Chapter 22 Mirabelle
Mirabelle
“You did a good job, Ash actually agreed to help us!” I say, leaning forward to meet Rowan’s gaze.
He glances away, scrubbing a hand down his face.
“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. He’s just... Scary. A little intimidating. I never know what he’s thinking.”
“He definitely seems to think a lot,” I say, bobbing my head in a series of nods.
Rowan’s lips quirk up in the hint of a smile as he reaches out and pats my head gently.
“You really are special, you know that? You don’t need to comfort me.”
“But you’re upset. People should be comforted when they’re upset.”
“How’re you feeling?” He asks.
I’m smart enough to pick up on the fact he’s deflecting from the earlier topic of conversation.
“I’m fine.”
“You sure? Even though you know what we’re headed to?”
Lunch with Rowan’s dad. Norman Mercer.
Rowan has spent a some time giving me little tidbits of what he’s like, but all of it seems to leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
It’s obvious that Norman wasn’t much of a father to Rowan at all.
Plus, he’s the man responsible for the fighters and I being kept captive.
I automatically hate him.
After getting to know all the guys who everyone seems to treat like animals, like monsters, I know who the real monster is.
The man we’re going to have lunch with.
Sure, I feel nervous. Maybe even a little scared. But that would only make Rowan even more terrified than he already is.
It’s obvious in the line of tension he’s carrying in his shoulders and the way he keeps on glancing at his phone to check the time.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I say, reaching out and resting my hand on his. “I get the easy job. I just have to follow your instructions, right? I’m good at that.”
“Yeah. Just follow my lead.” He flips his hand over, lacing our hands together. “We should go.”
“Okay,” I say, hopping up to my feet.
“You remember what we practiced, right?”
“Yup! Stay behind you, follow your instructions, and keep my eyes on the floor unless I’m looking at you.”
“Good,” he nods, standing from the couch and running a hand through his messy hair.
The central farmhouse is nearby enough to the trailers that we can walk, though I keep on having to stop and shake out the bits of gravel that get caught between my feet and the plastic foam of the slides I’m borrowing from Rowan.
My entire outfit is Rowan’s. His basketball shorts, his hoodie, his t-shirt.
It’s like I’m carrying him with me with every step. I like it, even though I’m kind of swallowed by the fabric.
The front door opens almost instantly after Rowan knocks.
“You’re punctual. Good,” Norman nods, stepping aside to let us in.
I follow the rules Rowan laid out for me tonight, my steps following behind his like a shadow as I keep my gaze glued to the floor.
“What’s for lunch?” Rowan asks as we follow his dad to the dining room.
“Pizza,” Rowan’s father answers, his chair scraping against the worn hardwood floor underneath.
There’s a large pizza already sitting at the table. It’s heaped with all different kinds of meat. I guess that would be the pizza a burly alpha like Norman would prefer.
There are more than enough chairs for me to take a seat at the table, but exactly like Rowan and I practiced, I sink down onto my knees beside him as he takes his seat.
I feel Norman’s gaze on me, watching my movements assessingly, but I just stare up at Rowan.
He reaches down and pats my head in acknowledgement.
It’s silly how much I like head pats.
Well, any form of affection, really.
Spending the past few days surrounded by Rowan and the fighters and their casual touches makes me realize I was touched starved back at the facility.
“I’m impressed. She’s so well behaved already,” Norman comments as they both start eating the pizza.
“She is,” Rowan says, shooting me a glance. He picks off a piece of ham and reaches down under the table.
My mouth waters at the scent. I lean up and take the bite of food from his hand, my tongue darting out to lick some of the tomato sauce off his fingers.
Wow. I like this.
I should ask Rowan if we can have some of it together in his trailer, later.
His breath hitches the slightest bit before he returns his attention to his dad.
“Have you had to use the collar on her much?”
“No, not at all, really,” Rowan answers, stiffening at the mention of the collar around my neck.
Honestly, I forget it’s there most of the time. Especially when I’m just with Rowan. He doesn’t use it at all.
“Hmm, interesting,” Norman says.
“I honestly think it’s a little pointless to keep on her,” Rowan shrugs casually, but the statement weighs heavy on my brain.
I swallow down the hope when Norman just lets out an amused chuckle.
“It’s got other purposes outside of just shocking her. There’s a tracker there, so if she gets off the compound, we don’t lose her,” Norman says, before taking a bite of pizza so big two two-thirds of the slice is gone. “It’s important you don’t fall into the same traps I did with your mother.”
Rowan’s body stiffens. This is the second time I’ve seen his expression morph into something unreadable at the mention of his mother.
He doesn’t talk about her. I wonder what happened. Is she still alive?
I assume she was an omega and that she’s no longer here on the farm, based on the way Norman and the doctor talked about her.
“Jett’s strategy takes after the way I treated her, and she, well, she ran away. Didn’t have a tracker on her, thought I wouldn’t have needed it after the five years we were together.” Norman says, waving his hand. “So the collar stays on, but maybe a softer approach is better.”
