Chapter Eighteen
“I’ve never been concerned about my anal virginity before,” Huxley shudders as the door opens. Dax becomes the newest addition to the mattress.
“I seriously doubt that. You’ve lived with Garrett long enough,” Dax chuckles under his breath. Finally, the glimmer of worry leaves Hux’s chocolate brown eyes, and he concedes with a small smile. His blonde waves slip through my fingers as he twists to see Dax.
“How are they?”
Dax’s arm slips around my body, cradling me close. “Axel’s the same. Garrett is being insufferable. Made me spoon feed him so he didn’t have to let go of Axel’s hand.” Dax leans against my shoulder.
“We should be with them,” I decide, trying to move. Dax keeps me rooted in place, slowly shaking his head.
“Garrett thinks it’s best that we’re not all crowding Axel when he comes around. Not here.”
Hux snorts and returns to stare at the ceiling. “And all it took was major surgery for Gare to finally start putting Axel first.” I scowl, jerking my thighs beneath his head.
“Hey, they’ve come really far lately. Just because Garrett isn’t professing his love from the rooftops doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.” A stilted silence follows where we clearly agree to disagree, a joined heavy exhale bringing the three of us back into a relaxed huddle .
Like the rest of the morning since Wyatt permitted himself entry into the bedroom, he has returned to pacing, lost in thought. He doesn’t seem to want anything other than to keep me in his sights. Maybe he has visions of me tying together bedsheets and abseiling out of the window after my moment of weakness last night.
“Wyatt,” I call out, ceasing his steps. He flashes his green eyes my way, the mask of indifference firmly in place. “Are you going to talk to us today, or are you just going to wear track marks into the carpet?” I’m not sure he will actually listen to me, but I’ve decided there’s no point tiptoeing around. I might as well see if he’s going to continue opening up or revert back into himself again. Dax and Huxley go perfectly still, watching our newfound dynamic play out.
Wyatt exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders giving way as he leans back against the window frame. His gaze drifts to the glass, his reflection distorted by the pale light filtering through. “I’m… struggling,” he admits at last, the words heavy, as if dragged out of him. His posture sags, the usual air of command slipping away like smoke. “Normally, I can step back, remove myself from the situation, and see it clearly. But this time, I’m stuck. I don’t know how to protect you from Fredrick if he changes his mind, or how to protect Axel from his mom, or if we’ll ever truly get either Axel or Garrett back. I just don’t know what to do.”
My chest tightens at the sight of him like this. Uncertain, vulnerable. It’s a side of Wyatt I’ve never seen before, and judging by the way Dax’s and Hux’s brows shoot up, they haven’t either.
“Where do we go from here?” Wyatt’s question hangs in the air, not directed at anyone, but it’s a question that demands an answer. The room is silent, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on all of us. No one speaks because no one knows what to say. We’re all grappling with the same truth. We’re out of our depth. But sitting here, wallowing in uncertainty, isn’t going to help anyone. I take a deep breath and set my jaw.
“Let me get dressed.” I pat Huxley’s shoulder to shift his head from my thighs. “We can’t make any decisions until we know what we’re working with.” He shifts up onto his elbows with his lips slightly parted.
“You want me to go back out there?” There’s a slight hitch in his voice, and I feel Dax twist away to hide his sniggering. As hilarious as I’m sure it is to watch this ‘Top Knot’ come onto Hux, it’s not going to help me navigate the mansion until Axel is able to leave.
“I’d like it if you came with, but I’m not going to force you.” His brown eyes search mine for a moment, his hesitation clear in the way he swallows. I lean in and press a light kiss to his cheek. “I won’t let anything happen to your anal virginity. There’s strength in numbers,” I wink. Hux leans his face into mine, breathing in my skin and strength.
I clamber over Dax, rooting through the pile of clothes Wyatt left heaped on the bedroom floor. I would have folded them, but Dax appearing in the doorway last night, dripping with water droplets and giving me those ‘ fuck me ’ eyes took president. As if he knew I needed the distraction, his mouth and his good hand worshipped every inch of my skin until I was panting and begging for him to fill me.
