This Thing of Ours

Chapter 28

28

Layne

T aking our time to walk around, inspecting the damage from the attack, I quickly realize it’s not about assessing what needs to be repaired. It’s about being seen in public as a show of their strength in the face of adversity. Valentine rises to the challenge like a good leader would, checking on anyone hurt, seeing if they need anything before he focuses on the bigger picture—trying to figure out who attacked them.

It takes hours. And no matter how long and exhausting the day turned out, I still need to share with my husbands the ugly truth about the Omega they married. Thankfully, I get a moment to myself when the—my—pack goes to shower. Time away from them gives me space to think and lets me prepare as much as I can. And the distraction of feeding the dogs settles my anxiety more.

Both the dogs are so obedient, neither of them reacting when I sit on the floor between the two of them eating. There is no way I would risk coming between a dog and their food, but Edward and Bella are not normal, though I think they’re pretty thrilled with the life they lead. There’s a part of me that hopes, in their downtime, they are madly in love and trying to find a way to escape, so they can just frolic and bark, chase frisbees, and have puppies, because isn’t that what life is about? Being free and happy.

Dante walks back in first, looking tasty in his charcoal gray sweats, his phone pressed to his ear. He points to his mouth, and when I don’t move quickly enough, he clicks his fingers. I know what he wants, but I don’t move a muscle. If I raced over there and kissed his lush mouth, he’d run with it and never stop running with it.

He rolls his beautiful blue eyes at my unwillingness to jump up and race to him, and even before I can climb to my feet, which is what I was going to do, he moves first and closes the distance between us. Muting the call he’s on, he slams his lips to mine, kissing me long and hard. He seriously leaves my head spinning as he swipes his thumb over my bottom lip, staring deeply into my eyes. “ Il mio tutto .”

“You good?” I ask.

“Yeah. Hang on, let me finish this call.” He slides on the floor and rests his head against the kitchen cabinets as he talks in a mix of Italian and English. I go to climb up, to start getting some food together, but he grabs my arm, holding me in place by lifting his arm and cuddling into me. Damn sneaky Alpha.

I talk quietly to the dogs. They’re ready for some playtime, and Edward races off to find a toy as soon as I release him from being on active protective duty. He returns with three balls jammed in his mouth, looking like a chipmunk, and Dante flips the call to mute again before taking a couple of photos at how silly the dog looks before getting all serious talking shop again.

He's flipping and flopping between being an Alpha and being a sweetie, exactly like my heart is doing.

I get a lapful of balls, and Bella and Edward brace for fun. As I throw balls in all directions, the two of them scatter, the noise of their nails on the timber flooring making me grimace, but I figure Pack De Luca has enough money to get the floors sanded if need. The sentiment is confirmed when the dogs disappear down the long corridor before they tear out of it, being chased by both Matteo and Valentine.

It’s not hard to imagine this is us; it’s just hard to believe sometimes. But that’s what tonight is about. Reaching up for a quick peck, I stand and leave Dante on the kitchen floor with the other two wearing out the dogs while I search the fridge and the freezer for ingredients.

Since their kitchen is state of the art, it’s no surprise that I find everything I need. Choosing some steak as big as my head, I start seasoning and preparing a salad and baked potatoes—comfort food necessities.

“You want me to cook that for you?” Valentine curls behind me, smelling divine after his shower. Nothing like the stressed and angry Alpha from before.

“I want us to stay together, so long as you can grill in here, yes, please. Otherwise, I’ll manage.”

He stays behind me, using his feet under mine until I’m in front of the stove. He disappears for a moment, then reappears with a huge hot plate that he slides over the gas burners on the stove. When he presses a button, the stainless steel range hood drops a couple of feet.

