Haunted by Secrets (Shadowed Souls #3)

Chapter Twenty Two

“Garrett?” My name is called distantly. I mumble something incoherent and shift in my sleep. Axel’s voice comes again, bleeding through the haze.

I jerk upright on my front, looking around the room wildly in panic. The dying sun is fading into hues of red and orange beyond the window, and as I adjust, my eyes settle on Axel. There’s an amused hook to one of his eyebrows, those dazzling hazel eyes filled with mirth, and his lips slanted up into a smile. For a split second, I forget where we are. Who we are even. I’m just a guy being woken by a cute guy that causes my heart to flutter. Then, with the beeping of monitors increasing, reality hits.

“What’s wrong? Do you need something?” My fingers impulsively twitch, drawing my attention to beneath the covers where my hand is wrapped around Axel’s balls. He chuckles and nudges my shoulder.

“As much as I appreciate the massage, I really don’t want to know what it feels like to have an erection with a catheter inserted.” I shudder at just the thought, slowly retracting my hand.

“Sorry,” I roll onto my back to stare at the ceiling. “I must have gotten carried away. It’s been a long, long few weeks.” Huffing, I force my eyes shut. Great job, Garrett; he’s barely lucid, and you’re throwing your sex drive in his face.

“I didn’t mean like that, I just… there’s been a lot of emotions to wa de through and you know it’s not my strongest trait—” Axel winces as he reaches over and pulls on my far shoulder, rolling me onto my side to face him. That same understanding smile is waiting to greet me, his handsome face far too accepting.

“You don’t have to wait for me, you know. If you want to go and let Avery relieve you, it’s okay. I totally get that you have needs.” I’m already shaking my head.

“I will wait for you,” I mutter stubbornly. I must fail at hiding the rare glimpse of vulnerability I can sense rising to the surface. Axel’s brow furrows, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek.

“Gare. Everything is going to be fine now. I won’t leave you again,” he promises, but it’s impossible to believe him. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen; none of us do. Doctor Marcus is due to give Axel a full checkover, but even then, what if he misses something? The smallest complication might send Axel straight back to the hospital. Clearing my throat, I nudge his hand from my face, quickly shutting down my stupid fucking emotions.

“You mind if I call on Avery to sit with you for a while?” Axel nods, sorrow dawning in his eyes as I shoot upright to leave the bed. Shoving my legs into a pair of blue tracksuit pants, I grab the matching hoodie from the arm of a nearby chair and leave the room, blood rushing through my ears too fast to hear Axel’s protests.

The irony isn’t lost on me. I’ve sat by his side day and night, refusing to let anyone else near him, praying for him to wake and listen to all of the ways I care about him. Now he’s back, and I can’t get away quick enough. Because now it’s time to show up, to be the person I’ve been promising myself I can be for him. And what if I fall at the first hurdle? What if I just keep fucking up until there’s no part of Axel left to save?

Rapping my knuckles hard on the next bedroom door along the hall, Avery answers, a stoic Wyatt at her back. His green eyes cut through me, assessing and judging like he always does. In direct contrast, Avery smiles and reaches for my head.

“You okay, Gare? Do you need something?” I shake my hand loose, taking a step back from the pity that pinches at her face. Yeah, I need everyone to stop being so fucking nice.

“Can you sit with Axel for me? I’m going to get the Doc.”

“Is there something wrong with him?” Avery’s large eyes widen even more, her feet already shuffling into the hallway. I give her a wide berth, pressing myself against the opposite wall.

“No,” I sigh, withholding the rest of that sentence. There’s just something wrong with me. “I just need some air.” Air sounds a lot better than space . Nodding, Avery tucks her golden hair behind her ear and heads towards Axel’s room. Her fluffy socks are silent on the carpet, her knock soft before she slips inside. Knowing he won’t be alone lessens a sliver of the guilt building in my chest, but then Wyatt steps forward and continues to look me up and down.

“Is there something you want to say, Riot?” I clench my jaw. Unlike my usual, light tone, the nickname is hissed in mockery. Wyatt raises a singular brow but says nothing, pocketing his hands and watching me leave. I encounter the Doc in a large office he seems to have been given the run of. Currently, he’s reclined on a chaise lounge with a book in his hands.

