LI
Hazel Winters
M y head is pounding as I slowly pry my eyes open this morning. The stress of Atlas turning up at my door has clearly taken a toll on my body, manifesting in physical symptoms. My back aches from anxiety and I stretch it out before climbing out of bed.
Checking my phone, I sigh in relief when I see no new texts from the unknown number, but scowl when I read Sabrina’s.
She’s been sent away by Atlas, to a hotel suite with Sean. The only funny part of her message is when she tells me she keeps sending Sean for buckets of ice before pelting them individually at his head when he’s not looking.
They’ll definitely be fucking by the end of the week.
After taking a quick shower, I dress in some blue mom jeans with rips in and a black, short-sleeved crop top. I start to apply my skincare but pause when I hear a knock on my bedroom door.
Leaving the ensuite, I walk over to the door and open it, freezing when I see Dawson on the other side.
“Hey, Spitfire,” he greets me as he walks in with a tray of breakfast. He sets it down on my bed before turning to me.
“Wha- what are you doing here?” I ask, still stuck in the same position, with the door handle firmly grasped in my hand.
“I came to make you breakfast, obviously,” he nods to the plate of pancakes. My stomach rumbles at the sight of them but I ignore it, my head reeling at the thought of him being here.
“Are you all here or something?” I frown, finally releasing my grip on the door.
“We are,” Andros announces, slipping into the room with a grin on his face. Theo filters in behind him, and Atlas rounds off the group by being the last one in.
“Sure, let’s just have a party in my room. Invite yourselves in, why don’t you?” I drawl, sarcastically, kicking the door shut and leaning against it with my arms crossed.
Dawson settles on the middle of the bed whilst Andros leisurely sits up against the headboard. Theo hovers next to the bed with his hands stuffed in his pockets, whilst Atlas leans against the window opposite me, his foot kicked over the other.
They all look at me expectantly in their impeccable suits. Andros is wearing his usual, tan-coloured slacks, with a white shirt tucked in and showcasing his darker brown belt. His hair falls in natural golden waves around his face, stopping short just above his ears.
Dawson’s V-neck navy sweater strains against his muscles, rolled up to his elbows to showcase the intricate tattoos on his forearms. His dark hair is messily tousled atop his head in a way only Dawson could pull off. His white shirt peeks underneath, untucked over his black suit trousers.
Theo is the only one to wear a blazer, his black suit only missing a tie to stop it from being fully formal. His white shirt is unbuttoned at the top, the tattoo creeping up to his neck fully on show. His chestnut curls look like he’s run his hand through them multiple times but still look like perfect small locks.
Unsurprisingly, Atlas has made himself at home, having ditched his blazer. His Baby blue dress shirt is unbuttoned at the top and partially untucked from his black suit trousers.
“So, this is where you’ve been staying,” Andros comments with a pointed look to Atlas. I frown at his words, having expected them all to know where I was sent, seeing as they were the ones who sent me here.
“We’re sorry for not coming sooner, Little One,” Theo’s eyes meet mine as he speaks and I almost break at the sincerity and emotion in them. Instead, I manage to hold on and stay strong.
“We have a plan to make it up to you, if you’ll hear us out,” Atlas announces and I turn to him with a sceptical look on my face.
“If I hear you out, do I have to forgive you?” I ask, making sure I don’t fall for any of their tricks.
“You don’t… but you will,” Dawson smiles cheekily. I roll my eyes and clear my throat, gesturing with my hand for them to present their scheme.
“The only catch is that we have to go back to England,” Atlas says, reigniting the anger I feel towards them.
"I'm not relocating AGAIN! You told me to stay at your house. I did. You said we were going to Italy. I went. You told me to go to New York. I fucking went. I am not fucking moving again" I snarl at him.
"It's not safe here," he murmurs, shrugging his shoulders as if it's not a big deal.
I walk towards him, staring up at his chiselled face as he looks down at me. A smirk begins to appear, making me scowl.
I've never wanted to slap someone so hot so hard right now.
