Chapter 16 #3
Knowing that she’s taking care of our people does something to me that I can’t explain, but my chest feels like it expands to twice its normal size.
We try to do the best we can by them, keep them fed and their parents and older siblings in work, but shit like that just doesn’t even occur to us, given we never had anything like it.
“You really are something special,” I mumble thickly, my throat tight as I pull her against me even more and kiss her head again.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of having her in my arms, my lips against some part of her.
“Let us know if you need any more string, or if you think they need anything else.”
“Yarn.” She laughs and pulls back to look at me, her face fucking glowing.
“It’s called yarn, and with my last order, I’ve got quite a bit to get on with.
” She tilts her head to the side, thinking for a moment.
“Maybe I could set up a little craft club for them? Teach some of them how to knit, or just craft with them. I was pretty good at art at school.”
“There’s the community centre,” Rowan adds, and she turns to look at him, her eyes shining bright as excitement fills her face. “It’s where the gym is, but there’s some spare rooms that mostly sit empty.”
She twists to face me and it’s like the sun bursting through the clouds on a cold winter day. “Do you think Hunter would let me?”
“Let you do what, Peaches?” the man himself asks as he strolls in, a tea towel slung over his shoulder.
She climbs off my lap, going around the sofa to him, and I have to hide the twitch of my lips when she widens her eyes a bit while pressing herself up against him.
Well played, Princess. Well fucking played.
“I want to start up a craft club for the kids on the estate. Rowan says there are some rooms at the community centre I could use.”
The man doesn’t stand a chance, swallowing as she practically bats her lashes at him.
He rubs the back of his neck and I can see he’s already going to agree by the pained look on his face.
“I suppose as long as one of us is with you—” He doesn’t get to finish as she launches herself at him with a delighted squeal, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a quick kiss. Lucky bastard.
“Thank you!” she enthuses, releasing him, and the poor guy looks shell-shocked. “I’ll need to order some craft bits, paper, scissors…oh, and glitter! Everything’s better with glitter, don’t you think?”
“Uh, sure…” he agrees, completely blinded by her, not that I can blame him. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone. “Order what you need, Peaches.”
She takes it, fucking beaming up at him and a flare of jealousy hits me in the chest. I want her to look at me like that, and I bet she did the same when Rowan gave her permission to order all the stuff that was delivered.
“I can take you down to the centre tomorrow to have a look and see which room would work best if you like?” I say, her head snapping up from Hunt’s phone to stare at me, her jaw slack.
“You mean I can leave the flat?” she asks, and my stomach tightens as I struggle to maintain eye contact.
“You’re not a prisoner, it’s just not safe out there for you, Peaches,” Hunt says softly, a frown on his face as his gaze slides away from her. Clearly, he’s feeling a tad guilty too.
“But I can leave tomorrow? With Roman?” she asks while looking back up at him, not addressing her status here, which makes me feel even more shitty. Does she think we’d keep her here against her will unless it was absolutely necessary?
He reaches out and smoothes some hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Of course, as long as you stay on the estate and have one of us with you, you’re free to leave the flat anytime.”
“Thank you, Hunt.” Her tone is soft as she goes on tiptoes and presses a swift kiss to his mouth. “How long until we eat?”
“About half an hour, I made enchiladas,” he tells her, and my dick hardens even more as she licks her plush lips.
“Yum. I love Mexican food, and the culture is amazing too. When Dad and I went there a couple of years ago, the sheer amount of colour and pattern was like a feast for the eyes wherever you looked.”
I’m reminded of how different our pasts are. How she grew up in the lap of luxury, visiting far-off lands and experiencing all the beauty that the world has to offer. We couldn’t be more different, our world countless shades of grey and black, filled with cries that we soon learned went unanswered.
And yet, we all ended up here regardless, in a flat in one of the biggest estates in London. It’s almost like waking up one day to find an exotic bird has flown in your window. It’s so beautiful, so full of life and colour that it makes everything seem brighter somehow.
But you know what they say about trapping something that was never meant to be caged. It’ll either turn on you, tearing your throat out while you sleep, or you’ll slowly kill it until it no longer shines but is a shadow of what it used to be.
We may think that a bird in a cage sings, but what if it’s just crying, its pleas falling on deaf ears?