37. Bones
Chapter thirty-seven
The others chatter around me, trying to figure out ways around the encryption set up in Delilah’s chip. My stomach roils, and I rub the scar on my forearm, trying not to fall back into my memories. But something in my gut isn’t sitting right, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts.
“All I’m saying is that you couldn’t possibly put an explosive powerful enough to do lasting damage into something that small,” Joker is saying when I tune back into the conversation.
“And I said no. It’s pressed right against the brain stem. A BB gun pellet fired at that spot could kill someone,” Cross answers back, a slight growl to the edge of his voice.
“So what? We’re just gonna leave that thing in Lilah’s neck? What if the fucker shows up again?” Joker asks, nearly shouting in his indignation.
“Until we get the tracker’s data, yes,” Phantom says before Cross can answer.
I turn on my heel, unable to stay still any longer and head back toward the house. My instincts are going haywire, and they don’t care how many cameras and security measures we’ve got set up around this base. I need to secure the perimeter myself.
I walk around the outside of the house, checking for anything that the intruder might have left behind.
A trace of a scent, a scrap of his clothes, anything that could help us find who this fucker is and teach him the lesson he deserves.
But of course, it’s been hours since he was here, and whatever traces he might have left are long gone.
But I check the digital tripwire system, finding it functional but offline.
I curse under my breath, following the line around toward the house, checking all the connections.
Nothing looks disturbed or tampered with, which means we just forgot to turn it on when we returned from the mission.
Sloppy. I was sloppy and it could have gotten us killed.
I enter the house through the front door, taking a few steps toward the stairs to the loft, ready to check the system for anything else that’s been turned off, but stop dead when a soft whimper reaches my ears.
I straighten and whip my head around toward the bedroom hallway, sniffing the air.
Everything is so clean that hardly any scents linger in the air, which would normally bother me.
But right now, it lets Delilah’s scent drift untainted down the hallway.
Ash, burning flowers, soured, rotted fruits. Something’s wrong.
I stomp down the hallway toward the last door, the scent only getting stronger as I go. My instincts are on high alert, and my hand drifts to one of the hidden knives I keep on me at all times, ready to defend from whatever might be causing her harm.
I raise my fist to knock, but stop as Delilah screams. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, my eyes going wide.
Before I can stop myself, I shoulder through the door, breaking the flimsy handle lock without a second thought.
I flick on the lights, eyes searching even as Delilah continues screaming.
But there’s no one else in the room. And then my eyes fall on Delilah’s nest.
It breaks my heart every time I come in here to work out and see what she’s been reduced to living in, guilt eating me like acid from the inside. Small and sparse, taking up the least amount of space possible, everything borrowed and stolen to provide the barest amount of comfort.
I’ve been such a dick, and too proud to admit I was wrong.
I thought she’d get better just by being out of the facility, like other omegas we’ve rescued before.
But if anything, she’s gotten worse. A ghost on the edges of our lives, working in silence, living like an afterthought. And I have no one to blame but myself.
Delilah screams again, pulling me from my guilt, and I charge forward, acting before I can think better of it. Not bothering to remove the blanket from over her head, I scoop Delilah up into my arms and hold her to my chest, purring hard enough to make my teeth chatter.
My stomach twists as I realize how small, how light she is.
A wisp, like Joker calls her. I leave the room behind and take her into my bedroom, the only place that feels safe enough right now.
Sitting on the bed against the headboard, I hold Delilah close, almost completely encircling her with my arms, hiding her shaking form from the world.
She’s stopped screaming, but I can’t tell if that’s because she’s awake or if the dream she’s stuck inside of has shifted.
“Wake up, omega. Come back to me,” I murmur into her ear, a hint of my alpha instincts slipping into my words.
Delilah jolts and inhales deeply before going still. There’s a slight tremble to her shoulders, but she doesn’t speak. I can feel her breathing, but she’s still so tense.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you,” I say, trying for comforting, but my voice is too…strong for it, even to my own ears.
Delilah is still for another moment, but then there’s a shift, ever so slight but enough for me to feel it when she uncurls and rests her head on my chest. Her body nearly vibrates from the tension, but something about the small gesture makes me exhale in relief.
We’re quiet for a long time, or at least it feels that way. The house is silent, everyone else still out in the barn, I suspect. Delilah sniffs a little, so low that I’m sure she is trying to hide it. I take a deep breath, and the salt of her tears reaches my nose, making my heart twist.
“Don’t cry. It’s…you’re okay,” I say, forcing myself not to growl.
“I’m sorry. You—I can go. I don’t—” Delilah cuts herself off with a little choked sob and I hold her tighter, one hand going to the back of her head to hold her against my chest.
“None of that, you hear me? I’m here, and you’re safe,” I reply, my tone leaving no room for argument.
Delilah nods, shivering slightly. I sigh again, annoyed at myself. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m just scaring her more than I’m comforting. Just like I have every time I’ve tried since she came. But hearing her cry makes my teeth grind, my protective instincts running rampant.
“You were having a nightmare,” I state, trying to keep her talking before she can shut down again.
Delilah nods slightly, sniffling again. “A memory, maybe. But I…I can’t talk about it,” Delilah says, starting strong before trailing off to a whisper.
“Can’t? What’s stopping you?” I ask, curiously.
Delilah opens her mouth to respond, but the only thing that comes out is a sharp inhale and a wince, like she’s in pain.
I pull her away from my chest, cradling one side of her face in my massive hand so she can’t look away as I scan her features.
She’s pale, more so than usual, the tear tracks on her cheeks stark.
And there’s something in the depths of her stormy gray eyes.
Fear. True, soul-deep terror. Something or someone has her so scared to talk that it’s manifesting in physical pain.
“I know I haven’t been…the most welcoming to you. But I swear you are safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you while you’re under my roof. Do you understand?” I say, picking every word with care and speaking them clearly so I can’t be misunderstood.
Delilah nods, her lower lip trembling slightly. I sigh through my nose, heart twisting as I frown. But the shift in Delilah’s face has me dropping the expression, and I curse myself under my breath.
“I’m…I’m not good at this sort of thing. I don’t…I’m not the soft one. If it’ll make you feel better, I can go get Joker or Phantom,” I say, looking away.
“No!”
Delilah’s little yelp snaps my eyes back to hers, and I find her as surprised by the outburst as I am.
There’s a long pause, and I swallow. It hits me again how small and fragile she is, especially compared to me.
How could someone like her be real, let alone be in my arms?
I don’t dare hold her too tight or I know I’m liable to shatter her bird-like bones.
A beast with a hummingbird balanced delicately in its palm.
Which is why I’m not surprised that at the sound of the backdoor opening, Delilah is up and out of bed, fluttering away from me nearly as fast as she can without running. I rip off my mask as the door closes behind her, running hands through my hair with a soft growl.