12. Chapter Twelve #2
Her eyelids flutter as she struggles to stay awake.
"Sleep, Kitten. You’ve done well." Ronan kisses her temple before adjusting her to cradle her head.
Her small hands come up to tighten in his t-shirt as she jams her nose against his neck and breathes in deep.
He drapes the towel back over her, shielding her from the cool air, his touch gentle.
Tension bleeds from her body as sleep drags her under and I finally relax.
I sit back on the couch and try to ignore my aching balls.
Adjusting myself, I ignore the cooling wet spot at the front of my clothing.
I run my hands over my face, exhaustion creeping over me before I pin Ronan with gritty eyes. "Gods, did you see what they did to her? "
The towel drapes over her like a shroud, but it can’t hide the truth.
I can’t unsee the evidence of her abuse.
The thin, raised scars and fresh punctures trailing up the delicate veins of her arms, the skin in the crook of her elbows is puffy, the blue of her veins too pronounced through overuse.
The insides of my eyelids are seared with the line of her collarbones and her yellow and purple mottled skin.
Rage sours in my gut. I bite down on my tongue, trying to hold back the instinct to tear everything apart.
I look at Ronan, my voice low and tight.
"How many times did Hardwick strap her down, do you think?
How many times did she scream while they pumped her full of whatever poison came close to hand?
Did you hear her? She said she had a heat every month.
" The words shudder free, suffering riding the edges.
"Every fucking month , Ronan." I struggle to swallow the frustration behind my words. I can’t lose it. Not when she’s finally resting.
Ronan lets out a growl that rattles through me, shaking Leah where she’s buried against him. He tightens his arms around her body until he remembers himself and loosens his hold.
Jax groans as he runs his hands over his face. "They burned her out. They just… drained her dry."
My hands curl into fists when they start to shake. "Her whole system’s wrecked. Her instincts, her trust, her body’s rhythm is shattered. There’s no wonder she reacts the way she does. She’s teetering on a sharp edge fueled with anger."
I bet she blames herself. When someone's been hurt like that for years, they start thinking they must have done something to deserve it.
Like they're the problem. It gets so deep in their head that you can't just tell them they're wrong.
We're gonna have to show her, every single day, that none of this was ever her fault.
Leah shifts in Ronan’s arms and her forehead creases, no doubt her heat making her uncomfortable. Ronan thrums a steady purr, and she calms. My chest is tight, thinking of how long she’s gone without this most basic of comforts.
Ronan’s hand is idly combing through Leah’s hair, his jaw tight. "The law’s going to let Hardwick rot in some cell if they catch her. "
Tension knots my hand into a fist. "That’s not justice. Prison will be a fucking vacation compared to what she did." I stare at Leah sleeping, her face pinched. "She’ll get a trial and hire a hot-shot lawyer who will no doubt get her off most charges."
The thought rankles, because it’s true. Hardwick has money and a lot of it. Enough to pay for the best defense. There’s no justice in that.
Jax stews over my words. "Then we do something about it. She’s underground, probably in the old rail network. It’s a warren of hundreds of disused tracks, junctions, blockhouses. Hardwick could be crawling anywhere down there."
Criminals on the run all end up making the same tired moves. Hide underground. Block exits. Set traps and watch the news cycle for whispers of pursuit. They think they’re clever and original, but they’re not. We’ve tracked worse into tighter holes and always crawled back out on top.
My pulse thrums, cold and ready. I’m not just on board, I’m eager for it. Taking Hardwick out is both justice and survival. This is personal. For Leah, for every Omega Hardwick’s ever hurt, and will hurt again if she goes free.
Ronan is already thinking three steps ahead. "I’ll dig up the blueprints. Every city department has copies stashed away. It’ll only be a matter of crashing through a few firewalls, then we can map out possibilities."
"Hardwick won’t be alone. She’ll have this Wallace. Guards and other sycophants. Gear, food, maybe other victims. They’ll need a large enough space for a lab and to do that, they’ll need power and space," Jax says.
That monster’s already living on borrowed time.
The sheer magnitude of her sins boils in my gut.
Hardwick’s trail is lined with lives torn apart, vulnerable people turned into prey.
And she’s still at it. Every hour she’s free, somewhere in the dark, she’s destroying someone else.
I hate it. I hate her for it. The longer she draws breath, the more suffering she brings.
The law can’t reach deep enough to stop her. But we can.
"I hope Leah can find it in her heart to trust us," I mutter, the truth burning in my throat .
Trauma like hers doesn’t go away. Not after fucking years of abuse. My skin crawls with the thought that someone so fragile, so innocent, has been subjected to the sick and twisted things Mercer, Turns and Hardwick have done to her. They’ve taken so much from her, mind, body and soul.
"Then we don’t ask her to. We don’t expect her to do anything. We just be here for her. Help her in whatever capacity she needs it in the moment. And we wait. We wait until she’s ready to fully accept us," Jax says.
Ronan’s hand is gentle as his thumb tracks Leah’s cheekbone, and I see our prime is as lost to her as both Jax and me. "Even if it takes decades."
A shadow creeps in before I can hide it, because that’s a big ask and we all know it. Ronan’s stare meets mine, sharp as a thrown knife. He doesn’t say a word, just watches me, a dare in his eyes. No doubts allowed.
I hesitate, then nod. "Yeah. She’ll heal."
I tell myself I believe it. I have to. Because we’ll go to any lengths to make her world safe until she finally believes it is.