Chapter Twenty Four
The days pass in a haze, each one blending into the next as we make use of every corner of the mansion. The gym has become the guys’ second home, their grunts and thuds echoing through the halls as they push themselves harder with each session. Huxley stumbled upon an underground swimming pool the other day, and it’s been our hidden retreat ever since. The library calls to me most often, though I’ve also wandered into the games room once or twice, letting the sound of Garrett and Dax’s playful bickering pull me in.
At the start of the week, Axel could barely shuffle from his bed to the bathroom unaided, his movements slow and labored. Garrett flanked him on one side, his hands hovering protectively as Axel braced himself against the walls for stability. Each attempt drained him completely, leaving him to collapse into bed and sleep for hours until it was time to coax him up again to eat or try once more. It’s becoming easier for him, his breathing isn't as labored, but his progress is still painstakingly slow.
I’ve made a home of sorts in one of the guest rooms, stacking my nightstand with books pilfered from the library. Lately, I’ve buried myself in studies about the stigma of depression and anxiety in men. Not that I think I could use any of the strategies without the guys noticing, but the knowledge comforts me. If I can understand even a fraction of what they’re feeling, maybe I can help. Or at least not make things worse.
My nightly companion rotates. Whether there’s an official timetable or they play scissors, paper, stone, I’d love to know. Either way, it seems there’s an unspoken agreement that I only get one visitor per night, and unless I initiate otherwise, we stick to spooning.
As the week inches forward, Friday looms like a dark cloud on the horizon we’re all too aware of but no one wants to mention. It’s there, staring at me from the calendar on my phone, a reminder that we can’t outrun what’s coming. The students will return tomorrow afternoon, filling this house with noise and life, but with them comes the auction. The nightmare we’ve been trying to ignore will no longer be some distant threat. It will be real, pressing in around us.
Axel feels it too. His words are becoming fewer, and his silence stretches longer. He’s retreating into himself, bracing for the inevitable. And tomorrow night, this house will be alive with the very horror he’s been running from.
The butler has been keeping us updated with the few words he mutters here and there. Sharon, thankfully, will not be returning with her husband until late in the evening. Until the event is about to get underway. By then, we will have all retreated to the upper wing, our sanctuary away from prying eyes.
“Okay, break’s over,” Wyatt barks, clicking his fingers in front of my face. I blink up at him, lowering my phone, which has long since faded to black. I’d started with looking through photos of Meg but soon switched to the calendar app, counting the days since I’ve last seen her. I let her go on Christmas Eve, watching the car fade into the night, thinking she’d be safe. Believing that it was for the best. Wyatt clicks his fingers at me again, and I whack them aside, scowling.
“Alright, alright,” I huff, standing from my crouching position by the mirrored wall. The harsh lights beam down on the space Wyatt has cleared in the middle of the gym. Stepping into the center, I stretch my back and roll my shoulders. “I’m here.”
“Get into position,” he demands. I roll my eyes and place my bare feet at opposing angles to one another, lifting my arms in a half circle in front of me.
“Anyone ever tell you how bossy you are?” I catch a quick glance to Wyatt. He’s across the far side, sitting on a weight bench with his own phone in his hand. His green eyes are unfazed.
“You said you needed to feel productive, and what better way than to keep up with your dancing? Dax has already lost his scholarship; I won’t let you risk your future too.”
I heard about the call and the subsequent argument. For half of last night, I had Wyatt pacing around the room, venting out loud about how all of Dax’s hard work has been erased, then he tried to comfort himself with the fact that Dax could go back next year. The second half of the night, Wyatt spent it curled around me in bed, flinching in his sleep and murmuring that he needs to fix this. That he’ll fix everything. Hence why I’ve let him convince me to come to the gym and get back to dancing.
Wyatt taps the play button on his phone, a melancholy melody leaking from the Bluetooth speakers around the room. I inhale deeply, raising onto my tiptoes the best I can without the support of my ballet slippers. The music bleeds through my veins, blocking out the guilt, sorrow, and regret, leaving only the stiffness of my muscles behind. I arch my arms gracefully overhead, transitioning into a soft plié. The mirrored wall reflects my silhouette as I slowly spin, lengthening through each limb.
