Chapter 44
Rage
Ican’t see her. Or hear her.
I don’t like that.
“You can stop pacing, big guy, you’re gonna wear a hole in the shitty carpet,” Ash huffs.
I bare my teeth at him in a snarl and continue to pace.
Without her in my arms, my hands start shaking.
My mind is racing. It keeps going back to the feel of bones and joints crumbling under my hands.
Serves him right.
He hurt her.
He was going to hurt her more.
So I killed him.
And I’d do it again.
But I lost control. I don’t like losing control.
I feel like a monster. Like they always called me.
But Mirabelle doesn’t think I’m a monster. She’s not afraid of me.
She let me hold her in my arms. Touch her with my hands. Hands that are dirty.
There’s a clock over the beds.
Tick-tock-tick-tock.
Step, step, step, turn. Step, step, step, turn.
“We just gonna let that omega keep our girl behind a closed door?” Ash growls. “She even has the fucking water running to keep us from hearing whatever they’re saying.”
“She’s probably just making sure Mirabelle’s here of her own will. She’s a Mom. It’s probably a maternal instinct,” Griffin shrugs. “This situation doesn’t look very good from the outside, so I get it.”
“You sure she’s not gonna do anything?” Ash asks.
“I didn’t talk to her too much before everything,” he says with a wave of his hand. “But the girls who work jobs like that know when to keep their head down. Only thing that’d make her do something is if Mirabelle says something that makes her do it.”
Silence fills the air of the room.
What if Mirabelle doesn’t want to be with us?
My hands tug at my hair and a low growl leaves my chest.
The thought is agonizing.
But would that be wrong?
We’re free, whatever that’s supposed to mean. What if Mirabelle doesn’t choose us?
What if Mirabelle doesn’t choose me?
“Hey,” Griffin says, stopping in front of me and squeezing my shoulder.
My wild gaze locks in on him. Then it drops down to the bite mark from Mirabelle peeking out past the collar of his shirt.
She chose him.
Not me.
She may never choose me.
My lips peel back in a snarl and I shove Griffin away from me.
He stumbles backwards, his eyes going wide.
“You’re freaking out, man,” Griffin says, holding his hands out. “We don’t know what’s going on.”
A snarl rips from my throat and I shake my head.
Of course they don’t know what’s wrong.
My mouth opens and closes and I grit my teeth.
I don’t know what to say.
I barely even know how I’m feeling right now, let alone how to make my throat work.
My tongue feels like lead in my mouth. Immovable. Poisonous.
I curl into myself, my hands coming to my head again.
I can barely hear past the roar of my pulse pumping in my ears.
“You’re fucking forgetting to breathe,” Ash huffs, shoving something in front of my face.
The shock of it has me blinking at him.
It’s a pad of paper. And a pen.
“You remember how to write?” He asks.
Do I? I haven’t had the chance to do so much while locked away.
What if I’m as stupid as the guards used to say I was?
He pushes the pen and paper against my chest.
It falls to the floor when he lets go.
I stare at it. Afraid.
It’s silly. And stupid. Why the fuck am I afraid of something so small?
“Look,” Ash snaps, when he loses his patience with my lack of response. “This situation is fucked. I know you don’t remember anything other than that fucking hellhole, but you can’t lose your shit out here. We’ve gotta step up and protect and take care of Mirabelle. Got that?”
I crouch down slowly, picking up the pen. It’s small in my hand. But I press the tip to the paper notepad, resting it against my thigh. And then I write.
What if she doesn’t want us?
My handwriting is ugly. Shaky and messy. Barely legible.
But Ash still tries to read it.
He offers me a single nod before he sighs and runs his hands through his hair.
“I don’t think that’s something we have to worry about—“ Griffin starts saying, peering at my writing over Ash’s shoulder.
“You shut the fuck up, new guy. He means us,” Ash snaps, gesturing to him and I as he glares at Griffin. “Right?”
I nod.
Mirabelle chose Griffin. She chose Rowan. They have the marks to prove it. The bonds to prove it.
“I get it,” Ash sighs. He sits on the bed and rests his elbows on his knees.
“Trust me, I do. But we’ve gotta trust what she’s been saying.
That we’re a package deal. And the way we make her pick us too isn’t by losing our shit, tearing this place apart and getting the cops called on us, okay?
That’s how we get Mirabelle fucking taken away from us forever. ”
I nod. Not just once. Not just twice. Three times.
He makes a lot of sense.
It also feels nice. He knows how I’m feeling. I’m not crazy for it.
“We should talk about what we are,” Rowan says softly from the bed. His voice is still strained from earlier.
“That’s a good idea,” Griffin says. “I think we make it official. Us being in a pack together. The four of us.”
“So what, are we fucking voting or some shit?” Ash huffs.
“If you want to make it a vote,” Griffin shrugs. “But I think it’s more a formality than anything. We’ve all got a common interest: Mirabelle’s the one for us. And honestly, I think we work pretty well together.”
