3. Maeve
3
MAEVE
I feel someone watching me as I leave the library. My anger is simmering away, my eyes stinging with the weight of my unshed tears, and I dare whoever it is that Adrian has watching me to try and engage with me right now.
I’d love nothing more than to unleash all this pain on someone else.
My chromius whines, and the sound grates on me. It’s one she makes far too often, and I miss the days where she was a source of strength. Now, her cries are a reminder of how broken we are.
“Why do you do this to us?” I whisper to her, our pain merging as one.
What does she expect me to do? I can’t fix us, I can’t fix this pain.
And honestly, we don’t deserve to be fixed.
I yank the door open to the café and spot Daisy behind the counter. Her parents own the café, and she’s worked here for as long as I’ve been here. She’s doing an internship now with the Tribunal, I think, or maybe working part-time for them in the transportation department.
She immediately beams at me as I approach, but I don’t bother to fake a smile for her. She’s bubbly enough for us both.
“Hey, Maeve,” Daisy says, her voice bright and cheerful, a stark contrast to the dark cloud hanging over me. I envy her ability to be so upbeat, but more than that: I fear for her.
It’s as if the horrors of this world haven’t yet managed to taint her soul, as if, for now, she’s been free. It means her days are coming. It’ll be her time soon, and I pray she has someone to protect her.
The strong smell of coffee drowns out the shifters’ scents. I can’t identify who I'm surrounded by. But I feel their energy. Strong. Powerful. Mythicals.
The feeling makes my skin crawl and my chromius cries out in longing. I wish she’d stop. We won’t ever be one of them.
“Hi,” I reply, coming to a stop at the counter.
Her bright yellow T-shirt and the daisies braided into her hair make her look like she belongs in a summer meadow, not behind a café counter.
“You look really nice today,” I mention, my voice softer, hoping she can hear the sincerity.
My chromius’s cries cut off at the feeling of warmth that emits from Daisy’s mermaid from our compliment.
Daisy won’t ever understand how much she helps me, but any positive attention from her gives my chromius a boost of energy.
It’s probably her empath abilities.
Or the fact that we’re so lonely, a simple authentic smile makes our day.
Daisy’s pale hazel eyes light up in joy. “Thank you, Maeve. Now, what can I get for you today?”
“A peppermint tea, please.”
Daisy nods, her fingers moving swiftly over the till, a grin still in place as she does.
“Coming right up!” she chirps. I hand over the money and retreat to the end of the counter, seeking solitude in this crowded café. I don’t know anyone here today, but I know for a fact I don’t like any of them.
The café is busy, but everyone gives me a wide berth, not even a passing glance. It’s better this way. Safer.
That’s one of the things I do like about the compound—very few care about me, and I get left alone. I’m never invited to places, nobody tries to make small talk, and for the most part, people don’t even make eye contact. It never used to be this way, but with each rejection, with each plea to leave me alone, people have started to listen.
If only Adrian would follow his people and leave me alone, then I could live the life I truly desire. But he never will.
From the moment I was brought here, I became his. His broken chromius to fix up and get her to start doing her duty for shifter-kind.
I flinch as my chromius cries in my mind, my hands shaking as I clutch at the bottom of my dress. I close my eyes, count to three, and build the thickest wall I can between me and my inner animal.
Her pain at living such a lonely life is her own burden to bear.
I can’t share the weight of it if I want to survive.
Daisy hands me the steaming cup of peppermint tea, her smile never wavering.
“Have a great day, Maeve!” she says before turning to the next customer.
I manage a small nod and a “You, too,” before turning on my heel and heading straight home without interacting with anyone else. It’s a big relief. I have no doubt Glenda has already grassed me up to the mighty Adrian Graves, and I can’t be bothered with his bullshit right now.
I need a plan first.
Some leverage to get rid of this nephew of his… or even better… a plan to finally leave. Adrian doesn’t understand that he’s given me what I needed to finally, finally, escape this place.
I can escape his rules and his control. I can escape his neglect and his pathetic attempts to manipulate me. I can leave and live my life the way I want.
All because of Adrian and his foolish attempt to force me into a position I promised myself I would never be in again.
I don’t want a mate. I don’t need a mate. And Adrian should know better than anyone than to try and control me in this way.
My soul is fractured.
Dirty.
Destroyed.
Broken.
I won’t be playing any of his games any longer. It’s time for me to find some freedom.
I cut through the garden of my home, rather than using the front door, and I’m happy to smell that nobody has breached my lands. The house is as silent and cold as usual, and it feels comforting as I shut the back door behind me.