Licking my lips at the memory, I pull out some sweatpants and socks, helping myself to Dax’s duffle to fill in the rest. First matter of business, washing or acquiring fresh clothes. He kneels beside me, handing over a pair of brightly colored boxers and a sweatshirt. My heart stutters when I turn the material over in my hands, revealing the lacrosse team’s logo for Hollowbrook. Meg’s .
“I thought wherever we found you, you might want it.” He smiles faintly, a small curve of his lips, and I can feel his presence beside me, steady and grounding. My fingers tighten around the soft fabric, and I force myself to swallow the lump rising in my throat. Dax doesn’t push. He just lets me sit with it for a moment before he stands and moves toward Huxley, who’s groaning as he swings his legs off the mattress. I gather the clothes and excuse myself to the bathroom to quickly shower and dress.
When I return, the three of them are waiting, hungry eyes dragging over my body as if I’m not wearing the baggiest of clothes and my hair is thrown up messily. I never did manage to slip into the heiress role. Wyatt breaks eye contact first, pushing off the window frame. Dax reaches for my hand, Huxley’s arm rounds my shoulders, and Wyatt trails behind as we move around the mansion, cataloguing each open room. Upstairs doesn’t present anything other than guest bedrooms, lavish bathrooms, and a few unused offices that I presume were Axel’s dads.
As we reach the lower level, the noise increases. Conversations, laughter, movement, all coming from the left of the grand foyer. We head right first. This side of the mansion is untouched, seemingly for appearances only. The formal living room is purely white with gold accents, each piece of furniture perfectly angled towards large bay windows facing the back gardens.
Beyond this, we find a library, an elegant dining room, a ballroom that Wyatt hastily moves us away from, and the entrance to an underground wine cellar gleaming with vintage wine bottles. Before long, we’ve arrived back at the foyer and face what I have decided are the living quarters.
Guys and girls around our age pace the halls, all smiles and flirtatious looks. This living room has a distinctively different feel, swarming with energy. It’s cozier in here, oversized leather couches and mismatched pillows, a massive TV mounted above a stone fireplace currently playing some car racing game. The scent of freshly baked pastries wafts through the air, mingling with the laughter and overlapping voices of the group sprawled across the space.
An expensive coffee table is piled high with snacks, while someone strums a guitar near the window. A few heads turn as we enter, curious eyes scanning us briefly before they return to their conversations. No one seems particularly interested in us, yet the vibe in the room feels oddly territorial, like we’re treading on unspoken boundaries.
Dax’s grip tightens on my hand, his body language protective as his gaze sweeps the room. Wyatt stays behind, silent but watchful, as we move between the groups of people. Escaping without incident to pass the kitchens, laundry room, and a number of storage cupboards, we find more people in both a games room and a home theatre.
Despite Huxley’s warning, I wasn’t prepared for how many of them there were. The uniforms he spoke of are nowhere to be seen. Instead, a sea of fitted tees, crop tops, short denim shorts, and jeans pass by, designer labels on most. We finally reach the end of the house, stepping into a conservatory. The glass walls are lined with potted plants, a distinct winter chill seeping in through the cracked rear door. On that breeze, travels the scent of smoke and weed from those hovering outside.
“Huxley!” a man calls from behind. Hux’s arm tightens slightly around my shoulders. “You missed all the fun.” I turn, although his hold tries to prevent it, to see a lean man approaching. His smile is all teeth and charm, his earlobes stretched with circular plugs and a piercing glints between his brown eyes. Upon his head, dark, wispy hair has been pulled into a top knot. There he is. Extending his hand to me, his eyes sparkle as I accept it, despite the rumble in Huxley’s chest. “Or perhaps you were having some fun of your own. Who is this beauty?”
“She’s absolutely none of your business,” Huxley drags me a step back to sever the connection of our hands. Wyatt and Dax grumble something to the same effect, and Top Knot grins wider.
“Has he always been a selfish lover?” He gestures his head to Hux, earning himself a stern glare. I meet his boldness head on and smirk right back.
