29. Kenny
Kenny
S itting awkwardly on the bed, buried in a navy-blue hoodie that smells like fresh laundry and a pair of comfortable leggings, I wait.
My eyes shift back to the glass.
They’re out there. I know they’re out there. Abrams is there too.
But my heart still beats unsteadily. Sweat prickles against my hairline, even though it’s never quite warm enough in this stupid room.
I’m getting out . I repeat the words to myself, trying to manifest it. I’m going home.
Wherever that is. I picture it in my head. Jake’s kitchen. The hallway. The living room. The stairs, building a picture in my head.
Although my mind skitters away from the nest. Sighing, I run my hands down my thighs.
They have to let me out.
They can’t keep me here. Not when I’m… healthy.
My fingers slip into my mouth, brushing against the sharp edges. Still there. Maybe all my edges are sharper now.
I take a long breath, trying to soothe myself. My fingers brush against Max’s hoodie, my fingers twisting into the worn material. He put it on me himself, peeling it off and nudging me into it while it was still warm from his body heat.
It feels a little like cheating, but I took it anyway. It makes me feel a little less alone as I wait for whatever is in store for me.
Ridiculous, Ken. You shouldn’t be so reliant on them.
Maybe the Center is right, to test me like this. They can’t always be with me. Although even the thought of that has me flinching from empty air.
I jump again as the red light over the doorway flashes, announcing the sliding of the door. The woman that walks inside, her footsteps slow and cautious, feels familiar.
She draws herself up, coming to a stop a few feet away. The smile on her face doesn’t look real. “Hello, Kennedy.”
“Hello.” My eyes dart to the male who enters next.
He’s an alpha , and the realization makes me shrink back. He stares at me with pale, ice-blue eyes, a thick, neatly trimmed beard and greying blond hair slicked back with a little too much gel.
He smells like… money. And plenty of it. From the heavy-looking silver antique watch on his wrist to the tips of his shiny black perfectly laced shoes and the waxy sheen of his skin.
He reminds me a little too much of Charles Rivers, and I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself.
This is nothing. Oscar’s voice echoes in my ear. You can do this.
Slowly, I force myself to straighten, offering him a small nod of greeting as he silently assesses me. “Hi.”
“Do you remember me?” The beta shifts forward, drawing my attention. Even as more people enter the room. Lots of them, wearing thick, padded suits as they spread out. Enclosing me in a circle.
My chest tightens as I’m surrounded. I try to concentrate. “I… no. I’m sorry. Although you feel familiar.”
She nods. Her eyes flicker to the alpha, and away. “My name is Joanne. I’m your caseworker.”
I remember now. Remember our phone conversation, when I asked to be collected. But by the time she came, I was already gone. “That’s right. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet properly before.”
“Because you were feral.” The words don’t come from her.
The alpha waves a hand, smiling. But it doesn’t reach his eyes. “My apologies, Kennedy. You’re probably wondering who I am. My name is Thomas Parker. I’m the chair of the board here. We’ve been overseeing your care very closely since you came to us, working with your pack.”
I force the sceptical look from my face. “I appreciate it.”
He dips his head in acknowledgment. “This is… unexpected, to say the least. We’ve never had a feral change back to a… shall we say, normal state.”
His eyes drag over me, making my skin crawl. “Of course, that begs the question of what we do with you now. There are lots of questions to answer, of course.”
As if I’m an experiment. “I told Dr. Abrams that I’d be happy to help with any data he needs.”
Parker tilts his head. “Of course. Abrams is an excellent doctor. But as the board, we have a greater responsibility. To everyone here. To the people outside these doors who deserve to feel safe. And of course, to you. You are our ward, after all. Legally, we have the final say over your wellbeing. You agreed to that when you joined us. And as chair, I bear the responsibility of making decisions on your behalf.”
My throat threatens to close. “My circumstances have changed. Surely that no longer applies.”
“And yet.” Parker spreads out his hands, looking mildly apologetic and yet… threatening. His eyes meet mine. “There is no legal precedent for your situation.”
Beside him, Joanne shifts. As if she’s uncomfortable.
