33. Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
Leah
" I had a dog once," I say almost to myself, but Jax tightens his grip.
"My parents brought him home when I was six. I think I knew, even then, that I’d be an only child.
Cuddles—" My lips twitch at the bittersweet memory. "That was his name. Cuddles. He was the most beautiful, silly dog. He’d fetch this neon green ball and bring it back, all slobbery, again and again. We’d go to the park after school and play.
" The words tangle up, thick in my throat.
"He was my best friend. I don’t know what happened to him after Haven.
After Mom and Dad died… I hope someone took care of him.
" Tears prick and I swipe at them before they can fall. "Sorry. I don’t know why I remember that right now. I don’t want this moment tarnished by sadness. "
"Thank you for telling me about Cuddles. I’ll treasure that memory with you now, Sunshine. You don’t have to carry it alone." Jax’s voice is a soft rumble, but his presence is so much more.
I try to wave off the weight, but Gabriel gives me no room for sadness.
He brushes past it with forced fear. "All right! Enough with the tears. Your pooch wouldn’t want you crying, Sweetheart.
He’d want you to eat." He beams at me, voice bright and deliberately upbeat. "Our Omega’s only had one bite this morning. That won’t sustain you.
Besides, I’m starving, and you need your strength to enjoy being out here. "
I sniff and nod, letting Gabriel’s energy sweep me toward the table under the shady tree in the center of the garden. "I really don’t want to be sad today, either."
Jax squeezes my hand and there’s so much pride and softness in his gaze it undoes me. "He’d want you to feel good. So do we."
Ronan is already pulling out a chair for me, the metal shock of it grounding me.
I slide into the seat, Gabriel and Jax settling in on either side while Ronan sets the basket on the table and flips open the lid, revealing a riot of pastries and fruit.
For a moment, I let myself revel in the sunlight and fresh air, grateful I’m here to enjoy something so many people take for granted.
Ronan sets a plate in front of me. Gabriel fills it with a generous heap of pastries, fat slices of fruit, a little tangle of greens slick with oil from a jar he tucked into the basket.
Jax slides a mug into my hands, steam curling up rich and bitter.
The smell of coffee melts into the fresh air.
It’s a touch cold out here, the kind of chill that nips at your cheeks and wrists, but I don’t care.
Not with the way their bodies bracket me, their laughter and voices winding around each other.
I let their conversation flow over me as I eat the delicious brunch.
I drift in the lazy tide, fill my belly and sip my coffee, content to stretch this moment until I can’t anymore.
The old uncertainty creeps back in, warning me that this won’t last. This is a reprieve and nothing more, but I just take another sip of my coffee and let the bitterness chase the shadows to the edge.
It’s not gone, but I don’t let it take over.
I think back to what they said about healing. How it isn’t a straight line and demands time. I want to believe them. I hope that somewhere, Mira and Emma have found their peace. It was us against the world for years. We were the only light in a darkness so thick it was never-ending.
Loneliness presses in, sharper than the morning air.
I can’t ever touch them again, not after what Wallace left in my blood.
I haven’t told the Alphas about that. Not the worst of it.
I will have to sometime, but not today. I push my sadness down with a swallow of coffee, and try to focus on the sun, the food, the rhythm of their voices.
It’s funny how I didn’t notice it before.
Maybe I was too caught up in nerves and newness, but now that I’m settled and breathing deep, I realize Gabriel had been dressed in black, not the casual sweatshirt and jeans he’s wearing now.
Strange, if he just went out to buy pastries.
There are bags under his eyes, and he looks tired.
A couple of nights ago, Ronan came back, similarly dressed in black, late into the night, looking just as exhausted.
Odd, when they’d told me they wouldn’t leave me.
"Where did you go this morning? Why were you and Ronan both dressed in dark clothing like you were trying to disappear?" I realize I’ve cut off their conversation. I was so deep in thought.
I expect a string of easy lies or some half-hearted reassurance, but Ronan’s expression sharpens. His eyes fix on mine, all softness burned away, voice stripped down to bone and truth. "We’ve been scouting. Looking for possible locations for where Hardwick might be hiding."