“Yes,” I laugh. “I’m Avery, and you are?”
“Taylor,” he replies smoothly, offering a mock bow that brings him eye level with my chest. The action does not go unnoticed. Huxley spins me sharply, only his large hands on my waist stopping me from toppling over. Dax and Wyatt instantly close ranks, their broad shoulders blocking Taylor’s view.
“What are you doing, Swan?” Hux whispers, his face pinched. I reach up to smooth the frown out of his brow.
“Recon. We can’t protect Axel if we don’t know what’s happening around here.”
“Which involves you flirting?” Hux bites back, his fingertips twitching against my sides.
“I literally shook his hand and told him my name. I’ve flirted more with Mrs. Russell, the elderly librarian.” I narrow my eyes, looking up at him with steely determination. “We’re strangers in a house they clearly have the run of, and we don’t need to make any more enemies. Someone is going to have to play nice.”
“Fine,” Hux bites out after a tense pause, his jaw tightening. “I will.” I raise a brow as he releases me and rounds the two acting as our bodyguards. Taylor is still standing there, his grin in full effect. Not that Wyatt will let me get within arm’s reach of him again. His arm bands around my waist, holding me back as Huxley plants himself directly in the way.
“Relax, big guy. I’m just being friendly.” Taylor holds up his hands in mock surrender. His tone is light, but his eyes flick to me again, their gleam suggesting otherwise. “Avery’s off limits. Got it. But you,” Taylor reaches out to drag his index finger down the center of Huxley’s chest, “ you should come hang out with us next weekend. House rule, Sunday is Fun Day.”
“Good to know,” Hux replies, although I can hear his teeth grating together. Taylor retreats with lingering looks over where Wyatt’s arm is band around my middle and gives me a wink before he disappears from the room. The three around me exhale heavily. I shake my head, breaking free of Wyatt’s hold. I suppose I forgot that their ease with each other doesn’t mean they aren’t still possessive and jealous.
Heading out of the conservatory with the intention to head back upstairs, the clicking of heels against the marble catches my ears. I turn my head just in time to see Sharon disappearing around the corner with a man, a stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck. My feet are moving instantly, and the guys are quickly racing behind. It’s easy to follow that clicking sound through back hallways we’ve yet to explore, halting in an office with tropical canvases instead of windows.
Sharon is leaning against a large desk in a tight skirt and a cropped blazer. Her hair is slicked back into a perfect ponytail, jewelry dripping from her ears, neck, and fingers. She is hitching a perfectly shaped brow at the doctor sitting in front of us.
“Give it to me straight, Marcus. How long until I can get rid of him?”
“I’d be interested to know as well,” I permit my own entry, shadows filing in behind me. The doctor peers over the high back seat and clears his throat.
“I, um, I can’t discuss Mr. Barrett’s care with anyone except his guardian,” the doc stammers. Wyatt strides around the room, placing himself a few feet from Sharon. His sharp, green eyes pierce the room, his stance strong and powerful. The mask of indifference slips to reveal an air of authority. He’d make a ruthless businessman.
“I’m Axel’s guardian. Answer the question. How long before I can get him out of here?”
Hux, Dax, and I fully enter the room, adding to Marcus' unease. He pulls the stethoscope free from his neck and tugs at his navy sweater, looking to Sharon for instructions. She sighs and nods, lifting a hand to inspect her nails.
“Well, it’s hard to say. There’s no telling how weak his muscles are or the effects his mind will have in relation to his delayed responsiveness. Not to mention the trauma his lungs have suffered. Any labored breathing, panic attack, or crying could induce more strain, making the healing period longer.” Sharon snorts to herself, but our eyes narrow on the middle-aged man, ignoring her completely. The Doc taps a thumb on his trousers and relents. “Hypothetically, if Mr. Barrett were to wake today, perhaps he could be ready to move elsewhere within a week. But it all depends on-”
My mind fades out. A week, minimum, depending on what state he wakes in. I raise a hand to my forehead, trying to breathe through the rush pounding in my ears. A week, minimum, that I could possibly get out there and start searching for Meg. What might she be subjected to in that time, and how much can she endure? Dully, I realize my back is being rubbed, and I lean further into Dax’s side.