My fingers twist and pull at Max’s hoodie, faint tendrils of his scent reaching me that I breathe in, trying to calm the panic that threatens to drown me at his words.
They’re going to try and keep me here. I can see it in his face. There’s no kindness. No compassion. Only an icy need for control.
Of me.
“Now, then.” I flinch away as Parker steps forward. One blond eyebrow flicks up. “You’re rather… jumpy.”
My eyes slip to Joanne. She makes a note on her clipboard. And Parker – he folds his arms. “I’m going to ask you some questions, Kennedy.”
I watch him warily. “Just questions?”
“Yes. They may seem strange. But every bit of information could be relevant, so please be honest.”
My head bobs. Parker studies me.
It starts out easily enough. My name. My details. Each question clipped and short. Until he flips it. “Your mother. She left you with Rick Traylor, correct?”
I stiffen. “Yes.”
“Why?” Parker asks mildly. “Did she carry the feral gene?”
“I don’t know.” My brows knot. “I don’t think so.”
“What about your father? Did you ever ask him?”
“No.” I pick at the sweatshirt. “But that’s not what turned me. It was… Brett.”
I stumble over his name. My shoulders hunch forward, and I glance to the mirror. Parker follows my gaze. “They’re not out there.”
My eyes slide to his. It’s like a bucket of cold water hitting my body. “What?”
His face settles into something resembling sympathy. “They went out. To run some errands, I believe. Do you feel close to your mates, Kennedy?”
They… left? “They wouldn’t leave.”
My breathing starts to speed up. He’s watching every movement. Assessing me. And I feel myself start to crumble.
Parker clicks his tongue. “I’m afraid they have. But that’s not a bad thing. How do you feel when they’re not with you?”
“Fine.” I force out the word, hiding my shaking fingers in the folds of Max’s hoodie. “I’m not their keeper.”
“But you are their mate,” he says smoothly. “What would you do if they weren’t with you? Out there?”
I don’t understand what he’s asking me. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. “Can I have some water, please?”
“In a minute. Can you answer the question, Kennedy? Do you feel able to cope without them?”
“I’ve done it before.” My words come out in a snap.
Parker sighs. “But we’re talking about now. If something… happened to them. How would you cope? Alone?”
Alone . I squeeze my eyes shut. “I want to stop.”
Nothing is going to happen to them . Even the thought of it pulls a small, broken sound from my throat. “Please. I’ll – I’ll try again. Later. Stop.”
“I don’t mean to distress you.” Poison drips from his tone, layered in a sugared lie. “But these are important questions, if you’re going to be allowed to leave the Center. They could leave you, Kennedy. They’re not waiting for you out there now. Are you sure you can trust them? It’s not the first time they’ve let you down, is it?”
I fold over at the waist. Burning. At the back of my eyes, blurring the floor in front of me. “They’re trying. Nobody is perfect.”
“But you need to be,” he says sharply. “Or you’ll be a danger to everyone around you. And you’re not ready, Kennedy. Are you?”
Pain . In my chest. I choke on the words. “I want to go home.”
With them. I want to be with them.
Polished shoes appear in my line of sight. Parker’s voice drops low. “But you don’t have a home. Do you?”
It’s a direct strike. Straight into my chest.
My lips curl back, and I snarl at him, my canines on full display as the noise ripples from my throat into the otherwise silent room.
Get away.
He smiles at me then, Parker. As if he’s won a game I didn’t know we were playing. “Still a little feral, then?”
I snap my mouth closed as he straightens, scrabbling back until my back bangs into the metal bedframe and wrapping my arms around my knees.
He smooths a hand over his gold tie. “A little more time is needed, I think. And given that you are healing, it’s only fair that we resume your original arrangements. Visiting will be limited to an hour per day, so you can focus on getting better.”
My face crumples. “But—,”
“Don’t worry,” he says easily. “We’ll try this again. Perhaps next month.”
A month. Another month in this room, beneath this light. And I have no doubt that Parker will find a way to keep me here longer.
No windows. No air.
Another cage.
No. I can’t.
I can’t.
“Please,” I sob the word. “I want to go home.”
I want them.