I can’t risk Adrian trying to make a surprise visit and catching me unaware, so I reset the house alarm and make sure that the security lights in the garden are on their timer.
“Fuck you, Adrian,” I mutter to myself, making sure my home is completely protected from him.
I turn the lights on as I enter my kitchen, since this room is always one of the darkest. There’s only one small window just above the sink, which is blocked by my snake plant with its long, variegated leaves casting gentle shadows in the dimly lit space.
I turn on the passage lights and the living room as I pass before moving to grab my post. There’s a small pile of letters and flyers, and I know it’ll mostly all be shit I don’t care about.
The flyers all go in the bin without being checked. I care very little about community days or pack meetings, and I wish I could opt out of getting these things delivered. Nobody really wants me there.
Of my letters, two are bank statements, one is a note from Adrian telling me he’s confiscated yet another letter from the prison my stepfather is in, and the fourth is a personalised envelope with no return address.
Interesting. My chromius pays attention, the mental wall between us now diminished, and I sniff the envelope. There’s no scent past the scent of the griffin shifter who delivers my post, which is a bit unusual. Even my bank statements have other scents clinging to them.
The writing is quite pretty, although the deep red is very harsh against the white envelope, but I don’t recognise the script at all. This is not someone I’ve come across before, and that’s weird.
My chromius hisses, the sound echoing through my mind, as my stomach turns to lead. My hands are shaking as I turn the letter over to check for a stamp.
There’s not one there, meaning it was personally delivered.
Anger fills my chromius, her innate need to protect us overwhelming my senses, but instead of making me feel safe, it only panics me that much more.
Because if she thinks we need to be scared, then we do.
I grab the letter opener, and it takes a few tries before I manage to calm the trembling enough to open it properly. Unlike the dark red on the envelope, the writing on the paper is a bright red, and it has a strange odour to it. Powerful, but odd.
Just like the outside, the script is elegant and pretty. It’s a shame the contents are so psychotic.
My pretty little mate,
You may not have realised this, but I’ve been watching over you for a while now. Every move you make is mine for the watching. Fate has declared me your eternal shadow, and it’s my job to keep you safe.
You’ve been a good girl, little mate, such a good girl.
Your solitude is sweet music to my ears, the way you don’t let anyone touch you stirs an arousal in me that’s hard to be contained, and I know it’s because you feel our connection, too.
I’m the only one who truly understands the purity that resides in you, the only one who can appreciate the goddess that you are.
I long for the day when I can claim you as mine, when I can finally mark you as my mate forever.
I just need to prove myself worthy of your love, first. And I will, my mate, I promise.
Earlier today, I observed you in that stunning, vibrant pink dress, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. That smile you bestowed upon another man sent a wave of fury coursing through my veins.
It hurt me, Maeve.
You hurt me.
But then I realised you weren’t the one at fault. My perfect little mate would never deliberately hurt me that way.
He did it.
That mongrel dared to lay eyes on what belongs to me, dared to steal some of your attention, and for that, he has paid a grave price.
I couldn’t help it, little mate. You understand, don’t you?
He called for you, treated you as if your eyes and your smile were his to possess, but I refuse to let anyone defile what is rightfully mine.
I had to hurt him, little mate. I had to make him pay .
He’s been removed from your path, erased from existence, and he’ll never be seen again. Don’t be alarmed, little mate, when you see him.
I had to make him understand. I had to make them all understand. He was a worthless mutt, but in death, he’ll stand as a stern reminder to everyone that you are not theirs.
You’re a goddess, my mate, a work of pure perfection, and the worthless people that surround you don’t even deserve to breathe the same air you do.
Rest assured, he’s gone, forever, and you’ll never need to worry again about the disgusting vermin that plagues the streets and steals your purity.
With all the love that my soul can offer,
Your Mate
I read the letter twice. The words blur together. My brain races. Half of it makes no sense. Why would someone write this?
It’s not just a letter, it’s a threat… a warning.
I rub at the pain in my chest, the beating of my heart so painfully fast that it’s going to explode. My chromius is torn between angry hissing and desperate whines.
I stumble, my lower back bumping against the kitchen bench, inciting a scream from me. My back feels like it’s burning from where I was touched, my breathing no longer sounding calm and steady.
My chromius can no longer be heard, my mind racing so loud and fast that nothing makes sense.
I lose my grip on the letter and watch with wide eyes as it flutters to the floor. But instead of relief at letting go, a sense of dread fills me. My veins are ice cold, the goosebumps easily seen across my arms.
I see more bright red script on the back of the letter. There’s more that I’ve not yet seen.
What else could he admit to?
