Chapter 1
LIV
RUNAWAY TRAIN - SOUL ASYLUM
Present Day
It’s funny—and probably sad as hell—that almost my entire life can fit inside one bag.
It’s all I’ve ever needed. Just one to hold all of my earthly possessions. One sorry excuse for a piece of luggage to tote around everything that I deem important.
Necessities only, never more than I can carry comfortably and without tiring. Nothing extra that will slow me down.
Backpacks are the easiest in terms of making that happen.
Hands free, secure, easy to hide with.
Duffles are my second choice but they’re a little too bulky, depending on what I’m doing. Depending on where I’m going.
I’ve done this four times before, it’s nothing new.
I guess I just thought at some point, I’d have an entire house worth of belongings and wouldn’t need to think like this anymore.
Thirty-two years old, and nothing has changed.
Fifth time’s a charm, I guess.
With a sigh, I grab the stack of tank tops and tuck them inside the water-resistant canvas, pushing them to one end before I move to the next small pile of clothing.
I repeat the action until I’ve cleared my bed.
I move on to my drawing materials and the few books I’ve accumulated over the last two years until they’re packed up tight, too.
This is pathetic.
Planting my fists on my hips, I stare down into my bag, annoyed that this is still something I’m dealing with, especially when I wouldn’t be if things were different.
They were supposed to be different.
I lift my hand and finger the charm on my necklace, sliding it back and forth along the chain before I bring it to my lips.
I had different. I had perfect.
I had the life I always dreamed of, the one I never thought would be more than that, and it ended just as soon as it began.
But that’s exactly why I’m shoving what’s left of my past life into a black canvas bag and hoping I won’t ever have to do this again.
Dropping my hands, I roll my neck, stretching it back and forth before raising my arms above my head until my spine cracks.
I might have fuck all to take with me, but the tension and stress packing causes always makes my body hurt. It’s like planning for a nightmare I don’t know will happen, but I have to prepare for anyway. And that sucks.
Then again, maybe that’s how I survived those first four trips out of hell.
I shake my head at the thought, even more annoyed at my line of thinking, then get my ass into gear.
I grab my burner phone and the backup from the desk, toss those along with the ancient laptop I bought in the bag then go back and look down at the two large envelopes and small box sitting there staring back at me.
The first has my new life sitting in it.
Birth certificate and social security card.
Driver’s license. Registration and car insurance.
Passport. Family and medical histories, school records and a diploma.
There’s a title to my truck, one with my new name as well as job history, personal references, and a list of previous addresses.
I’m pretty sure they included a loose story about Sparrow Manning, too.
One that incorporated things that actually happened to me when I was a kid, like the time I was attacked by a foster family's dog, or fell out of a neighbor kid’s tree house while I was hiding from another.
My fucking allergies are even listed, and every piece of paperwork in this envelope is so fucking good it’s impossible to tell they’re fake.
I knew Aisling said they were going to come up with a brand new identity for me, but I guess I didn’t realize how extensive it was going to be.
Fastening the clasp, I set that down and pick up the next, peeking inside to make sure all of my personal paperwork is in order. My research. Not that it’s gotten me anywhere, not really, but it’s a starting point, and it’s enough for me to set out in search of the truth.
That’s what this is all about. Figuring out what exactly happened two years ago. Finding whoever is responsible for destroying everything I loved.
I seal that back up and set it on top of the other, then pick up the small handmade wooden music box and slowly lift the lid.
Chopin’s Nocturne op. 9 No. 2.
It floods my senses as the song softly fills the room, a smile pulling at my lips as I close my eyes and let it take me back to the day I got it.
It feels like it was so long ago, centuries since that warm summer night. Stolen kisses, secret laughter. The first time any of us were able to properly convey how thankful we were to have each other. It was perfect and beautiful, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way I felt that night.
A tear slips down my cheek and I wipe it away as I open my eyes. I carefully take the velvet lining the lid between my fingers, slowly freeing one side to reveal the photos hidden inside.
Four scared kids who had nothing but each other, four happy adults who still had the same. A year and a half of freedom documented in a glossy finish, complete with joyful smiles and bright, hopeful eyes.