The space feels different without the familiar hum of the studio and the polished floors beneath my feet, but I pour my emotions into every step. A pirouette flows into a sweeping arabesque, my leg extending behind me as my arms stretch toward an invisible horizon.
Wyatt’s presence on the weight bench is something I’m both hyperaware of and determined to ignore. I move into a series of leaps across the cleared gym floor, but on the final one, my footing falters. The angle in which I land shifts my balance, my weight off kilter, and I stumble sideways. Before I can hit the ground, strong arms circle my waist, steadying me.
“Careful, Angel,” Wyatt barks just as harshly, but his eyes are a different story. Filled with concern and relief, the intensity of his gaze makes my pulse race. Planting me back on my feet, Wyatt doesn’t withdraw, his chest warm and solid inches from my face. I tilt my head upwards, my lips parting on instinct. A tremor rolls through my spine where his large hand delicately spans my lower back. The baggy tracksuit I’m wearing does nothing to lessen the contact between us, my hands gliding up his chest to his neck. Wyatt leans in at the same time, his lips a whisper from kissing me.
“Fuck me,” a voice sounds. “It’s true then.” My head whips aside, spotting a very pale Axel leaning against the doorframe. His entire body is shaking, and when he breathes, there’s a small rattle that follows.
“Axel! What are you doing out of your room?” I gasp. Wyatt doesn’t immediately release me, deciding to let Axel suffer under his glare for a moment.
“Why isn’t Garrett with you?”
Beads of sweat pepper Axel’s forehead, his eyes sunken and dark, but somehow he manages a smile. “The guys have been telling me you two are getting on. Some things need to be seen to be believed.” Reaching out his arm, he beckons me to cross the room and tuck myself underneath. My presence is just for show, while Wyatt is the actual muscle on the other side.
Slowly, the three of us navigate towards one of the unused living areas. Once we’ve reached a white sofa, Wyatt sits with a cushion on his lap and lowers Axel until his head is resting upon it. I take the end with his feet, carefully lifting them to slide underneath.
The entire mansion is like a show home, everything pristine and beautiful, yet without a single trace of character. White sideboards hug the edges of the room, and a shaggy rug fills the center to take the cold edge off the marbled flooring. Exquisite vases and ornaments fill the surfaces on the coffee table, mantel, and windowsills, each one containing flecks of gold. I wonder if young Axel was allowed in here or if he was kept locked in his room.
“So, why are you really out of bed?” I ask, filling the silence as we all spiral into our own dark thoughts. Axel sighs, licking his cracked lips.
“I love Garrett,” he starts. Wyatt gives me a strange look over Axel’s head. “But he won’t tell me what’s going on. I need someone to be straight with me. Please.”
“What would you like to know?” Wyatt responds instantly. Axel’s chest deflates with relief, his head lolling slightly to the side.
“Everything. What actually happened to me? Why am I in this damn hellhole? Where did you two go, and why are you no longer trying to spite each other at every turn?” Nodding to himself as if recounting the questions he’d be saving, something dawns on Axel’s face. He blinks his hazel eyes up at Wyatt. “Oh, and before we get into any of that, fuck you for your stupid note. I was in the frat house that night. You could have woke me up and explained what was happening before you disappeared.”
“You would have tried to stop me. Just how Avery would have if I’d given her any time to fight back.” Wyatt shrugs simply. As always, he doesn’t care to explain himself or ask for forgiveness. Wyatt will die upon the hill that he always knows best, no matter how others feel about his choices.
“That’s the most insane thing you’ve ever said,” Axel blows out a ragged breath. His walk down the stairs unaided has affected him more than he cares to admit. Swallowing hard, Axel’s brows pinch together tightly. “The guilt of losing Avery was tearing me up, you know. I blamed myself.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Axe.” Wyatt cups Axel’s head, absently brushing his thumb back and forth. It’s as close to an apology Axel is going to get, and he knows it. Carefully tucking my legs up on the sofa, I hug Axel’s socked feet close to my chest.
“Well, I can start you off with the info you want to know.” I rub Axel’s shins to get his attention back. His hazel eyes drift to my face, a silent plea there that I can’t refuse. “Wyatt made love to me in this cute little B&B. Went on for hours, and then again in the morning. It made a change from his dick nudging my lower back in a sleeping bag.” Both Axel and Wyatt’s mouths drop open, although Axel quickly smiles. He nudges Wyatt’s stomach with his head.
