Chapter 7
JESSIA
Every morning, I got out of bed—Devil’s, while he slept in a chair in the corner no matter how fiercely I argued, or pleaded—and I got through the day.
Some days I stayed in the sanctuary, remembering how to laugh and smile and function.
Some days, I sat in Devil’s room all day with the knife Lynn gifted me in my hand, waiting for Pierce to walk through the door with the monsters from the Alpha’s Bark.
I swore I caught the scent of one of them earlier, but I knew that was PTSD messing with me.
That’s what the therapist I’d dared to see once had said.
It was normal to re-experience what happened.
Normal to smell those scents wherever I went.
Normal to hear the growls and commands and laughter.
Normal to wake up six times a night, gasping, with sweat soaked through my clothes.
None of this felt normal. Not the panic, not the paranoia, not the pain that spiked and burned inside me, not the bruises that still throbbed across my body even if their colour had mellowed.
I cringed as I pulled my sleep shirt away from my chest, the fabric soaked through.
I’d had to borrow one of Devil’s since I’d already worn all the clothes I stuffed into a bag last week.
I glanced around the room, my ears pricked for sounds of him moving in the en-suite, but it was quiet.
It wasn’t the first morning he’d been gone when I woke, but something ached in my chest when I didn’t find him here.
I showered and changed, ignoring the illogical prick of hurt in my chest, and headed into the sanctuary.
A few people were in the kitchen eating breakfast, their quietude enough to tell me one or all of them were having a bad day.
I gave Thora a mild smile as I passed and aimed down the hall to my room.
It’s just a room, I assured myself. The same room you’ve lived in for months.
The door at the end of the hall was shut this time, and there were no unfamiliar scents. “I’m fine,” I whispered, pushing open my bedroom door and bracing myself for an envelope on my bed.
I exhaled hard, my shoulders drooping when the bed was empty. Of course it was. The Knights had increased security; no one would get into my room again. I was safe.
But I still didn’t want to linger, so I quickly filled my bag with clean clothes, making a mental note to throw the ones I’d worn in the washing machine later. See, this is fine, I told myself, going into the bathroom to grab my makeup bag since I might actually have the energy to wear it today.
The bag fell from my hands when I saw the mirror.
Not my own drawn face looking back at me, but words smeared in dark plum lipstick.
I flinched away, the backs of my legs slamming into the bath.
I hadn’t worn that lipstick in years, and the sight of it made my vision blur so I couldn’t immediately read the words scrawled on the mirror.
I had to blink three times, my breathing rupturing into sharp, stunted gasps.
COME HOME, JENNA. FINAL WARNING.
The last two words had been underlined twice, exactly like Pierce used to underline the sticky notes he left around the house—first as a romantic gesture and then as commands to make sure I had his dinner ready when he came home, the house cleaned perfectly, and lingerie on beneath the tight black dresses he preferred.
I covered my mouth as a sob broke between messy breaths, surprised to find my hand shaking. The words written in violent plum swam in my vision, clearing when I blinked—
“That’s not his handwriting,” I gasped, a tiny breath of hope that felt so fragile in my hands. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and squinted at the mirror. It really wasn’t his handwriting. But who else would write this? Who else would know my old name?
Confusion held back the numbness gathering in my fingertips long enough for me to stumble out of the room, through the sanctuary, and into the clubhouse proper. I was looking for Devil, but it was Prodigy’s path I crossed, the president’s freckled face lined with concern as I ran towards him.
“They’re back,” I blurted. “The person who left the message. They—they wrote on my mirror, but it’s not—it’s not who I thought it was.”
His expression hardened, wrath darkening his eyes even as he squeezed my shoulder. The touch was there and gone fast enough that my skin didn’t burn and prickle. “We’ll get him.”
“But you already tightened security,” I pointed out, then terror gripped my chest as I realised I was talking back to the president of the Alpha Knights MC. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Jessia,” he interrupted calmly. “You’re right. This shouldn’t have happened. Is there a chance your mirror could have had this message before we locked down the compound?”
I bit the inside of my lip. “It could have. I didn’t actually go in the bathroom, but—Devil did. He’d have seen it.”
Prodigy nodded, his expression calculating.
“I think maybe,” I said hesitantly, “whoever’s leaving these messages for me is still inside the fence. Maybe—maybe in the clubhouse.”
Prodigy’s eyes were like steel. “I wish I could disagree with you, sweetheart. I’ll put a guard on every sanctuary door. Stay out of your room for the next few days. There should be a spare room—”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I have somewhere to stay.” I didn’t tell him I’d be with Devil, mostly because I didn’t know how to explain it.
We weren’t together, and he hadn’t so much as kissed me, hadn’t even flirted to express interest. While part of me was glad to avoid that after what happened in the basement, the rest of me was…
confused. Maybe a little disappointed. He was the only man whose touch I could stand without going numb all over, and he was so considerate, so delicate in the way he held me.
I wanted more, and it was both strange and wonderful to want anything at all.
I had the weird sense that Prodigy knew exactly what I was thinking, and maybe even understood why Devil felt so safe, maybe even what motivated Devil to take care of me in the first place.
He didn’t say any of it, though. He just gave me a sad look and asked, “Are you doing okay, Jessia? Anything you tell me is in confidence, I’ll never tell anyone else. ”
As if he wouldn’t tell Giant and the new therapist. Still I mustered a smile, because it was nice that he cared, and said, “There’s nothing to tell. I’m healing every day.”
It was a lie, but I hoped one day it would be true.