Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
AVA
I don't know how long I sat there after they left.
Minutes. Hours. Time had lost all meaning, stretching and compressing in ways that made my head spin. I huddled against the headboard, knees drawn to my chest, arms wrapped around myself, trying to hold the pieces together.
The bite marks on my neck throbbed with every heartbeat.
I could feel each one individually—Mason's on the left side of my throat, Caleb's on my shoulder, Leo's just below my ear, Ethan's at the junction of my neck and collarbone.
Those were just the most recent ones. Beneath them, layered, were older wounds, some barely scabbed over, others still raw and bleeding.
They'd marked me so many times. Every time one of them had knotted inside me, they'd bitten down, reopening the wounds, forcing my body to remember.
And I'd asked for it. The memory hit me like a physical blow, my own voice, desperate and needy, begging Mason to bite me again. Tilting my head back, offering my throat, saying "please, Alpha, again." A sob tore from my chest, ugly and raw.
What had I become? What had they turned me into?
I pressed my hands to my face, trying to block out the memories, but they kept coming.
Wave after wave of heat-soaked images, sounds, sensations.
The way I'd moaned when Caleb pushed inside me.
The way I'd laughed at Leo's ridiculous jokes even while he fucked me.
The way I'd told Ethan I loved him, looking right into his green eyes, meaning every word.
The way I'd said it to all of them, over and over, like a prayer I couldn't stop repeating.
The purring. God, the purring. I'd purred for them like a contented house cat. Like a pet. Like an Omega who had accepted her place beneath her Alphas.
"I'm not," I whispered to the empty room, my voice cracking, my fingers digging into my own arms hard enough to leave marks.
"I'm not theirs. I'm not." Even as I said it, I could feel the bonds humming in my chest. Four distinct threads, connecting me to four distinct men.
I could sense them—Mason's calm authority, Caleb's quiet concern, Leo's restless energy, Ethan's watchful attention.
They were just outside the door, waiting.
Waiting for me to break down completely so they could swoop in and comfort me. Waiting for me to accept what they'd done. Waiting for me to become the obedient little Omega they'd always wanted. Something hot and sharp surged through me. Not despair this time. Rage.
They thought they'd won. They thought the heat had broken me, that I'd wake up soft and pliant and grateful.
That I'd crawl to them on my knees and thank them for claiming me.
I pushed off the headboard, my body protesting the movement.
Every muscle ached, every joint screamed, and the space between my legs was tender and swollen from days of use.
I forced myself to stand anyway, forced myself to move despite the pain.
I needed a shower. I needed to wash their scent off my skin, scrub away the evidence of what they'd done to me. What I'd let them do.
What I'd begged them to do.
I stumbled to the bathroom on shaky legs, catching myself on the doorframe when my knees threatened to buckle.
The mirror above the sink showed me a stranger—pale face, hollow eyes, red hair tangled and matted, neck and shoulders covered in bite marks that were already starting to bruise purple and yellow.
I looked like a victim. Like prey that had been caught and devoured. I looked like an Omega who belonged to her pack.
"No," I snarled at my reflection, my hands gripping the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white, my green eyes blazing with fury in the mirror. "No. I don't belong to anyone."
The shower was scalding. I turned the water as hot as it would go and stood beneath the spray until my skin turned red, until the heat of it drowned out the lingering warmth of their touches.
I scrubbed myself raw, using soap and nails and desperation to strip away every trace of them.
I couldn't scrub away the bite marks. Couldn't scrub away the bonds thrumming in my chest. Couldn't scrub away the memories of my own voice saying things I'd never meant to say.
By the time I stepped out of the shower, I was trembling.
Not from cold—the bathroom was thick with steam, but from something deeper.
Something that felt like the foundations of myself cracking apart.
I dressed mechanically, pulling on clothes from the dresser without looking at what I chose.
Soft pants, an oversized sweater. Clothes that covered the marks on my body, that hid the evidence of my shame.
When I opened the bedroom door, they were waiting.
All four of them, standing in the hallway like sentinels.
