Chapter 8 #2
A ping of pain goes through me when the memories of us together come to me.
I can’t stop myself from sounding hurt and accusatory when I ask, “Was what we did earlier just to distract me so you could do this?”
Wren stills. Staring somewhere behind me, his eyes widen before he sharply retreats. He avoids me like meeting my gaze might physically hurt him and pulls his brows together, sinking into himself. He says nothing.
He can’t.
But even if he could, he wouldn’t, would he?
I part my lips slowly, rattled by the way that realization wounds me. A cynical chuckle comes out. “Maybe I am as stupid as people say,” I mutter to myself, my chest tightening painfully.
How could I have gotten tricked so easily? How could I open myself up and feel so free when…
Wren makes a gut-wrenching sound, something akin to a wild animal stepping into a bear trap. I blink, and he’s already racing toward the back door leading outside.
“Where are you— Wren? Stop!” I shout after him, vaulting around the counter, but he’s already through the door. He’s damn fast. The freezing air hits me before a powerful gust of wind slams the door closed after him. “What the… Shit.” Did he just seriously run out into the blizzard?!
I smack it open again and step out. Everything’s white. Cold, biting, deadly white.
“Wren!”
No response. Nothing but the howling winds.
My stomach turns as I scan the scenery and see only vague shapes besides the trail of sloppy footprints. He ran out in nothing but that t-shirt and pants. He’s going to get himself killed!
But that’s…that’s probably exactly what he wants deep down, isn’t it?
The urge in me to bolt out after him tugs at me with terrifying strength, but I turn around and shut the door instead. I’m already shaking just having stood out there for a few seconds. My vision goes all splotchy before my brain kicks into gear.
“Dammit,” I grumble to myself and run upstairs. I clear the stairs in a flash, adrenaline pulsing in my veins. Rushing into the room and startling the poor bird again, I put on a hat, a proper jacket, and my snow boots. Then I grab the thickest blanket I can find and head out.
I’m pretty sure I know where he’s heading.
With the blanket over my shoulder and my pumping heart fueled by anxiety, I make my way through the knee-deep snow, following the path cleared by Wren.
I almost start admiring the speed at which he must have been moving when I finally see his house ahead and hurry up. Sweat runs down my back, and my lungs burn, but I push harder. Every second counts in this weather. I don’t even know how he made it this far.
Alphas are resilient, I suppose.
And stubborn. Prideful.
That pain behind his eyes… I saw it. I should’ve paid more attention to it from the beginning. Maybe I didn’t want to look too close. Maybe I was afraid to, because that would mean getting near to another human being and risking them seeing me in return.
Clenching my teeth, I finally get some sort of relief when I see him. There’s a fallen tree in my way, so I awkwardly climb over it.
The house seems intact. Wren is cowering on the front porch by the main door, knees against his chest, head down. He’s trembling so much it’s like he’s convulsing.
I hurry toward him even though my feet feel heavier and heavier with each step.
He raises his head to me, and I have to let out a pained sigh. He looks a complete mess—tears running down his cheeks, snow covering his hair and melting over his face, bluish lips quivering, teeth chattering…
When I kneel in front of him, I want to say something. I want to scream at him for being so damn foolish and irresponsible. Again. Maybe even shake him or slap him for making me run after him like this, for lying, and being stupid, and…
Instead, I grab at his shoulders and almost recoil because of how cold he is.
He whimpers and faces away. “I d-don’t…” He groans and hits the wood under him as if he’s frustrated with himself. “Don’t ev-even know why I’m here. I de-despise t-this fucking house. Want t-to be an-anywhere but he…her…here.”
“It’s goin’ to be alright,” I whisper and quickly wrap the blanket around him.
He’s like a ragdoll under me, letting me do whatever. I hate seeing him like this. Like one of those animals we would hunt with Daddy when I was young. The sick, weary ones who lost all will to live. Just empty husks wandering about out of pure instinct.
After wrapping him as good and tight as I could, I take him into my arms and pick him up.
My mind has only one focus: getting him back and warming him up. It doesn’t matter how tired or cold I am. I’m going to get him there.
The walk to the cabin is a blur. I think of nothing but the promise of a crackling fire and the urgency of his shuddering body pressed against my chest, his life completely reliant on me making it there.
Somehow, we do.
I lower Wren to the floor in front of the fireplace. Sweat runs down my nose, so I quickly wipe it away. My eyes are heavy, and my lungs prickle like they’re burning, but it’s fine. As long as he’s okay. “Sit here,” I order him, and add more wood while he blankly stares ahead, rocking slightly.
More blankets. Towels?
Whatever! Need him dry.
I gather up more blankets and clothes. I take off the soaked, cold blanket I carried him in and throw it to the side before undressing Wren further.
He doesn’t even protest, just lets me do it.
He’s still shuddering and rattling like crazy, but there’s some color returning to his blue lips at least.
I check his fingers and toes. No frostbite, thank the dualis.
Wren faces away shyly when I pull his pants down, but they need to come off, too. Everything does. He’s soaked. I immediately give him new underwear and sweats, which he helps put on, together with a thick sweater that’s ridiculously big on him.
Shimmying us as close to the fire as possible, I start rubbing his wet hair with one of the towels I brought. Now that he sits in front of me, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito and fairly dry, my heart finally slows its maddening tempo.
I’ve almost forgotten how intense this state can be—when I’m on. The last time was during my deployment. Like being one step away from having a heart attack. No matter how exhausted I am, I’ve achieved what I needed to: Wren’s safe. He’s alive.
“Don’t ever do that again,” I say and fall on my ass in front of him with a long sigh. I pull my hat off, sending the sweat dripping from my hair everywhere. It makes the fire sizzle angrily. “Crap.”
Finally, with a deep exhale, I brave meeting those tortured eyes properly.
Wren’s not shaking as much anymore. He looks guilty as hell, though, which…he partially deserves, I suppose. That doesn’t make it easier to see.
He opens his mouth, brows furrowing, but once again, it’s like he’s run into a wall and is desperately trying to climb over it to no avail.
“It’s fine,” I whisper, lowering my gaze. Whatever he wants to say, now isn’t the time. I don’t need him to force himself to speak on top of everything. “You stay here, understand? Don’t move an inch,” I order, leaving no space for arguing. “I’m sorry, but I won’t let you ruin yourself.”
Wren snuffles and nods, shame overtaking his face.
I have to go downstairs and put those pills back.
The key was still in the lock, wasn’t it?
I have to make sure I hide it somewhere he can’t access.
And I might as well lock all the doors, in case he gets to a low point again and tries to do something that could get him killed in a very unpleasant, cold way.
“Actually, I take back what I said. Get in the bed,” I say.
Without hesitation, Wren follows my instructions.
Moving like a body without a soul, he crawls into the bed, blanket still wrapped around him.
I throw the fur cover over him. “Sleep. Or at least try to, okay?” I add softly. “I’ll be right back.”
He doesn’t meet my gaze, just nods and closes his eyes.
I imagine the horrors taking place behind them, and it makes my heart hurt. The knowledge that there’s nothing I can do to help sinks to the bottom of my stomach like a lead weight.