“Aren’t you being paid to do something?” I kick the door with a harsh bang. He doesn’t flinch, regarding me with poised interest. I suppose a doctor should be used to keeping his cool in heightened situations, but he seems a little too relaxed for my liking.

“It certainly isn’t to take orders from you,” he replies. Setting his book aside, Marcus plants his loafers on the floor, standing to be eye level with me. “You should ice that bruise.” My eyes slide aside, ignoring both him and the pulsing ache that has taken root in my cheek.

Not my proudest moment, taking a hit when Axel was laid up in bed, but the other guy came off worse. Every student in the room was staring at me like some kind of God, and he happened to be the one who asked me how he could get some time alone with Axel to pick his brains. As if being molested has become something these weirdos strive for. My fist responded before my mouth could.

I guess I’m still glutton for punishment, the same way I was as a small boy who stubbornly waited for someone to care for him, despite the long-term effects it would cause. Before he woke, I was ready for Axel to be mine, ready to gut myself at his feet and let him piece me back together. I wanted to be exactly the kind of man he’s been begging me to be all these years. But now that both he and Avery have confessed their love for me, it’s become too real. Too fragile to handle with my reckless hands .

Remembering Marcus is still standing before me, his knitted sweater a shade of hunter green today, I roll my tongue over my teeth.

“Can you give Axel a once-over? Check his vitals and all that. Surely it’s best we get him up and restore his strength as soon as possible.” Marcus waits, staring evenly until I grunt. “ Please .”

I exit the room, giving him the space to manoeuvre his hulking size through the doorway. Once satisfied, he heads for Axel’s room while I sweep down the staircase, on the hunt for my next fight. Now that the students have left, I thought there would be no one left to cause conflict with. I thought wrong.

Turning the last corner before the kitchen, I barrel straight into Sharon. She collides with my chest, stumbling back on those ridiculously high heels with a startled " oomph ," clutching her Louis Vuitton bag like a shield. Her eyes dart to my crotch for a split second before snapping back to my face. I can feel my lip curling in a snarl, a guttural growl simmering in my chest like a panther advancing on its prey.

Slowly, a smile carves across my face, pulling painfully at the welt on my cheek. I’ve been waiting to catch her alone, and now I’m spiraling through hatred and self-doubt, it’s the best possible moment.

I step forward, crowding her against the wall. My hands slam down on either side of her head, caging her in. Her eyes widen, the flicker of fear I’ve been dying to see flashing across her carefully composed features. I lean closer, my breath ghosting over her face as I let the rage sharpen my voice.

“I’ve been waiting years to confront you, Sharon. To make you pay for everything you’ve ever done to him.”

From within the curtain of her straight, dark hair, Sharon’s face twists into an infuriating smirk, but it doesn’t hide the way her throat bobs when she swallows. “If Axel ever wanted the auctions to stop, all he had to do was ask.”

The casual venom in her tone makes my hands curl into fists against the wall. Her manicured nail traces up the center of my chest, scraping along my jaw, sending a shiver of disgust rippling through me. My lungs burn with the effort of keeping myself steady, the words in my head screaming louder than ever.

He was fourteen. You were supposed to protect him, not exploit him .

Somehow, I manage to grab onto the last thread of self-control within my soul to speak somewhat eloquently.

“If Karma doesn’t come for you one day soon, I’m going to flay you alive and roast you on a barbeque. Then I’ll force feed you to every single one of all your pedophilic friends that have ever laid a hand on Axel.”

A shudder ripples through her perfect, tailored pantsuit. The sight makes something primal in me stir, satisfaction clawing its way through my fury. I straighten, stepping back with the kind of smile that could haunt her nightmares, before turning toward the kitchen door. Sharon’s voice, sharp and poised, stops me cold.

“You’re worse for him than I ever was.” The words hit me like a blow to the gut. I whirl around, the fire in my chest reigniting.

“The fuck did you just say?” Sharon’s smug grin is back, her hand resting lazily on her hip like she owns the entire world.

“At least Axel always knew what I wanted from him. We had a transactional relationship.” She tilts her head, her voice dripping with mockery. “You’re dragging him along to prove something to yourself. He’s a passing novelty to you. So tell me, who’s the real abuser here?”

