it affects the rest of my diet if I eat those blueberries, can I eat anything else less ideal for me, or it is just half a deciliter of blueberries, and mere wagyu beef for a week, nothing else because of those blueberries. I Thought and reeled things in my mind as I took a long and luxurious, cool shower, dressed in a nice cook dress as it was summer in here and quite warm too.
The shower did the trick, and I got dressed. My dress was silk on the hem and satin on top. It was sleeveless, with a bell hem that reached my knees, and it was white with pink and yellow flowers on it. I had bright yellow heels and my hair, blonde hair, was just out of my eyes with the help of a headband.
My hair was also long and spiky, straight, shiny, and in good condition. The three of us went car shopping. We had a great time. As there had never been many talking wolves at a car dealership, let's just say we got some attention. Mimosa loved to talk and chat while I and Mirella drank some coffee that they offered us. Mimosa chose the perfect car for us.
Mirella was not in cars, she talked about that building rights and those wings too, how wonderful it would have our own living space where no little pussy ever come or no fucking parties would happen there, how we could decorate it for ourselves, do perfect room design from the start what kind of rooms we have and how many, what materials we would use on floors and walls, the windows, everything, we would build our own house from the bottom up. Nothing would be impossible to come up with, like blood rooms, girl's fun rooms, and whatnot.
Eventually, my loyal magical fighting vampire wolf decided and found us a perfect car. And the bright yellow Ferrari that Mimosa chose, was a magnificent car to drive. I'd got the GPS set up, and we went for a drive. First up would be some local farms and we had a fridge to fill up and food to be made.
I hadn't bothered to say anything to the whole pack. They'd had a party, and god knows what they'd had the opportunity to call and get in touch. Samuel certainly knew where I was, and I guess he had told everyone where I was and what I was doing. But no contact whatsoever, so we move on. We can have a good time, just us girls too.
Our first farm was a poultry farm. We drove again rather eccentric, in a nice sports car along a gravel road, but I didn't mind. People watched us with awe, and some of them shook their heads to feel pity for my car, which got minor scratches when sharp gravel crunched under our tires and some of it flew and hit the paint.
But this was a splendid car to drive, and I was not so vain that the car had to be pristine all the time. Besides, I had several car repairmen and painters in the fleas, and they would take care of all and any damage that might happen once they put up my storage system in this car, too.
What was perfect was, was the weather. I was in a good mood and I wanted for opportunity to go to the farm and choose some delicacies for me, Mimosa, and also for Mirella.