My legs are trembling, but I don’t hesitate in crouching down and picking it back up.
PS: Don’t be alarmed about the blood. I don’t know what diseases he carried, and I would never dream of risking you, so I used my blood instead of his to write this note.
Now, you’ll carry a part of me with you, and the sentiment is the same—he’s dead and won’t ever disrupt your day again.
“Blood?” I utter.
He wrote this letter in his blood ?
My stomach churns violently. Bile rises up my throat, and I gag on the acidic taste. Tears blur my vision as I spin around, spitting into the sink, retching until my stomach is empty.
How did my life become this nightmare?
The words I thought were elegant and pretty were etched in a madman’s blood .
My sobs are just as loud as my chromius’s cries as we purge out the contents of our stomach. He’s disgusting. I’m disgusting. I wipe my mouth as soon as the vomiting stops, but cleaning that little part of me doesn't erase the dirt that’s covering me.
I’m dirty.
Filthy.
I’m disgusting.
I wash my hands over and over until the skin is red raw and sip at a glass of water as I read the note over again. The words don’t change, and the odd scent is now easily placed as blood.
I can’t help the hysterical laughter that bubbles out at the constant reference to being his mate. My inner chromius is so fucking far gone from sexual desire that I don’t even think mates are possible for me.
I’m not worthy enough of having a mate. Not anymore.
But even if that weren’t the case, I would not select this… this monster .
“You’re a goddess,” I scoff, imitating him in a high-pitched voice, as my panic continues to build. “If I were a goddess, mate of mine , I’d be a lot happier. Believe me.”
Don’t I ever get a break?
Why are people so fooled by an arguably pretty face? Can’t they see how dirty I am? Can’t they see the damaged aura? The brokenness?
Can’t they smell the filth?
Can’t they see how fucked up I am?
I’m so fucking tired of this shit. So tired of men treating me like such an important object of their desires… when I’m nothing.
I’m worthless.
My chromius cries out, and I can feel her annoyance directed towards me.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, my words hard to discern with the husk of my tears. “I don’t mind being this way. I know the truth. I know I’m nothing. But that’s okay, as long as we’re just left alone.”
Her snarl is ferocious. This is the biggest disagreement we have, but I can’t give in.
I won’t give in.
Life isn’t worth living when men like this monster exist.
I’m not going to be the girl who gets a happy ending.
And I’m okay with that.
Because happiness isn’t my goal. Survival is. Freedom is.
Solitude is.
I leave the note on the table and go through to the living room to grab my laptop so that I can deal with the other shit situation that’s been thrown into my lap today. One is far more pressing than the other.
But then I freeze, putting two and two together. Julian Graves and a mysterious stalker showing up in one day?
Coincidence, I think not.
My chromius settles as we both go back to the letter, searching for any clue, any indication that this might not be as terrifying as I first thought.
Tears blur my vision as I re-read, my anger bubbling up, entwining with my fear. How dare he? How fucking dare Adrian do this to me?
The repeated reference to my purity is something Adrian and Dr Jones have been trying to drill into me for years. That I was hurt and abused, but I’m still pure .
It’s a load of fucking shit.
It hurt me, Maeve. You hurt me. The words echo Adrian’s. It’s his go-to phrase as he justifies his terrible actions. Whenever he makes a decision that I don’t immediately obey, or whenever I do something he disagrees with.
It’s the emotional manipulation that narcissists like him wields ever so well.
But the biggest clue of all is in the final paragraph. You’ll never need to worry again about the disgusting vermin that plagues the streets.
Adrian said that to me when he forced me to testify against my former pack. When he was still trying to pretend like everything he was doing was to protect me.
Those were his direct words, in the courtroom that day, and it’s the confirmation that I need. This letter is a threat, and it’s proof that I’m in danger here… but the danger isn’t from some pathetic stalker.
It would probably be simpler if it was.
This letter is Adrian’s next ploy. His plan is to scare the chameleon so she comes begging for help from the big, strong, powerful unicorn like the weak little girl I am. I’d be so lucky because all his protection would cost me is a mating bond to his nephew.
Well, fuck that.
Because, the thing is, I promised myself I wouldn’t be a victim ever again, and I’ve failed in that promise to myself. I’ve tried to fight it, but day after day, Adrian Graves has slowly been moving me to exactly where he wants me.
He’s manipulated me, he’s hurt me, he’s neglected me… he’s been an abusive prick hiding behind pretty promises and grand declarations of safety.
I’m not going to accept this any longer.
Fuck you, Adrian Graves. This girl has got herself a plan. I’m leaving, and nobody can stop me.