Before I can react, she spins on her heel, her ponytail whipping behind her. She strides away, her confidence slicing through the air like a knife. I stand frozen, my breath caught somewhere between wrath and disbelief. I can’t move, can’t think straight. Heat rushes to my cheeks, shame and rage battling for dominance.

How dare she?!

Red curtains my vision. I want to smash everything in close range and scream. To beat the living shit out of the closest possible person, feel their bones crack, and hear them beg for mercy until the beast within me is sated. Burn this whole mansion to the ground so that Axel can never be dragged back again.

But there’s a darker desire worming its way to the forefront, one that is purely selfish. I want to be punished. I want to feel the retributions of what I’ve failed to do. Keeping Axel safe, keeping the Souls together, and protecting my heart from this constant ache of not being good enough. It’s all too much to bear without an outlet. One that involves whatever pain it takes to root me back to reality.

The rage boils over, needing an outlet before I explode. My fist slams into the wall beside me, a burst of raw energy erupting from my knuckles. The impact reverberates up my arm—a sharp, jolting pain that should be enough to make me stop. But it’s not. Not even close.

I hit the wall again, harder this time, my knuckles splitting against the painted surface. The sting is intoxicating, a brief distraction from the hurricane in my chest. Another punch, and then another. The drywall cracks under the pressure, but it isn’t enough to drown out Sharon’s voice still echoing in my head.

You’re worse for him than I ever was. Who’s the real abuser here?

The words sting deeper than any wound I could inflict on myself, but I keep going. Each punch is a release, a fleeting reprieve from the guilt eating me alive. I can’t get the image of Axel limp and bleeding out of my head. He came to my aid and saved my damn life. I can’t punish the asshole who hurt him, but I can punish myself.

Blood smears the wall as my breath comes in ragged gasps. My vision blurs, my body trembling as adrenaline surges through me.

“Stop,” Wyatt suddenly growls, catching my fist in mid-air. I didn’t even see him approach, too wrapped up in the straightjacket of my own mind.

“I don’t want to stop,” I grunt, trying to twist my hand free. “I want to hurt.” Wyatt wrenches my arm backward. My other hand rises instinctively, but he moves faster, yanking me off balance with a forceful tug. My knees buckle, and I stumble, his arm hooking around my neck like a steel bar.

The fight bleeds out of me as he drags me away, each step disorienting. The coppery scent of blood clings to my skin, mixing with the dull ache spreading through my knuckles. I twist, trying to defy him in any way I can, but Wyatt doesn’t let up, steering me down the hallway.

The next thing I know, we’re in the gym. My back slams against a padded wall, Wyatt’s arm finally releasing its hold. I stagger, catching myself with both hands on my thighs, chest heaving as I struggle to catch my breath.

“You don’t want to hurt,” he says, standing firm in front of me. I glare at the floor by his socked feet, my hands curling into fists again. The pain that cuts through my hands doesn’t feel as sweet this time. Even so, my shoulders tighten, the impulse to lash out still clawing at me. “You just want someone to see that you’re suffering, and instead of pretending everything’s fine, you want them to tell you it’s all your fault.”

“Will you?” I risk a look up into his green eyes, sensing the spike of vulnerability within like a whip’s lash. I’m struck by the lack of anger in Wyatt’s features and stance, a lack of resentment in having to come and clear up my mess. Instead, Wyatt crosses his arms, his expression unreadable.

“No. This is Fredrick’s fault, and Nixon’s and Cathy’s and every other fucker that has been playing God with our lives. We’re stuck trying to clear up messes we didn’t cause and somehow expected to mentally survive it.” I look away, my jaw tightening. The gym feels too small, the walls pressing in around me.

“You can hit things if you want. Break your fucking hand, scream, and cry, but it’s pointless. Because when you go back upstairs, Axel and Avery will still be there, waiting for you. Relying on you to show up.” Wyatt sighs, releasing his arms to step forward. Next thing, his hands are on my shoulders, squeezing and releasing rhythmically to get my breathing to somewhat regulate. “It doesn’t have to be scary. Trust me, I spent years believing it was.”