“Okay, I forgive you already. Tell me everything.”
“Can we not?” Wyatt drags a hand down his face.
“Too late,” I grin wide. It feels good to finally get this out in the open. To normalize it. Going all the way back, I explain to Axel what happened the night of Midnight Madness. The text from Fredrick, how I woke up tied up in Hux’s SUV with a dog licking my face. The crash and subsequent three-day hike until we found out Axe was in the hospital. Wyatt listens for the most part, looking away at any mention of him being affectionate. The tips of his ears go red, but otherwise, he appears unaffected.
Axel, on the other hand, laps up every word that spills from my lips. He pitches in every so often with ‘ it’s about damn time’ and ‘ I bet you gave him hell’ , the tension in his jaw easing. Just for a short while, his pain and situation ebb away, until I get to the point of the story he’s not going to like.
“Then Sharon showed up. The hospital called her to take you back into her custody. There was nothing we could do except come with you.” Wyatt returns to the conversation then, his eyes meeting Axel’s.
“And we will stay until you’re strong enough to leave. There’s no rush.” My heart clenches, stilling my chest for a moment. Axel senses my shift, twisting his lips to look up at Wyatt.
“I get that you’re not ready to run straight back into danger, but we all know there is a rush. We need to find Meg before it’s too late.” The tightness in my chest locks down, blocking air from entering my lungs. Meg’s defiant face flashes before my eyes, shaking her head to tell me not to come, but she knows me better than that. I can’t leave her there, and Axel agrees. “Surely there’s something we can do while my ribs are healing. How did you get in contact with Fredrick before?”
Wyatt’s jaw tightens, his muscles bunching as if he’s physically holding back from jumping up and leaving. His hand flexes against the back of the sofa, and for a moment, I reckon he might storm out rather than continue the conversation. Then, with a heavy exhale, he rolls his neck, cracking it audibly.
“I… well, I have the phone number of an ex-con that works for him.” The admission hangs in the air like a lifeline. I straighten, my heart thudding in my chest.
“You do? We could call it!” The words fall out before I can think them through, excitement and hope overtaking caution. Wyatt’s head snaps toward me, his glare sharp enough to cut.
“And this is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” he growls, running a hand through his hair. “Your first instinct is always, ‘ how can I get myself killed the quickest? ’” My mouth falls open, but I can’t deny that he’s right.
“Okay, fine,” I relent, tugging Axel’s feet back into my chest, the weight steading on my legs. “But we could at least track it? Dax’s cousin has done similar things for us before.”
Wyatt pauses, his green eyes narrowing. He shifts his weight, his hand still resting on the back of his neck. Finally, he lets his arm drop and glances toward the window, the late afternoon light casting shadows across the room.
“Maybe,” he admits grudgingly. “But we do it my way. No reckless stunts. We’re already in over our heads, and I’m not losing anyone else.”
I nod instantly. “We’ll be careful,” I promise. Wyatt doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reverts back to stroking Axel’s head, soothing the pair of them.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll call Dax’s cousin. But if this goes south, you stay out of it, Avery. Promise me.” I nod, though we both know it’s a promise I might not be able to keep. Axel sighs heavily, that tiny rattle still present each time he breathes. His hands come to rest over his stomach, where he toys nervously with his fingers.
“Since we’re having difficult conversations,” he glances at me from beneath hooded eyelids. “I’ve heard mutterings about an auction tomorrow night. What’s the plan with that?”
“The plan is to stay the fuck out of the way,” Wyatt snaps quickly. Axel’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw tensing as he forces his eyes to mine instead of Wyatt’s. His shoulders rise, then fall in a measured breath, clearly trying to keep his composure.
“I think you guys should go,” he says quietly, his head turning to face away from us both. Wyatt jolts, just narrowly stopping himself from shooting upright from the sofa.
“Are you out of your damn mind? You want us to walk into your mother’s circus of horrors like it’s a fucking cocktail party? It’s not happening.” Axel doesn’t flinch at the outburst, his calm almost unnerving.
“Axel…” I start gently, trying to deescalate the sudden rise in tension. We need to keep Axel relaxed, the doctor said so. “What do you think we could even accomplish by going?” Axel’s hazel eyes flick to mine with a sharpness I rarely see in him anymore.