“Why is he asleep in the first place?” I interject sharply into whatever conversation is happening around me. “Surely at this point, alarm bells are ringing.” Marcus blinks a few times, caught off guard, and scratches his chin in thought.
“There are a few possibilities,” he begins, his voice carefully measured. “It could be a prolonged reaction to the anesthesia, though that’s less likely at this stage. Another possibility is that his cerebral metabolism has been affected. It’s uncommon given the nature of his injury and surgery, but not entirely out of the question.”
“And the other option?” Huxley huffs, his frustration palpable as he moves closer to Wyatt. Dax and I step in, taking the silent stance of Axel’s real family. Marcus hesitates, his gaze flicking between them all.
“Axel isn’t waking up simply because he doesn’t want to.” The words hit like a punch to the gut. A sharp silence fills the room as the weight of the statement settles over us. Huxley’s jaw tightens, Wyatt’s hands ball into fists, and my heart twists painfully in my chest. Dax remains close, stroking circles over my back and whispering into my ear that it’s going to be okay. I don’t see how he can remain optimistic, but I’m thankful that he is.
The doctor stands to leave, revealing the truth of his size. He rivals Huxley’s height, although that’s where the similarities end. Marcus’ size is not toned muscle, but that of a man who stress eats and spends longer typing up reports rather than treating patients. His hair is dark, although thinning, and there are white tufts in his five o’clock shadow. Sharon dismisses him with the instruction to keep her informed, leaving the five of us in a stare-off in her office.
“So this is how it’s going to go,” she says, her voice laced with a subtle edge I immediately don’t like. “The students will be going back to college this evening, and my husband returns home once they’ve left. He isn’t currently aware of the situation we’ve found ourselves in.” Her eyes flick to Wyatt at his low hiss. I feel that same sentiment. “I trust you can all handle yourselves discreetly and stay out of the way when needed.”
“And when would that be?” I set my jaw and tilt my head to meet her pale eyes. Sharon pushes off the desk to round it, settling into her leather chair. She assesses us all with sharp scrutiny.
“You can have the run of the mansion during the week. Our Butler, Evans, will see that you have whatever you need. However, I run events every Friday night with high-profile guests who value their anonymity. Don’t be present during this time, and we won’t have any problems.”
Events . A dull thud of my pulse beats in my ears. She means the auctions that she started with Axel and has not only continued but built upon. The hoards of students, the high-profile guests. This is a fully fledged organization.
“Good to know,” Wyatt replies coolly, his tone nonchalant, but his posture remains rigid. “You don’t have to worry. As soon as Axel is ready, we’ll leave and you will never-” Wyatt takes a step forward, “ever-” he presses his fists against the wood, “see him again.” Sharon’s gaze lingers on him for a moment before a cruel smile spreads across her face.
“Excellent.”
Wyatt shifts back, reaching for my hand on instinct. I don’t even know if he’s aware that he’s clutching onto me and dragging me out of the door, but Sharon sees it. Her eyes spark to life, taking in the hands gently pressing against my back, the way I’m caged in by possessive muscle.
As we slip out of the office and back into the lively halls, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder. The energy in that room felt stifling, dangerous like a powder keg waiting for the right spark.
Sharon isn’t just a monster. She’s a black widow in more ways than one, weaving silky threads of manipulation. Anyone who dares to step too close will become entangled and trapped, and what’s worse is that they’re enjoying it. They’re encouraging her, dulled to the venom she seeps. It’s no wonder Axel has struggled with nightmares of her for so long or that Huxley was jarred this morning.
Blinking up at Wyatt, I squeeze his hand, grounding us both as his jaw tightens, a storm brewing behind his green eyes. “We’ll keep him safe,” I promise, my voice steadier than I feel. Wyatt doesn’t answer, but his grip softens slightly, a silent promise passing between us. An understanding that neither of us are running from this. We’re going to do whatever it takes to look after Axel and keep us all together.