6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Sasha
“And how does that make you feel, Mr. Volvok?”
I swear if this fucking therapist asks me one more time how something makes me feel, I am going to flip this tiny-ass sofa.
Feel.
What a stupid fucking word.
As though years of anger, violence, and survival can somehow be wrapped up in one neat little emotion.
Like there’s a label capable of making sense of years spent clawing my way through life.
I don’t know how I feel. I know how to fight.
I know how to survive. I know how to bury every ugly thing that’s ever happened to me until it festers so deep inside me that it becomes part of who I am.
That’s what I know. Feelings? Those have always come second to survival.
If I had to narrow it down to one word, though.
Coward.
I feel like a fucking coward.
Like I’ve lost the only good thing that was ever meant for me in this world and crushed it. The one thing promised to me by fate itself.
I ignored every instinct telling me to protect her and our future and turned it into something so unrecognizable that even my own pack can’t look me in the eyes anymore.
And for what?
Because I couldn’t get a hold of my emotions?
Because I couldn’t see past the hurt and the torment I had no control over and instead forced her to carry it?
My Omega.
The one person who was never supposed to hurt me like everything else in this world had.
Instead, I was the one who hurt her. I wrapped my own hands around the best thing that ever happened to me and shattered it.
Because I wanted to. My anger and need for revenge had consumed me and I was the weak fucking bastard who let it.
And now, I pay for it with more suffering than I ever could have imagined.
Nothing in my life has ever felt as awful as it did the day I watched my Omega walk away.
It broke something fundamental inside of me.
Something that I fear will never be repaired.
Not that there was much of me worth saving to begin with.
I was already broken. Fractured beyond belief long before there was ever the possibility of Lennon.
She shouldn’t have been left carrying the wounds that were never hers to bear.
That was never what I wanted. Not deep down.
I just couldn’t see it then. But intentions don’t mean a damn thing when the outcome is the same.
I had been so consumed by my anger that it blinded me.
It didn’t matter who stood in front of me.
Lennon. Holden. Dominic. Anyone who tried to tell me I was wrong became another obstacle to push past. A price I’ll spend the rest of my life paying if that’s what it takes.
Not just for what I did to my Omega, but for what I did to my pack as well.
Holden and Dominic are far too good to me.
They don’t deserve to be shunned because of the choices I made.
They questioned me. They knew what I was doing was wrong and wanted to stop before it was too late.
They at least had a moral compass where I did not.
I don’t deserve either of them. I don’t deserve the love that comes with being in a pack, and I sure as shit don’t deserve their forgiveness.
What I do know is that I will work my ass off to become someone who does. Even if that takes the rest of my life.
I need to fix my brain.
I need to figure out what the fuck is wrong inside my head, not just for them…for me.
I need to be better for me.
If I can’t do that, I’ll never stand a chance of being worthy of them.
“Part of me is glad that I don’t have to worry about hockey, at least for the meantime, but another part of me is…” I trail off, trying to find the right words for what it is I am feeling.
It's new. Actually stopping my thoughts long enough to put words to emotions instead of pretending like they’re not there in the first place, burying the ones I do recognize beneath the weight of my anger.
Understanding more about the why instead of obsessing over the vice.
Trying to figure out what broke inside me before I let it keep breaking everyone else.
Something I should have been doing a long fucking time ago.
“...pained.”
Mrs. Kirkland nods, writing something down in her notepad. “That is understandable, Sasha. Hockey has been a fundamental part of your life. Not having that at the moment while you take your health leave would be difficult to navigate.”
She gives me her full attention. Her glasses have slipped down onto the tip of her nose but she doesn’t look down at me through them. She is kind. Far kinder than what I deserve.
“What you have suffered through during your thirty years of life is nothing minor, Sasha. You have faced demons that even the strongest of Alphas couldn’t bear.”
“But that doesn’t excuse what I did,” I murmur, my eyes suddenly finding my hands far more interesting.
