Chapter 3 #3
My panicked brain screams at me that I’m going to plummet down, get splattered against a tree, and die on this stupid fucking mountain that I never should’ve returned to in the first place.
As I pointlessly jerk the steering wheel one last time before I slam my eyes shut.
The last thing I see is the edge of the road directly in my path.
I yelp at the jolt of impact. My vision goes splodgy and black.
With my elbows locked against the wheel, I sharply open my eyes and…I’m alive. The airbags didn’t even go off. But the world is tilted to the right as the car is halfway down the hill, stopped only by hitting a massive tree near the road.
“Oh my god,” I whisper to myself, patting my body. “Fuck.”
I’m okay? I’m okay.
I gasp when something smacks against the driver’s side window. It’s him. His already pale skin is almost as white as the snow around us, and his brown eyes bulge at me in horror, close to popping out. He slides his hand down and opens the door with such force I halfway expect him to rip it off.
The car makes a screeching, squeaky sound.
I freeze and hold my breath. The snow crunches under the weight of it in a terrifying way, so with my pulse ringing in my ears like a church bell, I accept the man’s hand.
He hoists me out of the seat and toward himself, pulling us away until we’re a safe distance from the car and the slope.
“Are-are you hurt?!” he asks urgently, but I’m still processing what just happened.
I look back at the car. It's stuck alright—jammed between the tree and the sloped ground hidden under the snow, and in obvious danger of sliding further down the hill if I attempt to move it. That much is pretty clear.
I hang my head with an exhausted sigh. This can’t be fucking happening.
He squeezes my shoulder tightly, forcing me to face him. There’s a scar right above his eyebrow, nearly touching it. It runs down his temple, fraying at the edges. I hadn’t noticed that before.
“We need to get inside,” he says after a quick glance, probably concluding I’m not injured. Before I can even open my mouth, he grabs my wrist again, wrapping his hand around it easily, and drags me toward the store.
And boy, does it feel like a blizzard now.
I barely see the building. The wind pushes against my entire body with powerful gusts, and I’m so fucking cold my nose might drop off. My eyes burn, my skin tingles, and the air feels like shards of ice in my lungs.
When we finally make it inside, I nearly fall on my knees at the sweet relief of the warmth and safety of shelter. I’m shivering from the cold and the shock and everything else.
The omega turns to me after closing the door. There’s a faint line in the middle of his forehead, like he wants to be angry and tell me off, but is stopping himself.
“You could’ve died. You…you’re not even dressed for the weather,” he mutters with an exasperated wave of his hand.
I glare at him, wondering if he realizes the irony of running after me in only a shirt that is now drenched. Even his sweats are wet, but if he is cold, he’s not letting it show. His touch earlier was warm, too. Warm and firm.
I rub my face, and we both sigh at the exact same moment.
What a mess this is. How am I going to get back to the city? What…what the hell am I supposed to do now?!
“I asked if you were hurt. Are you?” he asks, stepping closer. The scent of his pheromones hits me again. Sweet. Soft. Not at all like what he looks like on the outside. Not that his aura is prickly or unfriendly by any means, just…
“No,” I whisper.
The corner of his mouth tugs into a faint smile. “So you can speak…”
I frown. He doesn’t say it in the biting way people usually do. It frustrates me all the same. Even if it shouldn’t. He doesn’t know.
He might have saved me, but I still have to get out of here.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. No signal. Brilliant. When I look back at him, his gaze waits for me, as if he knows exactly what I’m going to ask. “I need…need to call someone about my car.”
A sharp snort comes out of him. “There’s not a chance of anyone comin’ all the way here to get your car until the storm’s over.
Not even snow plows come up here. You should know that.
” His tone softens again at the end. I blink in confusion, so he elaborates, “You grew up on the mountain, didn’t you? ”
I don’t respond, just step back with my hands in my hair. I pull my hood down and push the stray, messy strands from my face before I start pacing.
