Chapter Five
VANESSA
I DON’T THINK I’ve ever moved so quickly before, and I pray I don’t trip as I round the tight corner that leads to my office. I take the turn a bit wide and barely avoid running into a guard, but he’s a demon and jumps out of the way well before my reflexes have me adjusting my steps.
“Sorry!” I say, continuing forward.
He probably thinks I’m weak and clumsy, which, while accurate, isn’t exactly the perception I want the guards to have of me. Either way, it’s a problem to worry about another day.
I’m running late.
It’s been a long day, and while I love it when the women stop me in the hallway to talk, sometimes it makes me painfully late.
Another guard steps out of my way, already laughing. “Vanessa’s in turbo mode today!”
Todd is one of the only guards I’ve grown to enjoy being around during the two weeks I’ve been working out of the Wrath facility, but even he isn’t going to slow me down. Not today.
I ignore his joke, desperate to get to my office before Echo does.
Another guard offers a smile as I pass by. I’ve met everybody who works here at this point, and they’re all friendly. I’m making a genuine effort to learn every face and name in the facility, and I think the females appreciate that I’ve scheduled one-on-one time with each of them.
Facility managers usually hold group sessions, but I want to provide an environment for women to voice their concerns more intimately. My office is always open, and having individual meetings shows that I genuinely care. I’m not just in this for the paycheck.
I’ve already got a notebook full of ideas and improvements we can make, and thankfully, most are small and easily doable. The females here don’t want much, but I believe the things they feel are lacking are reasonable to get for them.
I just hope Aziel will, too.
He pops in for a minute or two most days, usually just to make sure the place hasn’t burned down, but there hasn’t been time to sit down and discuss the specifics of what I’d like to do. I had to go through his assistant to get a monthly check-in penciled into his calendar, but that’s not for another week.
Even then, it’s only for fifteen minutes.
That will be a point in and of itself to discuss. If we want to make timely decisions, I need him to dedicate more time to the facility—or hire somebody who can.
From what I understand, this was originally Charlotte’s job, but the rumor floating around Wrath is that Aziel and another one of her males are refusing to let her work. Everybody’s quiet about it, but it seems this happens every time she falls pregnant.
I’m not too fond of it, but I’m doing my best not to judge. I would never be happy in a relationship where my significant other controlled my life so completely, but to each their own. If she wants to be an incubator, that’s her prerogative.
That doesn’t change the fact that Aziel is too busy to be doing this, though, and we need a dedicated person to oversee the facility. There’s only so much I can do, and there’s not enough time to sit around and wait for Aziel to approve my proposed changes.
I just need to find a way to express this without sounding rude.
Aziel seems reasonable, but my fear of men makes speaking on sensitive topics like this hard. A voice in my head tells me he’ll punish and hurt me for making him angry, and it’s nearly impossible to ignore sometimes.
I push open my office door, grimacing when I see Echo sitting in the chair opposite my desk. She’s doing something on her phone, but I don’t look at the screen.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say, stepping into the room.
“It’s not a problem.” Echo puts her phone away. “How are you feeling? I know this has been a hard few weeks for you.”
I shrug, not sure what to say. Echo’s been beyond patient with me, and she’s gone out of her way to keep me and Chev apart. Aziel’s remained true to his promise and Chev hasn’t been allowed to step foot on the property, and Echo’s been coming to Wrath to meet with me instead of making me come to the headquarters.
I was finally beginning to move past everything with Chev when he popped up on the TV two nights ago, his damn face restarting all the progress I’d made. I can’t get his image out of my head, and he’s all I can think about when I lie awake at night.
Word has spread that he’s found his mate, but nobody knows it’s me. They also know she’s a rehabilitated female and he scared her away, and it’s getting a lot of press. Half the people hate him for having been rough with his mate, and the other half couldn’t care less. They think it was a misunderstanding and his mate should forgive him.
They think I’m a bitch for turning down the almighty Chev.
I disagree.
Mammon has even taken it upon herself to issue a statement. She and her followers are calling Chev names I feel uncomfortable repeating.
It makes me feel bad for him, which isn’t an emotion I want to have. Pity is dangerous, and this distance between us has been good. I don’t think Chev is a bad person, and I’m able to recognize that his actions during our meeting were motivated by panic and fear.
He wasn’t trying to show me his penis when he lifted his leathers, and he didn’t even seem to realize it was out until he saw my fear. He was overwhelmed and frantic, and I don’t think he deserves to be persecuted so intensely for it.
I don’t know how the details of our encounter got out. I sure haven’t told anybody, and I highly doubt Aziel or Chev would. If I weren’t so afraid of being named, I’d do my best to correct the news outlets that speak so poorly about him.
My belief in the rehabilitation system is unwavering, and I don’t want this unfortunate event to hinder all the fantastic work the shifters have been doing. They’ve saved the lives of millions of females, mine included, and it’s shocking how easily the news channels have turned against them.
Mammon must have significant connections.
“I’m feeling okay,” I tell Echo, finally answering her question. “I’m adjusting.”
