Chapter 5
Chapter Five
QUINN
Istomp my feet hard, letting Marco know I’m coming to find him. Marching through the kitchen, I scrape the chair over the tiles before diverting to the sink to splash water on my face to hide my tears.
Deena pokes her head out from under the table, her eyebrows raised in question.
“Bad allergies,” I insist, leaving her and going in the opposite direction of where Marco is.
My feet drag; it’s for him, so he knows where I am, but it’s also indicative of my reluctance to find him. I’m being selfish with the little time I have left.
I need to go, but it feels like the hardest thing I’ve done. And this time it is worse than our planned goodbye for some reason, perhaps because we have said our goodbyes already.
Walking right past where he is, I keep going until I’m back in his bedroom. And then I’m the one hiding, under his blankets, my nose buried in his pillow, inhaling his scent like a vacuum. It doesn’t take him long to find me.
He rips back his blanket, shrieking in victory. He starts jumping in the space between me and the wall. The light in his eyes and the healthy flush on his cheeks are something I needed to see.
Knocking him off his feet and pulling him close, I spin him around.
His back is to my chest, so he can read my hands as I tell him once again how proud I am of him.
Reminding me over and over how deep our love is, and how strong our small family is.
I’m using the short time I have left to emphasise again what I want him to focus on while I’m gone.
Deena knocks on the door of his bedroom, interrupting us. “Marco, can you help me with all the bags?”
He’s wiggling out of my hold before I can object.
But Deena’s not finished barking out instructions, better than an Alpha.
Her finger jabs in my direction. “And, you, the sooner you go, the sooner you get back. We will be fine. Marco is going to help me paint your room while you’re gone.
We can’t start on that until you’ve texted and let us know you’re home safe. ”
The sneaky woman reverts to dirty tactics to get me to leave because she knows I’d never deny Marco anything. He’s clearly excited when he peeks back into the room.
As I walk past her, she shoves tissues in my hand, giving me a final promise. “Quinn, I swear no one will get near either of us.”
“I think this is the worst part, you know.” I don’t need to explain what I mean, because one of my greatest fears is someone finding out about them.
But leaving them is keeping them safe too. The gentle warming in my soul confirms it.
“Quinn, don’t make me throw you out of your own home! I will, you know. It might be the way to do it, actually.” Deena’s shoulder checks me as she passes when I stall at the door, again.
Marco rushes out of my room with my bags in one hand and a couple of paint swatches in the other. He shoves them at me while he taps the bandage over my hand.
“Marco! Surprises are meant to be surprises!” Deena laughs.
His coy smile warms my heart.
“I expect full radio silence. So does he,” Deena says resolutely as I pass again.
I nod without saying a word.
I don’t want a year of not seeing them, or messaging, but I can’t guarantee I won’t be monitored while in Russia.
There’s a lucky break in the weather as the three of us pack my car, and I read it as a sign. There’s not much I need to put in my car, but with Marco involved, everything turns into a game. And rightly so. Life is meant to be full of fun times and raucous laughter.
Deena’s first in line for a goodbye. I bury my face against the crook of her neck and store as much of her scent and energy in my memory as possible.
She swats my shoulder playfully, no doubt because Marco is watching.
When we pull apart, I stop her escape. Wrapping my hand around her face, I drop my forehead to hers and get serious. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“How strange,” she whispers back, her voice full of unguarded emotion. “We share the same sentiment, Quinn. Please don’t forget, you’re the one who saved us back then. You’re the one saving us now.”
She gently removes herself, then catches Marco and thrusts him into my arms.
I look into his eyes, searching for confirmation he’ll be okay, and it’s there, blazing back at me in spades. He mouths off his goodbye before wrapping his arms around and squeezing harder than ever before.
The sight of the two of them doing a silly dance in my rearview mirror chases my guilt over driving away from them.
And by hiding my hair under my hat again and sliding the fake glasses back on, I slip into being a different person, which also helps.
Syncing my phone to my car stereo, I let a long, sweeping saga, full of mythical creatures doing everything in their power to avoid the inevitable, fated bond they share with their enemy, distract me as I drive. And drive and drive.
The time it takes to get back to my city apartment becomes both a physical and emotional barrier to my life here, including with Marco and Kade. I have to disassociate, or my worry will take over. I can’t afford any missteps. The last thing I need is my “husband” being paranoid or watchful.
Dinner happens. The same goes with packing and cleaning.
The proof of my actions are my suitcases and sparkling apartment.
I hope I’ve remembered to pack everything because I have no recollection of actually putting anything into my cases, besides a couple of important items. Perhaps I took the detachment too far.
A bath seems like a good idea to help me become more “me” again. Sinking down into the sea of bubbles, the soft jasmine scent, like a bouquet of flowers, surrounding me is lovely. The usual peace the bubbles and the smells bring is ruined by my own pensiveness.