Matteo is the last to join, looking as casual as the others. And seeing these men out of their suits is bad for my intention of spilling secrets. Hot damn, I want to put the food away and spend the night with my hands in their pants and on their bodies. The way they flip my switch so easily has me running off on a tangent in my head. I start sorting through everything I know about being an Omega, like having heats. It’s kind of like getting one tiny cramp in your tummy, and all of a sudden, you’re calculating when you ovulated last.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I growl, twisting in Valentine’s tender hold. The three of them stay in my line of sight, so I can see the impact on their faces when I drop my latest little bomb. “I think I’m on the edge of a heat.”

And then they throw me with their reactions, pretty much mirroring each other. Nothing but pure lust burns in their eyes, and the kitchen feels like a steam room with the near choking combined scent of them—affogato.

I flick the exhaust fan to high, so I don’t slide right into the next phase.

Valentine takes charge, locking up his scent the fastest, but also picking me up and carrying me over to a kitchen stool, which he then carries back to where I was. Then he checks the temperature of the griddle, pokes the potatoes to see how close they are, and finishes dressing the salad.

“I’m not an invalid,” I grouse.

“Better to save your energy, though. No shit, the things I want to do to you, Layne…you’ll need every opportunity to store your energy. Plus, this way, we can talk at the same time. How long do we have until your heat hits?”

“How annoyed will you be if I say we might have to postpone our wedding reception? Or I can take some tabs and delay it until after. Before you say no, we need to think through it, because there is still time to stop the cycle and it wouldn’t hurt me in the least.”

No one says anything to that, which probably means I hit a note.

“Okay, let’s start back at today before we make decisions about your heat. Once everything is on the table, then we decide,” Matteo says, sliding over an open beer. “Or you do decide because you know we will back you up whatever you want to do.”

He walks past me, opening one of the balcony doors before he stands out on the covered patio and lights a cigarette. I look at him, shocked as hell.

“Sorry. Bad habit.”

My phone pings, and Dante slides it over the counter before following Matteo outside, looking a little guilty too. He sits down on the large outdoor lounge and opens a drawer, pulling out his stash, by the looks.

“House is locked up tight. Everything is done. I’m getting wasted as fuck while I listen to my wife explain how she knows Diego and Rosa, and then lets us know what she’s currently reading on her phone. We’re eating, then going to bed.”

“You have the whole night planned, huh?”

“And the morning. I’m planning on sliding inside your pussy before the sun hits the horizon.”

“All right, I’m talking fast, so make sure you listen. You keep talking booty calls, and I’ll be in heat tomorrow instead of the end of the week!”

“It’s only affecting you because you love my idea so much,” Dante teases before lighting up and taking a deep hit of the joint.

He waves me over, and I’m tempted, but if I have one puff, I’ll end up on his lap, eating M the look in his eyes is akin to hate. “So, I had a little run-in with Rosa on the plane when I was coming here.”

His eyebrows pitch in question, and from behind me, Dante laughs. “Please tell us you told her to fuck off before accidentally stabbing her with a fork or something.”

“Kind of.” I laugh, twisting around.

Swinging to sit so we can all see each other, I spill my brief-but-intense meeting with Rosa. Not even leaving out how I basically called her a piece of shit.

Valentine sits like he’s about to start cross examining me. “And the text you got in the car on the way back from lunch?”

I look at him, before sweeping my gaze around to the others too. “Jana had a visitor at the restaurant when she wasn’t there, asking about Allison Monet.”

“Did they leave a name or calling card?” Matteo asks gently.

“Nope. Jana is getting a snippet of the security feed, so I can see who it is.”

Valentine’s eyes are hardening as he gets more and more pissed off. “Who do you think it is?”

“Not many people know Allison, which makes me think it was Rocco.”

“The person responsible for your extensive injuries?” Valentine’s words are clipped but there’s an edge of violence coating each of them.

“The very one.”

“Rocco who?” Dante pushes, beating Valentine. But only just.

“Rocco Quinn.”

Valentine looks away, and it’s like watching a computer doing a search. Dante and Matteo stay close, and aren’t distracted by their thoughts.

“Layne, you know we did a background check on you, and we knew about Allison,” Dante says, sitting back, not looking relaxed but not looking freaked out, either.