"Firstly, wipe that smirk off your face," I keep my voice menacingly calm, causing him to raise his eyebrow at me, "Secondly, I refuse to move again when you keep lying to me about what's going on."
"You want to know what's going on?" He asks, tilting his head smugly at me.
"It's what I've been asking for weeks now," I narrow my eyes at him, a silent challenge in my gaze. He stays silent, keeping eye contact with me. His piercing eyes burn into mine and I try not to flush under his gaze.
“You have a chip in your arm that tells Alexei your live location,” he says matter-of-factly. Gasping, I take a step back and a wave of dizziness hits me. It all starts to click into place - how the unknown number can message me as though they’re watching me and how they know I’m in New York.
Fuck.
The pounding in my head increases until my vision goes blurry. At this point, I can’t tell if it’s pain or tears clouding my eyesight. I keep stepping back until I’m in the corner of the room, where I slip down and hug my knees to my chest.
I think I’m crying now, my cheeks wet as my body shakes uncontrollably. People are crouched in front of me but I can’t see their faces. I can’t understand the words they’re mumbling to me. The only thing I can hear is a high-pitched ringing as my world comes crashing down around me.
He knows where I am.
He’s always known.
A hand gently touches my forearm but I instinctively flinch away. It doesn’t move, though, instead slowly stroking my skin until I’m forced back to reality. My breathing is laboured as I try to catch my breath.
“I want it out,” I manage to whisper, despite my dry mouth.
“A doctor is on the way, Little One,” Theo says. I look up to see him crouched in front of me, his hand still stroking my arm to ground me in reality.
“I need it out,” I plead, my voice slightly stronger. Desperation radiates from me and I can tell Andros is affected by it. He slides to sit down against the wall next to me before pulling me onto his lap. I don’t fight it, letting him comfort me despite still being mad at them.
“We have to wait for the doctor, Angel,” Andros mumbles in my ear, before kissing the side of my head.
I look over to Dawson, who is standing away with a pained look on his face as he watches me.
“Please,” I say to him, my voice breaking. He looks conflicted for a few seconds before nodding his head once, making me sag against Andros in relief.
“I’ll take it out,” Dawson tells the others. Theo and Atlas move out of his way as he crouches in front of me but voice their arguments against him cutting it out of me. He waves them away and pulls a pocket knife out of his suit trousers.
“Let me take care of it, Angel,” Andros says, waiting for me to give him permission. I nod and he begins to carefully prod along my arms. He finds my implant and hesitates over it before moving on to the other arm.
“Got it,” he tells Dawson as he holds onto the inside of my left arm. He presses down on the chip and I frown.
“How did I not know that was there?” I ask Andros.
“You wouldn’t unless you were looking for it,” he reassures me. I close my eyes as Dawson brings the knife closer to my skin and squeeze them shut as the metal makes contact.
It pushes through the barrier, drawing a line down my inner arm. I peek one eye open to see the knife now wedged in between his teeth and a pair of tweezers in his hand. Closing it again, I bite my lip at the pain of him rummaging inside my arm for the chip.
He pulls on something and wiggles it out of my arm, before something soft is applied to my skin. Opening my eyes fully, I watch as Theo wraps a tourniquet above the cut as Andros presses a cotton gauze harshly against the incision to try soak up the bleeding.
I hadn’t realised Atlas had left until he walks in with a Doctor following closely behind. Dawson gives her space to work and she kneels in front of me, immediately pulling an injection needle from her work bag.
“This should help with the clotting,” she informs me before stabbing the needle into my vein and administering the liquid inside the syringe. It takes a few minutes for the bleeding to slow down, but Andros finally peels the soaked gauze from my arm once I’ve started to clot.
“I’m Doctor Pond, by the way, but you can call me Julie” she smiles up at me and I nod, smiling back at her.
“Hazel,” I introduce myself.
“Let’s get you stitched up, Hazel.”
The others filter out as Julie starts to work on my arm. She numbs the area until I can’t feel anything but the pressure she’s applying. My eyes drift close as she stitches the wound, exhaustion and peace floating over me.
The messages will stop now.
He can’t find me.