Shock stuns me silent for a beat, my mind scrambling to catch up. They’ve been doing that for me? Not just hiding me away and hoping danger forgets, but out there, hunting shadows so I can sit in the sun and sip coffee.
"We didn’t want to worry you, Sunshine," Jax says. "You need time to heal, and we want to give you that. But there’s no way in hell Hardwick doesn’t pay for what she did to you."
"For you to ever be fully safe, we need to find her. We need to end this. Really end it. Not just for you. For all the other Omegas she’s hurt," Gabriel says.
Ronan pins me with that serious, relentless gaze.
"We’ve narrowed it down to three locations out of a possible six.
I don’t want to scare you or press you for memories you’re not ready to share.
You don’t owe us anything you’re not willing to give.
But, do you have anything? Any scrap or detail, even if it doesn’t seem important, that might help us find her? "
All three fall silent, their focus palpable as they wait.
No pressure, but hope and worry tangle together in the fresh air.
For a moment I just breathe, letting what they’re asking wash over me.
They’re asking for things I don’t want to remember.
Things better left in the dark. But then, Espie’s face flashes through my mind, that split second when our eyes met at the facility, surprise turning to shuttered hopelessness beneath the bruising.
She’s still with them. Gods only know what Wallace is doing to her.
I can’t let it continue. I can’t let them keep destroying innocent lives. My discomfort in this moment is nothing compared to that devastation.
They must be stopped, and I might be the only survivor who can help. My Alphas are serious and powerful enough to give others a fighting chance. I dreamed of this kind of justice in those hours hurt and alone in a cold cell, and now I have them on my side. I should pull myself together and do this.
"Okay."
"Good, strong, perfect Omega,” Ronan whispers, and the words wash through me. The innermost part of me preens, not shying away at those words.
"Close your eyes, and think back, Leah. Anything you remember that stands out, even if you think it’s too little, could be just what we need," Gabriel says.
I shut my eyes, closing off the beautiful garden, and force my mind back to the place of nightmares.
Images flash though my mind. The gray cinderblocks I stared at for days, weeks, months.
The dull cinder block, the filthy mattress on the floor.
The air tastes stale, metallic, coiled with the phantom tang of terror.
The image of that cell claws through me and a dead weight settles over my chest, cold and suffocating .
I claw at the edge of the table, grasping for something real, something now. The garden, the sun, the cold metal of the chair all blur. Panic squeezes tight around my ribs and the world begins to tilt, my breath razored and shallow.
Jax’s arm sweeps around my shoulders and my eyes snap open. "Breathe, Sunshine. I’m right here. We all are." I tip into the curve of his body, and he tucks me in, anchoring me so I don’t fall away.
Ronan slides out of his seat, face carved tight with worry and intent. He comes to me and lifts me into his lap, settling me on his thick thighs as his arms close around me. His fingers brush up my spine, rubbing away the sudden chill. I burrow against him, and let his scent ground me.
His brushes his lips to the shell of my ear.
"You’re doing so fucking well, Kitten. Step back and just observe, don’t relive.
You’re not there anymore. You’re safe. The past can’t touch you here.
Just tell us what you see and hear. You’re in control now, Leah.
" He strokes up and down my back, each pass slow and steady, grounding me.
I bring myself back into the moment. Into Ronan’s arms caging me and the vibration of his voice rumbling through my bones. I let the memories filter back in.
"Are you there?" Ronan asks and I nod.
"Tell us what you see. You’re not there again. You’re only an observer."
I imagine standing in a corner of the room, looking down on the pitiful form of a body twisted over itself, shaking in the corner and stinking like fear.
I force my attention off her, to the surroundings.
"Cinder block walls. Gray. The cold there drills through bones. There’s a mattress in the corner, brown stains on it.
A blanket. Thin. Scratchy." My voice breaks and his arms get tighter, gentle but unyielding.
"Good Omega," he whispers. "You’re doing so well, Leah. Let it all flow over you. You’re not there. Not anymore. You’re never going back. This is all in the past. It can never hurt you again. Now, can you tell us what you hear?"