Mason with his honey-brown eyes full of careful concern, his broad shoulders tense beneath his henley.
Caleb with his scarred face soft and hopeful, his massive frame taking up half the hallway.
Ethan with his clinical gaze cataloguing my every movement, his glasses catching the light.
Leo, leaning against the wall with that infuriating smirk, his gray eyes dancing with something that looked like triumph, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Feeling better, Red?" Leo asked, his voice light and teasing, his posture deliberately casual, one ankle crossed over the other as he pushed off the wall. "You look almost human again."
Something snapped inside me.
I don't remember moving. One second I was standing in the doorway, the next I was on him, my fists flying, my nails raking across any skin I could reach.
He stumbled backward, more from surprise than force, his back hitting the opposite wall, and I followed, slamming my palm into his face, feeling something crunch beneath the blow.
"Ava—" someone shouted behind me, hands reaching for me, but I twisted away, my elbow connecting with someone's ribs, hearing a grunt of pain.
"Don't touch me!" I screamed, the words tearing from my throat, raw and ragged, my vision blurring with tears. "Don't fucking touch me!"
Leo had recovered from his surprise, blood streaming from his nose, dripping down his lips and chin, but he wasn't fighting back. He just stood there, letting me hit him, his gray eyes locked on mine with an expression I couldn't read, his arms hanging loose at his sides.
"I hate you," I sobbed, my fists connecting with his chest, his shoulders, anywhere I could reach, each blow weaker than the last. "I hate all of you. You ruined me. You broke me. I didn't mean any of it—the heat made me say those things, made me do those things—"
"Ava." Leo's voice was quiet, steady, completely at odds with the blood dripping down his face and the scratches I'd left livid on his neck. He caught my wrists, his fingers wrapping around them gently but firmly, stopping my assault. "Ava, stop."
"Let go of me!" I thrashed against his grip, but I was exhausted, wrung out, my strength fading as quickly as it had surged. "Let go, I hate you, I didn't mean any of it—"
"You meant every word," Leo said softly, his gray eyes boring into mine, blood staining his lips, his voice gentle despite the damage I'd done to his face. "That's what scares you."
I froze. The truth of it hit me like a punch to the gut.
He was right. God help me, he was right.
I wasn't angry because the heat had made me say things I didn't feel.
I was angry because it had made me say things I did feel—things I'd been hiding from, running from, denying with every fiber of my being.
I loved them.
Somewhere, somehow, despite everything they'd done, I had fallen in love with them. And I hated myself for it.
"No," I whispered, my voice breaking, my legs giving out beneath me, my whole body sagging in his grip.
"No, that's not—I don't—" Leo caught me as I crumpled, lowering us both to the floor, his arms wrapping around me despite the blood I'd drawn, despite the violence I'd just unleashed.
I sobbed against his chest, ugly, wrenching sounds that hurt my throat, my hands fisting in his shirt, the fabric bunching between my fingers.
"I know," Leo murmured into my hair, his voice soft, his hand stroking down my back in long, soothing motions. "I know, Red. It's terrifying. Loving people who hurt you. Wanting to stay with people who took everything from you. It doesn't make sense. It's not supposed to make sense."
"I don't love you," I choked out, but the words were weak, unconvincing even to my own ears, muffled against his bloodstained shirt. "I can't. I won't."
"You already do." Leo pulled back slightly, tilting my chin up with gentle fingers so I had to meet his eyes.
Blood was smeared across his face, his nose swelling, scratches livid on his neck where my nails had torn the skin.
And still he looked at me like I was precious.
Like I was everything. "You loved us before we took you, Ava.
You loved us when you were a kid following us around that house.
You loved us when you ran away, that's why you ran.
Because you knew if you stayed, you'd never be able to leave. "
"That's not true," I whispered, but even as I said it, I knew it for what it was, a lie. I could feel the falseness of it on my tongue.
I remembered being fifteen, newly presented, looking at these four men and feeling something terrifying stir in my chest. I remembered lying awake at night, thinking about them, wanting things I didn't understand.