I glance at him, the edge of his words piercing through the fog in my mind. I hate how broken I feel and sound, but I push through, desperate for the answers he’s offering. “How did you get over it?” Wyatt smirks to himself, casting a glance over my shoulder.

“I didn’t. But I’ve decided to stop running. I ran from Avery when she moved into the Manor, I ran from Cathy when I couldn’t bear to play nice anymore. I’ve been running from you guys at every sign of attachment.” His tone softens, and as he steps closer, I’m pulled into a willing hug from Wyatt Hughes. That’s how I know I’ve gone too far.

“It’s a shitty, lonely life, Gare, and it doesn’t have to be. The people upstairs deserve better. They need a reason to smile and laugh, and live. It’s our job to give it to them. So pick yourself up, think of a corny joke, and get back up there.”

I open my mouth to argue, but Wyatt shoves my head into his neck. He’s wearing his own orange hoodie for once, the mix of his and Avery’s scents blending seamlessly. A rogue blond hair drapes over the hood.

“Don’t do it for you, Garrett. Do it for them.” He pulls back to put me at arm’s length, his palms warm against my cheeks. His green eyes are more tender than I’ve ever seen them, his lips tilting into a small smile. “Go make them laugh.”

I drag a shaky hand through my hair, my breathing slowing to an even pace. The scent of blood and failure is thick, clogging my throat, but I nod, the motion almost invisible. Wyatt releases me and takes a few measured steps back. This is what he does, offers the right words and then rebuilds the distance to see what I do. Giving comfort and then space, as if I might shatter at any moment. Maybe I will. But not now. Not tonight.

“Thanks,” I mutter hoarsely, my voice rough like sandpaper. He doesn’t respond, just jerks his head toward the door.

The hallway feels quieter than it should as I climb the stairs. My injured hand shakes, gliding along the banister, leaving behind the chaos I’ve caused downstairs. I hesitate at the top landing, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. They’re waiting for you.

I step into Axel’s room, the faint sound of laughter spilling out before I fully open the door. The sight steals what little resolve I had left. Dax is sprawled out on the floor, cards fanned out in his good hand, grinning like a kid. Avery sits cross-legged by Axel’s bedside, her golden hair swaying as she pretends to consult Hux, who’s leaning over her shoulder with exaggerated seriousness. Axel is propped up against a mound of pillows, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. His hazel eyes meet mine as soon as I step inside, warm despite the way I left him, and his smile grows just a little wider.

“There you are,” he says, a little raspy, but his eyes are full of life for once. “Doc gave me the all-clear to start moving around and peeing for myself.”

Dax looks up at me from his cards and snorts. “Should have heard him squeal when the catheter came out. I’ve heard newborn piglets make less noise.” He jerks his head to the floor next to him with mock enthusiasm. “Come join us. I saved you a seat.” I force a smirk, my chest tightening and loosening in the same breath.

“What’s the game?”

“Blackjack,” Avery chips in, her blue eyes sparkling as she glances at me. “Me and Hux are acting as the house, so you’ll lose either way.” For the first time in what feels like hours, I laugh. Not much, but enough to feel the edges of my anger dull. I settle down beside Dax, brushing my knee against his in silent gratitude, and pick up the cards they dealt me.

“Remind me of how to play,” I nudge his shoulder. Looking between my two cards, Dax peers over and groans.

“Well, shit. You’ve already won.” Lifting his bandaged hand, he uses the metal splint in between his flattened fingers to point to the cards in turn. “It’s first or nearest to twenty-one wins. The ace counts as eleven and all face cards are tens. You’ve got one of each, so beginner's luck I guess.”

I shrug happily, sneaking a peak over at Dax’s hand. He’s got six cards, all of lower value but collectively adding to a total more than twenty-one. He sighs and throws them down. “I got greedy and went bust. It’s more fun when you bet with something.” My eyes shoot directly to Avery, who is already shaking her head at me.

“Don’t even think about it. I’m not about to play strip blackjack whilst Axel is too injured to get an erection.” My bald-headed lover chokes on his breath, grumbling that he can get an erection just fine, while Hux takes in the cards and deals again. Glancing between my friends, my family, the weight in my chest starts to lift. The world outside still feels heavy, but here, in this room and surrounded by them, I can carry it. For tonight at least, I can show up.