I pull off the bandage, already knowing what lies underneath. I’d pay good money to hear someone explain how being in love with a Beta and being bitten by a random Alpha whose life I saved is going to bring me happiness.
In the soft glow of the candlelight, there’s no mistaking the bite is more than just a nasty workplace accident. The telltale silvering of the scar deepens every day and sparkles like I’ve dipped my hand into a jar of silver glitter.
It’s almost laughable that leaving for Russia is going to be the answer to those problems. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to run into Kade while having coffee in Russia.
Not seeing him should help my broken heart mend itself—it’s a lie I keep telling myself.
And there’s no chance of me seeing the Alpha who bit me.
The distance will mean his claim will dissolve away in time.
Hiding the bonding mark from my husband is the bigger worry.
Tomorrow’s monthly review meeting with the clinic director is going to be a good test of my makeup and acting skills.
Not even spending the night in my favorite pj’s lifts my mood. Admittedly, my mood is worse because I am shitting myself about meeting Dr. Billings. I know he’s going to check the bite. And me.
“Perhaps you should have time off, Quinn.”
I fight to contain the flood of relief at what he says.
Dr. Billings reads the puffy bags under my eyes as a sign of me being overworked.
As soon as he sat down, he was inspecting my hand. The expensive waterproof stage makeup is worth every dollar I spent on it because it passed his inspection. In between the server taking our order and our food arriving, he’s been dancing around the same topic.
“When was your last proper break? And I don’t mean days off the roster, I mean actually pack your bags and leave the city?” he asks, the challenge in his voice making it impossible for me to not answer.
“You know we’re understaffed at the clinic. We’ve been down staff all this month because of the flu too. You also know residents don't take extended leave during their tenure, Dr. Billings.”
He takes another sip of his coffee, placing it down before talking again.
“You are quite correct. I’ve never been a fan of the push for young doctors, or nurses, to work themselves to the bone in their formulative years.
It’s counterintuitive to having staff that doesn’t make mistakes.
Throw in that we’re community based, and I struggle sometimes to even accept that I’m holding you all back. ”
“That’s not true. We’re all there because we want to help, not because of the glory.”
“Still, I’m not a fan. The lack of funding is what is holding us back.”
I nod, agreeing.
We fall into an easy silence as he finishes off his eggs and I finish my coffee. Once our plates are cleared away, he smiles at me. Like a crocodile.
“You’re fired.”
“What?” I gasp.
People look over at my sudden outburst. I’m shocked, and it takes me staring at him to register what he said. And to realize how I walked straight into his trap. “You can’t sack me.”
“Wrong. I can. And I just did.”
I’m overcome with emotion; our breakfast meeting is turning out better than I could have hoped. I want to jump up and kiss his cheeks and thank him for saving me the formidable task of having to resign from the clinic, but if I reacted like that, he’d ask too many questions.
I seriously feel euphoric, like I’ve won the lottery.
Then he somehow makes my day even better. “I’d like you to hand over your staff badge and your access keys, Quinn.”
It’s immediate.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I triple-check with him while digging my keys and ID out of my bag.
As soon as my ID and keys are on the table, he swipes them up, then he sits back in his chair, looking like the cat that ate the canary.
“I’m also very serious about rehiring you and asking you to step into a more senior role with us.
After you’ve had a long vacation. I trust you will reach out to me when the time is right. ”
And then there’s no acting involved. I burst into tears, making everyone in the restaurant look our way again. A job once this is done and dealt with is a dream come true.
He passes over a clean napkin, and once I’ve got myself more under control, I look back at him. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done. And are willing to do for me, Dr. Billings.”
“It’s me that couldn’t thank you enough. I’ll have HR send over a draft contract. You and I have a lot of lives to change and save, Quinn.” He gives me a very non-professional hug, feeling more like a fatherly figure.
“I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Now you’re talking BS,” he says as his arms fall away. He collects all his things before looking at me. “Whenever you are ready and whatever you need.”
He heads over to our server and passes over enough money to pay for our breakfast meeting, as well as a hearty tip.
I sit back down, dazed at how this morning went and how neatly my time at the clinic has come to an end. It gives me a huge dose of confidence that stays with me during the rest of the day as I transition from the person I am to the person I need to be.
The next few days pass in a whirlwind of last-minute preparations and planning.
No matter how many tasks I cross off my list, it’s hard to distract myself from the knowledge that the time for leaving for Russia is upon me.
I stayed extra busy today, getting my hair done, a facial, shopping for necessities in the expensive boutiques I try to avoid.
It’s late at night when I finally stop for something to eat, at a McDonald’s, of all places.
A fast-food restaurant is a strange place to feel like I fit in.
All the other late-night diners look and dress as different as you can imagine, but we share an odd kinship.
No one looks strangely at my expensive Chanel suit or the atrociously oversized diamond engagement ring on my finger; I’m just another person dipping fries into a thick shake.