Rowan’s hand clenches into a fist under the table. His father won’t be able to see it, but I do. His hand is trembling.
I can’t scent the difference in his mood as well as I can with the alpha fighters, but there’s a bitter, almost antiseptic, medical aftertaste to his normally pleasant scent. He’s really upset right now. I’m surprised he’s keeping it together.
I lean my head against his thigh, trying to distract him from the words that’ve obviously brought up something unpleasant for him.
Rowan’s hand gently pets my hair, and some of the tension in his body leaves him.
“Loyalty is invaluable,” he says slowly. “If you ask me, cruelty ain’t the way to earn it.”
“Hmmm, interesting,” Norman says. “Tell me, how were you able to tame the new fighting dog so quickly? I hear from Jerry and Jett that he was unruly when we first got him.”
Rowan shrugs, dancing around the question. “Maybe I just have a gift. I know this is my first time taking part in the family business, but I’ve done an awful lot of watching over the years.”
“You have, have you?”
With my head tilted this way, Norman can’t see the face I’m making. Which is good, because it probably looks like I tasted something sour. I don’t like the casual mentions Rowan’s dad makes that show that he really hasn’t paid his youngest son any attention.
“Well, anyway,” Norman continues. “I wanted to let you know I sent Jett away. He’s going out on a little mission for me, probably be gone for a while.”
Rowan stiffens, his hand that’s settled on top of my head stilling.
“You—you sent him away? Why?”
“Well, mostly because I needed someone to learn more about what the hell happened to the omega facility this omega came from and what to do now that it’s been raided and shut down.
But also ‘cause I thought it’d be best if you two had some space after the stunt he pulled the other day,” Norman says, nodding towards the bruises that’re still obvious on Rowan’s face.
My heart stutters in my chest. The facility was raided?
What in the world happened?
That place always felt like it was indestructible.
Are the girls okay? What happened to them?
“Oh,” Rowan says, waiting for Norman to continue.
“That means we’ve got a trainer position open. Doubly so since Tony’s spine got all fucked up after the stunt Ash pulled. You ready to finally pull your weight around here?”
I really don’t like this man. Every chance he gets, he seems to remind Rowan of his supposed inadequacies. I don’t even know if he does it consciously. I think that’s just how he thinks about Rowan. It makes me angry.
But I fight to keep my anger—and my perfume—under control. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself by smelling like sour strawberries right now.
“Fine,” Rowan says, his reluctance obvious, even in the single syllable. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“As much as you can, really. I want to see what you’re capable of.”
“I see.”
“You can start with Rage. He’s acting up. Hasn’t calmed the fuck down since he woke up. I want you to go down and fix the situation.”
I reach up subtly and squeeze Rowan’s shin at the mention of Rage. Is he okay? Are those handlers hurting him again?
“Okay. Starting off strong, I guess,” Rowan says, letting out a strained chuckle.
“If you succeed, I’ll give you access to the family credit card.”
“Done,” Rowan answers immediately, standing from his chair and nodding down at me.
“I want the dogs ready for the group showcase fights in a month,” Norman continues.
“They’ll be ready,” Rowan nods.
Like a shadow, I follow in his steps as the two of us leave.
The moment the door closes behind us, Rowan’s shoulders deflate.
“Are you okay?” I ask, reaching for him.
“Keep walking,” Rowan says through gritted teeth. “Just in case he’s watching us leave.”
My hand drops to my side along with my gaze as I hurry behind him, needing to speedwalk to keep up with his pace.
“Are you okay?” I ask again, as Rowan slumps against the wall of one of the trailers, out of sight of the farmhouse.
“I think—I think that was the best conversation I’ve had with my fucking dad in years and it still sucked.” He says, burying his face in his hands.
My own hands hover over him, unsure of where to touch him. I desperately want to offer him some sort of comfort, but every part of his body language screams that he doesn’t want to be touched right now.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, shifting my weight from foot to foot. “At least—at least he’s giving you an opportunity to prove yourself?”
“I don’t give a shit anymore,” he spits, the venom in his words startling me.
His eyes go wide as he sees my expression and he curses under his breath.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I’m fucking pissed at the situation,” he says.
“The only reason I’m going along with this whole charade is ‘cause—is cause it’ll keep you safe.
Access to that money means I can get you stuff.
Like actual fucking clothes. And maybe even nesting materials, you know? ”
My heart rate picks up at the mention of Rowan getting me things.
“Really? You’d do that for me?” I whisper.
His brows draw down in confusion.
“Of course. Why the hell wouldn’t I? The only reason I haven’t so far is ‘cause I don’t have access to that money.”
“But—but don’t you want anything for yourself?”
“Nah, I’ve got everything I need,” he says, pushing himself off the wall of the trailer. “Now, the real question is whether you think you can work your magic on Rage a second time.”
“It’s not magic,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s just kindness.”
“Might as well be magic in this hellhole,” he mumbles. “Let’s go.”