All gone.
Nothing but a memory that I will hold tightly in my chest, keeping it safe right along with them.
I reverently touch their faces before letting my fingers ghost over their silly sketches and meaningful love notes then I seal it up tight and pack that along with the envelopes in my bag.
Once I zip up the duffle, I do a slow spin around my room, making sure I have everything I need until the next time I’m here, my gaze landing on the weighted blanket I received when I graced the doors of Omega’s Haven with my broken and bleeding self.
I’ll bring that, too.
My nest can stay. I don’t like the idea of uprooting it, and I think it would give me too much anxiety to bring those things into a new place that isn’t completely permanent.
Besides, starting from scratch hasn’t bothered me before.
Not in the same way it might anyone else.
I’ve had to do it so many damn times that it seems more normal to have to rebuild my nest than it does to have a fixed one.
The drawings can stay, too. Benji already gave me one for my trip, and he plans on giving me a new one each time I come back and leave again, so all of our joint artwork can remain tacked to the walls of my room for now.
Aside from that, it doesn’t really look like anyone has been living here at all, let alone for two years. That’s just how I am though and I don’t think anything will change it.
I’m a nomad through thick or thin.
All that’s left now is to find Aisling and make sure I can take scent blockers and heat suppressants with me, and have a way to get more if I stay away from the shelter longer than planned.
“We’re going to take a walk,” Aisling says when she sees me enter the outreach portion of Omega’s Haven. “Let’s go to my office and I’ll give you temporary exit paperwork.”
I frown, confused because I wasn’t aware of any type of paperwork.
Signing in and out, sure. Making an effort to be more open and accountable to the people who’ve been helping me by keeping them in the loop?
Yeah, that makes sense. Actual paperwork?
I have no clue. My feet move in her direction anyway.
She’s not given me any reason to distrust her, which means I’m willing to see what she’s about.
Once I’m sitting down, she relaxes into her own chair.
“Sorry, I wanted to give you privacy for this. There's actually not any paperwork to complete,” Aisling explains. “A friend of mine was able to get you two months of scent blockers, alpha pheromone blockers, and heat suppressants. The heat suppressants can be hit or miss because they are street drugs, but he got you the best he could. You’ll have cramping but not have the need for knots. I’m sorry there’s not much better available. ”
A shot of fear slides through my veins, but I tell myself this is way better than feeling the pain and betrayal of slick and desire where I shouldn’t anymore. Not when my pack is gone.
“When should I take them? Is there a schedule so they’re most effective?” I ask.
“The scent blockers are as you need them, which means that I suggest that you take one in the morning, and then keep some with you in case you feel the need to take another,” she says.
Aisling’s eyes are gentle as the unspoken words ring out between us and I nod. “In case I get turned on.”
I really can’t imagine this happening to me, and just the idea feels wrong. In case hell freezes over is more like it, but I need to know these things and she needs to know I understand.
“On the other hand, the alpha blockers I suggest taking if you know you’ll be around them.
It can get overwhelming to be in a room with them, and it feels as if your skin is too tight,” Aisling says, shuddering.
“Finally, you’ll want to take the heat suppressants every day at the same time, and only take one.
Your room will be here whenever you’re ready to return.
We have plenty of space here, and it’s growing as we find the need for it, okay? ”
“Thank you,” I rasp. “This place is a miracle. I’ve seen everything you’ve managed to achieve here, and I’m so grateful for all of it.”
Aisling’s eyes get misty as she smiles at me. “Wren and I created this place so omegas like you and Meghan would have a safe place to land,” she says. “This is your home for as long as you need, okay?”
I give her another nod as I get to my feet and debate hugging her.
That’s not really my style, I’ve never been hugely affectionate with people outside of my pack and even then it took a while for me to get comfortable with it.
Between the way I grew up just outside of Skaneateles and everywhere after, I wasn’t exactly shown any kind of positive attention.
Hugging was like some trick that was played in order to get me close enough to do something horrible instead.
Aisling isn’t like that. I know she isn’t, and neither is anyone else here. I’m safe, and everyone I’ve met only wants the best for me.