I nod, and he goes on as he leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. “We got copies of your file from the doctors who assessed your injuries, along with a copy of the complaint you made with the police.”

“Okay.”

“It gets weird. Because the copy we got didn’t include any information on the person who attacked you. Anything pertaining to him was blacked out.”

I exhale loudly, not hiding my frustration. I shouldn’t be annoyed the report got twisted and Rocco’s identity ended up being protected instead of mine, but I am. I am well-versed in how manipulative some Alphas can be. Valentine puts the steak on the grill.

The simple gesture is a visual reminder that I’m here with Pack De Luca, and not in a different place with a violent gangster.

“I can hear your thoughts from over here, Layne. You already know the reason they redacted anything to do with him. The police are being paid off.” Dante’s voice is like a beacon, keeping me focused and on track.

“It was a deliberate move on my part to press charges. Even after the detective told me Rocco was involved in a gang, who apparently has connections to the Bratva.”

I’m back to reading Valentine’s reactions carefully. But he comes in close and wraps around me from behind.

“I never said I would take the stand against him being involved in a gang,” I explain. “That would be suicide on my part, because I know how muddy the waters can get. I didn’t know if the police were in the pockets of the gang he was involved with, or if there is any truth in that gang being one of the Bratva. But I couldn’t let him just walk out without being punished. I thought I would be giving the good guys the chance they needed to keep him in jail if they successfully got him arrested.”

Valentine’s arms around me tighten. And I suspect I already know where his head is, because they keep saying they know about the report on my injuries.

“You can ask me anything,” I say, rocking with him, suspecting he’s worried about the assumptions the team treating me made and undoubtedly reported.

“Did he rape you, Layne?”

I shake my head in answer, though my emotions bubble up, and I am right back in the memories of how close he came to raping me. I don’t hide the trauma from showing in my eyes, and the guys see it.

It’s like the world stops turning until we all get our emotions back in control. When it starts turning again, the rest of what happened tumbles out of my mouth. It’s as hard as it was the first time, but I feel safe telling them.

“It was so quick. And, in a way, that’s what freaks me out the most. I knew I had to break it off with him. He was getting mouthy if I changed plans or didn’t want to catch up. One morning, he didn’t like something I said when he came into the café where I worked. He threw his coffee at me before storming off, then returned a couple of hours later with a bunch of cheap flowers and an apology. But I was so done and had been for a while.

“I asked if we could have a drink at a bar before going back to his place, which I rarely did. He should have read that as a red flag, but he was oblivious and so focused on me asking him out after he’d been such a dick in front of everyone, he ignored the obvious. The second I sat down in the bar, I cut off our very casual relationship. He was upset and overly apologetic, but inside, he was clearly raging. As soon as I finished saying what I needed to, which was leave me the hell alone , I left. Apparently, there’s a second door I never knew about, and when I was passing the alley at the side of the bar, he jumped me.”

I take a big deep breath, and no one interrupts or moves a muscle.

“He grabbed me from behind, cracked my face into a wall, then barked in my face to force my submission. I remember fighting him off however I could, but I was also aware he was on the edge of turning feral. Except, Rocco was also very aware of what he was doing and how scared I was. He kept laughing in my face while ripping my hair and tearing at my clothes.”

I stop talking, half reliving the moment, half trying desperately not to.

“But you fought back,” Dante adds after a few tense and drawn-out seconds. I lock on to the hint of admiration in his voice, finding the will to keep going and get it all off my chest. Once and for all.

His statement, coupled with the pride in his voice, is like a small nudge to keep going. It’s encouraging, as is the fact the three of them don’t jump into rescue mode. I know they want to—I can see the clawing need in their eyes—but I also know they won’t until I reach for them.