“No, it does not,” she agrees. “But that does not mean that you don’t deserve grace as you navigate these times. You have chosen to seek help. Something others aren’t always prepared to do. The fact that you are here means there’s something good still inside of you, despite feeling the opposite.”
I look up at Mrs. Kirkland, a glistening of tears distorting her seated form. “So I’m not beyond redemption?”
She gives me a soft, solemn smile. “No, Sasha. You are not.”
I nod, even as the first tears begin to drip down my cheeks.
Even though I know she is just saying these things to make me feel better about myself, something in me still pains to hear those words.
To hear that I might not be a lost cause after all.
To know that I’m not someone who should just be discarded.
Though they’d have the right to walk away from me after everything I did.
I lost their trust. I don’t expect to earn it back overnight.
If the situation were in reverse, I’d probably walk away too.
But to hear that at the end of all of this, I might be someone worth keeping.
That I could be the person—the Alpha—they deserve one day.
That I might actually have a chance of standing beside my Omega again.
That’s the reason I wake up every morning.
I shut the front door gently, not wanting to draw any attention to myself more than I already have.
The pack has been splintered for months now.
I’ve hardly spoken to either of my mates since we watched Lennon walk from our lives with little more than a backwards glance and a big ‘fuck you’ to me.
Not that I blame her. Who wouldn’t after everything?
I’ve never felt more alone than I do right now.
I don’t have Holden, I don’t even have Dominic to rely on to be my calm as I have all these years.
That job has to be mine, and only mine if I’m ever going to get through this.
Which means, all I have are my thoughts and they seem to consume me day in and day out in their absence.
They’re here, but not. Present. But not in the way they used to be.
The rift I created, the harm I caused. It’s everywhere in our home.
It’s not their job to make it go away. It’s mine.
And I won’t lie and say that it hasn’t been hard, because it has.
Every quiet moment is another opportunity for my mind to replay everything I did to her.
To them. Every word. Every lie. Every look of fear that should never have existed between an Alpha and his pack.
The only thing that keeps me going on the days it feels easier to disappear beneath the weight of it all is the feeling in my chest that has finally started to shift.
That heaviness that has sat over my heart for so long no longer feels quite like suffocating.
Little by little, the edges have begun to soften.
Not enough for me to breathe freely, but enough to remind me that maybe I won’t feel like I’m drowning forever.
Walking into the kitchen, I pause, finding Dominic fixing himself a sandwich.
The smell of fresh bread and toasted cheese hits me immediately.
Something in my stomach rolls at seeing food.
I haven’t eaten today. I think I may have had a packet of crisps yesterday.
Maybe the day before. The days have all blurred together and without my pack, without hockey keeping me focused, I’m all over the place with time.
My own hunger hasn’t been something I have even given the smallest amount of attention to. The pain in my heart has long outweighed the pain in my stomach.
Dominic looks up, hearing the shuffling of my feet. For a split second, our eyes meet. He looks away first, and the loss only makes the feeling in my stomach worsen.
“Want a sandwich?” he asks, before straightening his shoulders and focusing on the task at hand. There isn’t any bite in his voice. No accusation. No warmth either. Just… exhaustion.
I swallow roughly before I reply, “Ah, yeah.”
The words scrape up my throat like broken glass, and I chew on my lip, anxiously wondering what the fuck am I supposed to do in this situation.
What should I say? Do I ask how his day was?
Do we talk about the weather? I used to be confident in myself.
In my decisions. But now that I have fucked everything up, I don’t trust myself not to ruin what semblance of a relationship we have left.
I’ve already made a fucking mess of things.
It's easier to remain quiet.
I take a seat at the bench, patiently watching Dominic. Maybe being here is enough. Maybe he’ll see the things I cannot say. He doesn’t owe me anything. I don’t expect him to talk to me. But…I miss him. them, and it’s killing me.
“How are you?” he eventually mutters, filling the silent space between us. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t look at me, and I get it. I do. But there’s a neutral tone to his voice, one that I can’t decide if it unsettles or calms me.