Chapter Twenty-Eight
Her head hurt. She hadn’t felt such headache since ... since him. What had happened? Where was she?
She tried to pry her eyes open, but it seemed like they were stuck with glue.
The throb on top of her head was strong, almost as if her heart had taken an elevator to her head and camped out on top of her temple.
She licked her lips, dry as the beach sand, and tried to open her eyes.
She moaned in pain when light pierced her sensitive eyes and immediately closed them again.
“You’re awake,” chirped a voice to her left. Turning her head toward the sound, she tried to mentally locate herself. She’d been at home ... talking to ... to whom? Memories were fuzzy.
“I’ll call the doctor,” said the same cheery voice, and Freya felt her leave the room.
Her head ached terribly, but what hurt her most was the feeling that she was doing something wrong. No ... that there was something wrong.
“Hello, pretty lady.” The voice belonged to a man and was calm, serene, almost paternal.
Freya opened her eyes. The room’s light had greatly diminished, so her sensitive eyes didn’t hurt.
The doctor conducted a quick exam, checking her pupils and trying to assess her level of pain.
Then, he started asking some questions, how was she feeling, did she remember what had happened, did she know where she was, and Freya felt her anxiety increase.
And then, it all came back to her. The howls outside her house...
Ciaran and Declan’s eyes, changing... The animals chasing her, the gun in her hands and then ... oblivion...
“Where did you get that gun?”
“Are you one of them?” asked Freya in return. If he was surprised by her question, he didn’t mention it, merely nodded silently. Her eyes filled with tears and she closed them, a sense of hopelessness and despair filling her chest.
“I’ll never be free,” she sobbed. “He promised there were no wolves here, he promised I was safe.”
“You are safe, Miss Jensen. Would you judge an entire race for the acts of three rogue wolves?”
Freya turned her back on him, sniffing delicately.
The doctor persisted, “If a human man kills an entire family in their house, during the night, would you judge the entire race based on that man alone?” Freya didn’t answer and he went on, “Like with everything, we have good and bad. We’re not perfect, of course, but... ”
“Leave me alone.” Her voice was dry, despite the river of tears that soaked the pillow.
She wanted to go home and bury herself under the blankets.
But where was home? Her parents’ house had been destroyed by the fire.
The years she spent with Lewis was anything but a home, and the last house ...
it wasn’t hers. It belonged to Mace Ravenclaw.
Another liar, like Lewis, like everyone that she’d ever met.
And Evelyn? Was she one of them too? The nice old lady, with an easy smile and an allegedly dark past, with her house full of grandkids?
Not to mention the twins. She was falling in love with them, and they ...
they... She closed her eyes fiercely. They knew she was in pain.
They knew her past, the abduction, everything.
And still, they kept coming, circling around her like vultures.
And in the end, they were worse than Lewis.
Because she’d never loved him. But she was falling in love with both of them.
And they were wolves.
The light dimmed until the room was plunged into darkness. Someone brought her dinner, but Freya didn’t touch it. The tray lay where she’d put it, forgotten. Freya stared at the wall, her mind lost in memories.
When morning came, she was in the exact same position.
The nurse sighed when she saw the undisturbed tray and called for the helper to take it away.
A fresh one was brought, but still Freya’s eyes didn’t leave the wall.
Her eyes were vacant, she was expressionless.
The doctor came again, asked some questions that she ignored, saw her vitals, and left again.
At lunch, the same helper that had switched the trays entered and sighed when she noticed the breakfast tray undisturbed yet again. She took it and left a new one. As she was about to close the door, a shadow passed by her and glided gracefully into the room.
****
Evelyn entered and observed the small figure on the bed. Freya seemed to have shrunk. It was as if the spirit had vanished, leaving an empty shell behind.
“Can I come in?” she asked, even though she was already inside.
“Leave me alone.”
Evelyn had wanted to visit her sooner, but she feared it would do more harm than good.
She waited until Freya regained consciousness, and even then she hesitated before deciding to see her.
Yes, she was her grandsons’ fated mate, but she was also a granddaughter her heart had decided to adopt.
And a nanna’s duty was to help her child in any way she could.
Even if she had to be obnoxiously sweet to do so.
Freya was a shadow of the young woman she’d come to know and love, but the stronger Freya, the survivalist, was still inside that shadow. She just had to bring her back.
The answer to her question was faint, but Evelyn heard it and fought back a smile. If she was answering, then she was inside, somewhere. She just needed to bring her out.
“I can’t. You’ve been alone for far too long.”
“Better alone than in bad company.”
“Is that what I am, bad company?”
“You’re one of them. You lied to me.”
“No, dear. Yes, I’m a shifter and I have a wolf inside. But my wolf is as old as I am and wants nothing more than peace. I never lied to you because you never asked me if I was a shifter.”
Freya didn't answer, continuing to stare blankly into space. But Evelyn wasn’t one to be ignored, and she replied, “We all love you, dear. We all want you home.”
“Leave me alone.”
Evelyn stayed a bit longer, but Freya didn’t speak any more. Evelyn was sure she’d mentally checked out again, and after a while she left. Small visits, small doses, until Freya could remember what had attracted her to the old lady next door.
Her body would heal ... her mind was a different matter.
On her way home, Evelyn frowned when she recalled the look on the twins’ faces when they realized Freya had a gun at her house. They didn’t know about it but had taken it as a precaution. They brainstormed back and forth, trying to decide who had given it to her, but reached no conclusion.
Nobody in the pack would sell a gun to Freya; they knew she was under Connor’s protection, even if she didn’t know it herself.
If she’d tried to buy a gun, it would have been denied.
Besides, they were wolves; guns were beneath them.
When fighting was required, they preferred their animal form.
Evelyn was even under the impression that there was no one selling guns in the pack, and the nearest human village was very distant, beyond the mountains.
Which was why it seemed such a good place to hide her.
So, the question remained: where did she get the gun?