“I did. Before I transitioned, there was a lot of expectation I would be a Beta or an Alpha. My parents never considered I’d be an Omega. I had equestrian club in the mornings before extra study sessions with tutors. After school, it was either more riding or weapons classes with a former marine. I fucking hate horses, by the way, but I was a fast study with all the physical stuff, and it’s one of a handful of things I’m grateful my family did for me. Without it, I never would have made it this long by myself, and I’m pretty sure Rocco would have killed me.

“I have no idea how I managed to fight him off, but I came to in the back of an ambulance. The next time I woke, I was in the ER and had a representative from the local Omega Rescue Center holding my hand and a group of detectives wanting an interview.”

Matteo lights another cigarette, Valentine flips the steaks, and Dante waves me on.

“I don’t stay long in any one place because of how deep my family’s influence is. I have a healthy aversion to anyone holding office or in a uniform because I know what people will do for money and to get ahead. But Rocco’s parting gift was to burn my apartment down, destroying what little I had.”

Matteo scoffs, disgust in his mannerism and words. “What a dickhead. He thought you’d return after he did that?”

“The detective I was with was shocked by how quickly Rocco reacted. He drove me to the airport, gave me whatever cash he had in his wallet. Gypsy handed over her belongings and three plane tickets.”

“To partially conceal your destination,” Matteo says, then shakes his head. “But they fucked up—they should have put you on a train or a bus.”

“They did the best they could,” I say, pointing out the obvious. “Both the detective and the lady from the center took it upon themselves to help on a personal level, which is more than most people I have met over the years.”

Dante reclines, trying to look relaxed, but his muscles are tight and I can scent how close he is to coming over. “How long have you been running?”

“Too long.”

“Yeah?” he says, moving again on the seat.

“Maybe my lack of wrinkles is throwing you,” I tease, and he smiles, but it’s not one of his famous smiles. Everyone waits for me to keep explaining. “At school, I was ahead of everyone. When I wasn’t at school, all I did was study or train for something my father insisted I needed. I had no downtime, and I was constantly watched. It was lucky I loved studying so much, because it’s almost all I did. I was on track for graduating Yale early before everything changed. I know I wasn’t the youngest person living hard, obviously, but I went from being pampered to having nothing in the space of a few days. My life was flipped upside down and I would do it again if I had to. I haven’t stopped running since then.”

“And they haven’t come close to finding you?”

I wince. Before I answer, I take a couple of steadying breaths, my voice quieter, thicker with emotion. “My brother found me almost immediately.”

“I remember you saying that. What did he do?” Valentine asks. And it’s in complete contrast to my bubbling emotions. I don’t take offense at his lack of emotion—it’s confirmation of how angry he is, but his mood is not directed at me, and I know that.

“He beat me senseless,” I say, closing my eyes and breathing through the onslaught of very dark, pitch-black memories as they surge back to life.

“Why didn’t he take you back?” Matteo asks gently, keeping me in the present with them.

I huff a sad laugh, turning to look at him, to drown in his beautiful compassion as a way of escaping while I tell them. “He was having a moment. Which was the only way I escaped.”

“What kind of moment, il mio tutto ?” Dante asks, but he gets up and comes over, somehow knowing already how fucked up this part is, even before I answer him.

Instinctively, I cover my face with my hands to hide my shame. “Promise me it doesn’t change anything.”

Dante doesn’t let me hide; he peels my hands off my face before he cups his hands around it instead. God, the pain I see in his eyes is like the pain I see in the mirror, but I latch on to it, clinging to him. He dips down lower, his ear resting against my lips, giving me the chance to tell him something I have never told anyone.

I need a moment. And I take as many as I need. He waits patiently, his sour cherries scent so tart in his own pain, there is no way I can stop the tear rolling down as I confess.

“He hurt me badly, Dante.” I whisper so softly, I barely hear the words pass my lips.

But he doesn’t miss any of it. “How, baby?”

I lean my forehead against his temple, my lips against his ear. “My virginity was a stipulation for the sale, so he couldn’t do anything to make me bleed from there.”

“But he still took your innocence by force, didn’t he? Leaving you untouched and pure.”