“Fine,” Ash says, flopping backwards onto the bed. “Damn, this shit is comfortable. I’m in.”
“I—I’m in if you guys will have me,” Rowan says softly.
“’Course we want you,” Griffin says before turning to me. “Rage?”
I offer him a single nod. He flashes a toothy smile at me.
“Good. It’s official. We should figure out a pack name for ourselves sometime.”
“How exactly does that work?” Rowan asks.
“Well, normally it’s one of the guys’ last names, but to be honest, I’m not fond of mine,” Griffin shrugs.
“Me neither,” Rowan sighs.
“I don’t give a shit about mine and I don’t think Rage even remembers his first name,” Ash adds.
I shake my head.
I don’t.
Rage is the only name I know.
I wonder how long I was at the farm for.
Probably a long time.
Definitely a long time.
“Maybe we’ll take Mirabelle’s last name,” Griffin says.
“Does she even know hers?” Ash asks.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Damn, we’re a pretty fucked up group, huh?” Ash pushes himself up to his feet. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m fucking starving.”
“We could call for pizza?” Griffins says. “Delivery here.”
“Oh, I’d fucking kill for a pizza right now,” Ash says.
“I think pizza’s a good idea for tonight, but we’ve gotta talk about how the hell to make money,” Rowan says, his voice starting to sound a little slurred from the pills the other omega gave him earlier.
The three of them start talking about making money fighting again or something. I don’t really care. I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want to stay with Mirabelle.
I stare down at the notepad resting on my thigh.
I want to talk to Mirabelle.
She always talks to me.
I never had access to anything like paper at the farm.
I want to work on talking out loud, but I don’t think I’m patient enough to wait until I can learn again. I have things I want to tell her.
I flip to a new page and start writing.
Mirabelle
Her name is so pretty. But my writing makes it ugly. Just like my voice. Just like me.
I make things ugly. I’m ugly.
I tear the page out of the notebook, starting on a clean page. I rest the notepad on the floor, crouching over it.
I try again.
Mirabelle
Better. I spend an agonizingly long time on each letter, but it looks nicer than the first time.
The pen trembles in my hand. It hovers above the paper.
What do I even say?
I want to say so much to her.
Thank you for talking to me.
Each word takes so fucking long to write. It honestly would be faster if I tried speaking it. But this is better. I think. I hope.
You make me feel like I’m not a monster.
I don’t know if I can put into words this feeling in my chest. It’s like someone’s sitting on it. Like someone’s hand is squeezing around my heart.
She’s mine.
But I don’t know if I should say that.
I don’t want her to be afraid of me.
What if she doesn’t want to be mine?
I swallow hard past the lump in my throat.
I’m yours.
Be mine. Please.
“You okay there?” Ash asks, crouching down in front of me. “You’re breathing funny.”
Am I?
I blink at him, covering the notepad with my hand.
I shrug, sitting back on my haunches.
“What were you writing?”
I clutch the notepad to my chest and nod to the bathroom door. Towards where Mirabelle is.
“Ah, something for her. I think she’ll like that.”
His words have my tense shoulders relaxing.
I trust Ash.
Ash gets it. The red. The anger.
I gently tear off the note for Mirabelle and fold it in half. My hands are still shaky, so the fold is uneven. Hopefully, she won’t mind.
Then I crouch down again and start writing on a fresh page.
Are you sure?
I hold the notepad out to him.
“Well, I guess it depends on what you said to her, but knowing you, I think she’ll like whatever you have to say.
She’s had a soft spot for you since day one.
” He looks at me, his lips quirking up into a small smile.
Rare. He never did that before Mirabelle.
“You know, I’m glad you’ve got a way to get the words out.
I thought for a long time there wasn’t much of you left up there. ”
I feel weird talking. They didn’t like me talking. I think I cried a lot.
The pen shakes in my hand even more as I fight through the fog that is my memories. To the time before Ash. When I was all alone at the farm.
I was young.
I don’t remember how young.
But I remember the punishments. The pain. The confusion.
Then I got hurt. And I never talked again.
His eyes scan over my words before he nods slowly.
“That’s fucked, you know. They seriously wanted to turn us into animals,” Ash growls. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to talk again?”
I swallow hard and try clearing my throat. It’s a harsh, gravelly sound.
I know I can make noise. I make it all the time.
But talking is different.
I open my mouth.
I know I can do it. I did it with Mirabelle.
But Mirabelle is special.
“Maybe.” The single word is barely above a whisper. I wince as I speak, the phantom remembered pain of my throat getting stomped on radiating through my body.
“Fuck yeah, you did it!” Ash says, his face splitting into a true smile as he slaps me on the shoulder. “We’ll work on that, but that’s a fucking fantastic start.”
I nod slowly, my own lips quirking up to match his smile.
Maybe I can do this.