So…I’m trapped. I’m fucking trapped.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why didn’t I check the goddamn weather?!
“You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt. Just…tell me if you need any food to make it through the storm. I have plenty of stock. You should be able to get back to the house before it gets any worse if you get a move on.”
My heart skips a beat.
No. No, not the house.
I snap my eyes up at him in a wide stare. He doesn’t understand. Doesn’t know. Not only why I can’t be stuck in that house—and I can’t—alone for who knows how long, but also that…that I’m useless. Even if I could mentally handle being there, I’d probably freeze.
It’s all crumbling. Everything is caving in around me.
Shaking my head, I step back with my hand over my heart, trying to calm my breath. He must think I’m a mess. And I am. I am a mess. My entire existence is a bad tragicomedy at the moment.
I should’ve stayed in the city and gotten high. I should’ve been lying on a couch somewhere, warm and happy and blissed out of my fucking mind right now.
“Hey.” He moves closer; close enough to touch me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rubs his hands together in front of him. “What’s going on? You don’t look right. Are you sure you didn’t get hurt?”
Fuck. I can’t speak.
I want to say something to explain, but I can’t, and that drives me even more insane, piling on top of the anxiety that’s already there.
“Warren. Is that your name?”
I shake my head.
“No? Oh. Sorry. What should I call you then?”
Biting down on my lip until it hurts, I meet his eyes for a moment before facing away.
“Wr…” Come on. I try to calm down, I really do.
I think about the words, and I scream at my brain to let me say them.
My throat flexes and my stomach cramps with effort.
“Mph—” I groan and smack my hand over my thigh, walking off in frustration.
He just stands there. Silent.
Thank the fuck he isn’t like most people. Trailing after me, hovering, constantly asking me what’s wrong. Asking me even more stupid questions I can’t answer. Telling me how I should control my own body when they have no idea how hard that is.
“Wren,” I finally squeeze out.
My throat’s on fire, even though it’s completely fine, physically. The only thing actually warming up are my cheeks that buzz with surging blood because of how embarrassed I am.
“Wren,” he repeats softly, a small, kind smile spreading across his lips.
“I’m Russell. People call me Rus.” Something pleasant and smooth brushes against the inside of my stomach.
Russell points to the phone in my hand. “Can you respond with that? I need to know if you’re injured anywhere. And what you need back at the house.”
I stare at him in shock.
People usually… I didn’t expect him to…
His eyes narrow and focus on me to an uncomfortable degree, like he’s confused about my reaction. I wet my chapped lips and look down to unlock my phone. Get it together. As I open the notes app and start typing, Russell slowly approaches.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done this, no. I just haven’t communicated like that in a while. Usually, I stay at home and avoid having to talk to anyone when I get this bad.
[Don’t think I’m hurt. Can’t go back to the house. I can’t even start a fire. I’ve tried. There’s almost nothing there anyway.]
I’m more fucked than you could know, I want to add at the end, but I turn the phone around to show him instead.
Rus’s eyes scan the message. “Then you gotta stay here ‘til the storm passes,” he says plainly, as if it’s obvious and not a big deal at all.
I press my lips firmly together, swallowing the lump in my throat. Or trying to.
[I need to get back to the city.]
He reads it and immediately shakes his head. “There’s no safe way, Wren. Please, trust me on that. You have to stay.”
I glance through the small window in the door. The wind rattles the flimsy old fittings across the store. I hear it whistling ominously through the wood.
He’s right. I would probably freeze to death the moment I stepped outside, even if I, for some crazy reason, tried to go out to get help. Though, something tells me he wouldn’t let me. And no one is coming out in this weather to deal with my car, anyway.
I let my hand with the phone fall down my side and step back with a defeated huff. Rubbing my face, I nod before sitting down on the ground in front of the counter to rest my head against it.
For however long, I’m stuck here.
Even from the grave, she still manages to torment me…