Chapter 76
AVA - OUR SANCTUARY
The sun cut across my pillow like it didn’t care the world had almost ended last week.
I blinked, groggy, one arm tossed over the other side of the bed like maybe Remi had just slipped out for coffee. But the apartment was too quiet. No humming, no grumbling, no muttered swearing about a bad dream or a worse memory.
Just silence.
I sat up slowly, stiff. My ribs still ached when I breathed too deeply, my shins, calves and feet tender where bruises bloomed under the skin and cuts were barely healing. But it wasn’t the pain that woke me; it was the guilt.
The memory of blood on my hands, real and warm. The way the man’s eyes looked when he realized I wasn’t bluffing. The way the air went still after the trigger pull. How I didn’t hesitate, how I couldn’t.
I had done what I had to do.
But it didn’t mean I slept well at night.
Everyone else seemed to be moving forward: Remi, Harlan, even Gray. But me? I felt stuck. Like part of me was still in that cabin, crouched in the dark, listening to footsteps and glass breaking and the gunshots... they were still so loud. Like I was still holding my breath, waiting to die.
We’d been back a week. The clinic was almost ready.
Remi was… healing. Physically, anyway. Her bruises were fading, and her limp had nearly vanished.
But something in her eyes still flickered like a warning light.
She smiled more now. Laughed. But sometimes I caught her drifting, her gaze fixed on nothing. A storm behind her eyes.
I dragged myself out of bed and padded barefoot into the kitchen. That’s when I saw the note.
Went in early. New patient request. Wanted to make sure the place was perfect. See you there. — R
Of course, she had.
Remi Carter didn’t do half measures. Not when it came to her work. Especially not when it came to survivors. People who walked through her doors holding broken pieces of themselves, hoping someone could help put them back together.
She’d always shown up.
Even when she had nothing left.
I went through the routine: shower, coffee, and avoiding my own reflection in the mirror. I still couldn’t look myself in the eye without flinching. I could feel the echo of gunshots, hear the quiet crunch of leaves beneath bodies that wouldn’t rise again.
I picked up my phone. Still no word from Jack.
Not a call. Not a text. Not a fucking email or carrier pigeon.
When we returned to the apartment, his belongings were gone. Vanished. Like he’d never existed, he ghosted the whole damn town without so much as a goodbye.
I’d asked Remi last night if she’d heard from him.
Her jaw had clenched like stone. “He fucking left, Ava. Without a word. Without letting us know, he was okay. Without even telling us how he got out of that place. He just ghosted. And for what? I don’t even remember anyone talking to him. I barely looked at him after he almost got us both killed.”
“I know, Rem. But I think… his ego, his pride, whatever was left of the part of him that thought maybe you’d change your mind... got hurt. He had three men growl at him when he tried to get close to you.”
Remi scoffed. “Like I can control what people do when I’m unconscious... Who growled?”
“Four. Gray. And… Reid.”
She blinked. “Officer Reid?”
I laughed, despite myself. “Yeah. He surprised the shit out of everyone. The quiet boy went alpha real quick where you were concerned.”
Remi hadn’t smiled. Just nodded once, eyes drifting to the window.
I snapped out of the memory and thumbed Jack’s contact. After a few seconds, I pressed the call button. It rang four times, then kicked to voicemail.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s me. I know you’re… licking your wounds or whatever. But the least you could do is let us know you’re alive. That you’re okay. Because disappearing without a word? That was a dick move. So... yeah. Call me back, you asshole. Or I swear I’ll hunt you down myself.”
I hung up and grabbed my keys.
The clinic looked like it had been rebuilt from the ground up.
Fresh paint. New lighting. Clean walls. New windows and front door. Some of the pictures had been replaced, but the energy was the same, soft, steady, strong. A place that promised you weren’t alone.
I stepped inside and stood still for a beat. The floor was warm under my boots. The air smelled faintly like lavender and antiseptic.
This place had always been our sanctuary. And today, it felt like it might be again.
Remi stood near the front desk, laughing at something one of the volunteers said. Her hair was braided back, a soft green dress hugging her frame. She looked like herself again.
If you didn’t know any better.
She spotted me and grinned. “You’re late.”
“I let myself sleep for once,” I said. “Sue me.”
“You okay?” she asked.
“Fine. Bruised. Grumpy. You?”
She flashed a peace sign. “Same. Except better dressed.”
I tried to smile, but something inside me still felt tight. Like I couldn’t exhale fully.
A few nights ago, I’d woken up gasping, tangled in the sheets, convinced the cabin was burning again. My lungs had screamed for air. My chest was soaked in sweat.
Harlan was gone that night, off helping a friend with something at his ranch.
But Remi… Remi had come in without a word.
She climbed into bed beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world. No questions. No apologies.
She’d pulled me into her arms and just held me. Her voice low and rough from sleep as she hummed a tune I didn’t recognize. Something soft and raw and old.
Eventually, when I stopped shaking, she whispered, “You can talk to me when you’re ready. Or we can find someone else. But don’t keep it all inside, Ava. It’ll eat you alive.”
I didn’t say anything then.
But I held her hand until the sun came up.
Back in the clinic, Remi moved to the counter and poured me a cup of coffee, already brewed, already perfect. She handed it over like she always did. Like we hadn’t walked through hell together.
“Harlan’s supposed to stop by later,” I said. “After his meeting with IA and the FBI contact at the station.”
Remi nodded, then checked the clock. “I’ve got a new intake in twenty. Wanted to be here early in case they showed up nervous.”
“Who is it?” I asked.
She pulled a file off the counter and tapped the name.
“Melissa,” she said. “Melissa Brant.”