“The type of people who attend the auctions are beyond wealthy and have a lot of connections. They use the events to network as much as… other things. We’re way out of our depth here. We could use as much help as he can get.”
“Not by rubbing shoulders with those sick sons of bitches. We will make connections another way.” Wyatt grunts, his expression fully shut down. A darkness falls over his green eyes, worlds away from the man in the gym who had his hands on my waist and his gaze on my mouth.
“What way? With what time? We can’t just sit here and do nothing, even if Dax’s cousin manages to get us an address. You just said yourself, we’re in way over our heads, and we’re not thugs, Wyatt. We don’t go around killing people.” A stab of anguish passes Axel's features, and for the first time, I see how haunted he is by what happened. I only know what Dax told me, but it seems Axel has another uphill battle to climb, and this one will test him far more than his physical recovery. Licking his cracked lips, Axel looks like he’s barely holding it together. “We need help.”
My chest tightens as I glance between the two of them. Wyatt twists to stare out of the window, resting his elbow on the sofa arm, effectively shutting up out. The pause is deafening, the weight on my chest crushing. Axel is spared the ticking of Wyatt’s jaw from his upside-down angle, but I have a full, uncensored view.
“If Axel thinks it might be helpful,” I start. Wyatt’s head whips to me, fire burning in his eyes. I half shrug, hugging Axel’s feet closer to my body. “I’m just saying we’re a team, right? Everyone gets a say.”
For a moment, the room falls silent, the weight of the conversation settling around us like a thick fog. Then Wyatt straightens his spine and rolls his neck. I can see his denial before he even speaks.
“You think Sharon is just going to let us waltz in there to snoop around?”
“She won’t,” Axel agrees, but the strain in his voice betrays him. “But I’ve heard… well, that she’s taken a liking to Huxley…” Wyatt sucks in a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
Axel swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he starts grasping for reason.
“Sharon was too focused on appearances to risk causing a scene at her own event. The guests aren’t all high-flying members of society. They are people who have a dirty secret to hide, and that gives us leverage. And not just on who’s attending and who’s bidding, but with what deals are being made in the back rooms. That’s what people like Sharon do. They create alliances. We could use an alliance when we find Fredrick, someone unsavory to do what needs to be done.”
I lean forward, reaching across the back of the sofa for Wyatt’s hand. After a pause of hesitation, Wyatt stretches out and links our fingers. Between us, Axel stares at our hands like he’s in shock.
“Axel has a point. As much as I hate the idea of going, we can’t keep pretending this will all blow over if we ignore it. If Fredrick’s making moves, we need to be prepared before he gets the upper hand.”
Wyatt looks at me, his wild green eyes searching mine. He’s torn, and I can feel the weight of his fear. Fear for me, for Axel, for all of us. Axel takes a shaky breath, his hands gripping the hem of his damp T-shirt. Sweat patches are increasing around his neckline, his body burning up with the strain.
“There’s another reason as well. I know it’s stupid. But…I kinda thought if you guys went, it would be like we’re sharing the trauma. Like it might be a little bit less for me to carry on my own.”
Wyatt runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. Finally, he exhales sharply, looking down at Axel with reluctant acceptance. Axel nods, his relief palpable, although his skin is sheet white now. Wyatt notices it at the same time I do.
“Alright. Enough adventuring for today. Let’s get you back upstairs before Garrett throws a fit.” With a groan, Axel obliges, allowing us to slowly help him back onto his feet. I take his non-injured side, allowing his arm to drape over my shoulders heavily.
“Hey, I have an idea.” I grin up at Axel as his face is pinched with pain. Wyatt is doing his best to shoulder his weight on the other side, but it’s going to be a while before Axel is up and about properly. “How about a bath together? I can get Dax to read one of his new dark romances to us.”
“Is it hot and spicy?” Axel peeks at me beneath his lashes. I snort and roll my eyes.
“Is there any other kind of dark romance?”
“You guys are weird,” Wyatt huffs, but when I look over, he’s trying to hide a small twitch of his lips. It’s becoming much easier to read him these days, and I know now that, weird or not, Wyatt wouldn’t want any of us to be any other way.