I’m painfully aware that Chev is her brother and anything I say to her may get back to him. I need to be careful with how much information I share.
My fingers twitch with the urge to check my phone and look up the most recent articles written about Chev. It’s hard to ignore his existence when his face and name are plastered everywhere, and my self-control is proving to be nonexistent.
I found myself looking at photos of him while I was in bed last night, and I’m disgusted with the direction my thoughts took me. I haven’t felt arousal in years, but the mere images of him had me clenching my thighs with need.
I even caught myself trailing my fingers along my legs, an action I’m horrified about. Distance is supposed to help me forget Chev, not make me fantasize about his touch and body.
“I appreciate you checking in,” I tell Echo. “I’ve learned a lot these past two weeks, and everybody here has been kind.”
Echo smiles, looking pleased. “I’m thrilled to hear that.”
I wonder what she thinks about this whole Chev situation, but I highly doubt she’d give me an honest answer. Echo is painfully diplomatic.
I should consider scheduling an appointment with my therapist. I thought I could handle this on my own, but I fear I’m beginning to spiral. Every thought somehow revolves back to Chev, and it’s only getting worse.
I haven’t seen my therapist in months. I stopped going shortly after moving to the female community. I didn’t want to use up resources others need so much more than I do. There are only so many trained trauma professionals around, and with the sudden influx of females, they’re stretched thin.
I know my therapist will make time for me if I need it, but I’m hoping I can avoid it for a bit longer. The shifters keep records of everything, and I’m sure Chev and Echo are closely monitoring me. I don’t want them to see I’ve contacted my therapist and think I can’t handle my job.
“And you’re getting along well with Aziel?” Echo asks. “I know he can be a bit…particular.”
I shrug. “He’s fine. Busy, but fine.”
Echo doesn’t look surprised to hear that. I’m sure it’s not the first time it’s been commented on, and I doubt it’ll be the last.
“Good.” Echo brings her hands together in a quiet clap. “Was there anything you wish to discuss with me? I have nothing pressing, so I’m all ears.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Everything is good here.”
Echo pauses, giving me a moment to change my mind, before standing. Her visits are always brief, probably because of how busy she is. I doubt she meets with all the facility managers like this, and I’m sure I’m getting special treatment because of my connection with her brother.
“I’ll be off, then,” she says.
“It was great seeing you.” I rise and walk her to the door. “Thanks for stopping by.”
She leaves, and I rush to eat lunch before my next meeting. There have been some concerns with the guards’ proximity to the bathrooms, which is a problem I can fix without Aziel’s permission.
The women want the guards to stand farther down the hallway, which is an easy solution. I paid a visit to the particular bathroom earlier today, and I must admit the guards stand a bit too close for comfort.
I’m sure they can hear everything happening inside the toilets, which is precisely what the females would like to prevent. Nobody wants their bathroom habits to be overheard, and it’s understandably causing a bit of stress.
“Shit!” I hiss, choking on my food.
My throat burns as I struggle to clear it, and I pat my fist against my chest several times. I’ve been loving cooking for myself, and I found several cookbooks inside the kitchen I’ve been working my way through. The shadow who cleans my home also keeps my pantry stocked with the best ingredients.
I feel like royalty.
A small part of me wonders if I’m getting this treatment because I’m Chev’s mate, but I’d like to believe it’s because Aziel’s naturally a generous person. The demons, specifically the Wraths, are rumored to go above and beyond with their facilities.
Everybody knows it’s because they feel guilty for not saying anything to help the females when they first discovered the cause of the decline, but they’ve never been asked directly about it. After meeting Aziel, I don’t think I’d ask. He’s easily one of the most intimidating men I’ve ever met, and everybody says his two other demon mates, Gray and Silas, are the same.
It makes me feel bad for Charlotte, but that’s not my relationship to dissect.
I finish my food with only a few minutes to kill, and I curse myself when I can no longer resist the urge to look up Chev. It feels like there’s a new article written about him every hour, and I torture myself by reading every single one.
The story hasn’t changed, and I find myself uncontrollably angry as I read the cruel words. They label him a fraud and say he’s undeserving of his position, all of which I disagree with. A few articles even call for him to step down and let either Mammon or Echo take over his position, and when I come across those, I have to set my phone on my desk and take a few deep breaths.
I know it’s the mate bond making me feel this way, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to argue every little thing these reporters incorrectly say about Chev. Not caring about my trauma or fear, it urges me to seek him out.
The mate bond is fully convinced he’s the one person who will fix everything for me. I wish that were true.
As much as I love the idea of finding love, I’ve long since accepted that it’s not in the cards for me. I’m too broken for those emotions, and the best thing I can do for myself and the world around me is to focus my efforts on helping other women.
It gives me purpose and keeps my mind busy, which helps to quiet the raging anxiety constantly threatening to consume me.
I glance at the clock. I needed to leave two minutes ago, but I click on another article instead. This one’s got a video attached to it, which I can’t possibly ignore.
One more, then I’ll go. Just one more.