I remembered the day I'd decided to run at eighteen, the day I'd realized that if I didn't leave immediately, I never would.
I'd run because I loved them. And I've been running ever since.
"It's okay to be scared," Leo said quietly, his thumb brushing away tears I hadn't realized I was still crying, his touch impossibly gentle for hands that had pinned me down and made me beg.
"It's okay to be angry. Hit me again if you need to—I can take it.
But don't lie to yourself about what you feel.
That's the one thing I won't let you do. "
"Leo." Mason's voice came from somewhere behind me, low and warning, tight with barely leashed tension. "She's had enough."
"She's had exactly enough," Leo replied without looking away from me, his gray eyes never leaving mine, his bloody face set with quiet certainty. "She needed to hear it. She's been running from this for eight years, Mason. At some point, she has to stop."
"Not like this," Caleb rumbled, his deep voice tight with distress, and I could hear him shifting his weight, feel his massive presence looming nearby. "She's bleeding. You're bleeding. This isn't—"
"This is exactly how it was always going to happen," Leo said, and there was something ancient in his gray eyes, something that had seen too much and survived anyway.
His arms tightened around me, holding me close.
"Ava doesn't do anything halfway. She was never going to accept us quietly.
She was always going to fight until she couldn't fight anymore.
And now—" He looked at me, something soft and sad in his expression, blood drying on his chin.
"Now she knows the truth. The fight was never with us. It was with herself."
I stared at him, this man I'd just attacked, this man who was bleeding because of me, and I felt something crack open in my chest. He was right. He was so fucking right it made me want to scream.
I'd been fighting myself for years. Fighting the parts of me that wanted what they offered—safety, belonging, pack.
Fighting the Omega inside me that craved their dominance, their possession, their love.
I'd run, hidden, and built walls so high I'd forgotten there was anything on the other side.
Walls that were now nothing more than rubble to be stepped over.The heat had torn them down, and there was nothing left to hide behind.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted, my voice small and broken, barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to love people who hurt me. I don't know how to forgive what you did. I don't know how to be what you want me to be."
"We don't want you to be anything," Mason said, crouching beside us, his honey-brown eyes soft with something that looked terrifyingly like understanding, his hand hovering near my shoulder like he wanted to touch but didn't dare. "We just want you to be honest. With us. With yourself."
"And if the honest answer is that I hate you?" I asked, searching his face for the lie, the manipulation, finding only sincerity in those warm brown depths. "If the honest answer is that I'll never forgive you?"
"Then we'll live with that," Mason said simply, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering, his jaw tight with emotion he was barely containing.
"We'll spend the rest of our lives trying to earn your forgiveness, even if we never get it.
But at least it will be real. At least you won't be lying to yourself anymore. "
I looked at him, at all of them. Mason with his patient certainty, crouched beside us with his hands on his thighs.
Caleb with his gentle hope, his scarred face creased with worry, and massive hands clenched at his sides.
Ethan with his clinical concern, standing slightly apart, his green eyes cataloguing every detail behind his glasses.
Leo with his bloodied face and knowing eyes, still holding me in his arms like I hadn't just tried to tear him apart.
They were monsters. They'd taken me, claimed me, refused to let me go.
And I loved them anyway. The admission didn't feel like surrender. It felt like exhaustion. Like finally putting down a weight I'd been carrying for so long I'd forgotten what it felt like to stand without it.
"I need time," I said finally, my voice hoarse from crying, from screaming, from saying things I'd never meant to say out loud. "I need... I can't just pretend everything is fine. I can't go back to how things were before the heat."
"We're not asking you to," Mason said carefully, his hand finally coming up to cup my face, his touch gentle despite everything, his calloused palm warm against my tear-stained cheek. "Take all the time you need. We're not going anywhere."
"Neither am I," I whispered, and the words felt like a confession, like a prayer, like the most terrifying thing I'd ever said.
Because it was true. For better or worse, I wasn't going anywhere.
I was theirs…but it didn’t mean I couldn’t give them hell for how things played out.