It feels like my muscles will snap if I move an inch; they’re locked up so tight, pain radiates down my arms and legs. Dante breathes slowly into my ear, and I can feel his heart beating in time with mine while he waits. Eventually, I manage a small nod, but it’s like taking the plug out of the bath. In the haven of protection he provides, my hushed confession pours out.

“He raped me anally. There was so much fucking blood.” I squeeze my eyes shut, slamming the door on those brutal memories, purposely changing directions in what I share because I fucking have to. The pain still guts and terrifies me. “My brother was freaking out afterward, acting like he couldn’t believe he had done it, so I climbed off the floor and smashed a vase over his head.” I pull myself out of Dante’s orbit, sitting up straighter, more determined to say out loud what happened. “I stole the keys to his Stingray and took all the cash and cards from his wallet. I ended up hours away, no clue where I was, but after I emptied his bank account, there was a Greyhound bus terminal across the road. I got a ticket, then I already told you what I did next.”

Dante doesn’t leave. He squats in front of me, still filling my space with his huge presence but giving me room too. “It’s lucky you can’t remember the stranger's name, Layne, or I would track him down and peel the skin from his body for taking your virginity like that.”

Matteo closes in, and he covers the back of my neck with his hand. His touch seeps through my bones, and his presence wraps around me like a blanket. I push the palms of my hands into my eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. I’m rocked again by how much Matteo feels like home.

Once I’m back in control of my emotions, I answer Dante. “I asked him to do it. Begged him to.”

“It does not matter in the least to me if he agreed or not. He never should have taken something so special like that.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but he jumped at the chance, instead of jumping into action to help you.”

“He did help me, Dante. It might have not been a great way to do it, but not being a virgin was more important.”

“It just fucking infuriates me that you had to go through that alone!” The words are unnecessary, because I can read it in his eyes and pick up his distress in his scent.

I lean down, showing him I’m okay. And, honestly, I am. “I’m not who I was back then anymore. I probably need to talk with someone in a professional capacity, but in the same vein, I’ve dealt with a lot and found out I am a very different person from the one who had to run away. I know now what I can handle and what I will not. I know what I like, and I swear if you treat me differently because I told you, I will leave you.”

Dante’s eyes squint in challenge as we careen from the past back to now. Back to who we are. “Why would I treat you any differently? You are the exact same woman I married.”

“I don’t want you thinking I’m fragile.” I glare back at him.

But there is more lightness in how we act, despite the harsh reality of him and the others knowing my truth. There’s no way the others missed what I said.

Valentine proves the point by shuffling on his feet, drawing my focus from his brother to him. And he wears the same intense look in his eyes; it’s just hidden by his dazzling sense of ego. He reaches for my hand, and without even thinking, I place my hand in his. “No one here thinks you are fragile; no one has thought that since the moment we met. I am attracted to the power that radiates in your eyes—it’s fucking addictive. Your ghosts have no reach in our life, Layne, but the reason they exist will be dealt with, make no mistake about that.” He moves his brother out of the way, swooping down low to kiss only the edge of my mouth. “Thank you for trusting us.”

And he puts an end to my fretting. He deals with my swirling worries by addressing them head-on but also leaving what I said alone. We don’t rehash or argue over any of it. They treat me like I asked—no different—but they also keep treating me like I’m theirs, and this thing of ours is only just beginning.

We eat dinner together around the island, talking about nothing at all, but each laugh, each look, each touch we share feels like we’ve turned a corner. Once we clean up, Matteo leads me outside and points out landmarks on the horizon before we all find a place on the outdoor sofa. Of course, it’s huge but so damn comfortable, I start planning to sleep out here one night.

Dante pulls me over onto his lap, blitzing my mind with his wicked, smoky kisses, all the while sharing a lungful of his joint until I’m curled up like a kitten between him and Valentine on the sofa.

Despite how hard I fight to keep my eyes open, their hushed conversations and deep chuckles are like being rocked to sleep.