I slowed, listening.
And eventually… I lingered, ear pressed to the basement door.
Marco no longer sounded controlled, untouchable, or prideful. His voice broke, stripped of everything that had once made him feel larger than me. The man who had hurt me so easily, so completely, didn’t sound like himself anymore.
He sounded weak.
And it didsomethingto me.
In some twisted way, a quiet, creeping sense of balance was being restored. He had taken so much from me, carved pieces out, leaving me jagged and raw. And now he was the one being carved into, piece by piece, his control stripped away the same way mine had been.
As far as Silas and Knox went, both men seemed lighter since Marco took up residence in their workshop. Not just in the way they moved, but in their emotions too, like something that had been coiled tight inside them had finally found somewhere else to go. As if knowing he was downstairs, bound and bleeding and paying for everything he'd taken from them, had loosened something inside them.
Maybe, like Knox said, if I finally worked up the courage to join them, it would loosen something for me too.
"Remember what I taught you," Silas continued, his voice steady and grounding. "We’ll work together."
"Just no screwdrivers, okay? Command wants more intel before…" Knox’s voice trailed off into a low chuckle.
I gave him a flat look. "You guys are never going to let me live down the screwdriver thing, are you?"
"Nope," Silas said, a slow smirk pulling at his mouth.
Despite myself, a quiet breath of laughter slipped free. The tension in my chest eased just enough to make my anxiety manageable.
Silas and Knox had gotten good at that, pulling me out of my head with easy teasing and giving me something lighter to hold on to when everything else felt too heavy. It almost seemed like the two of them were competing to see who could draw more reactions from me. More laughter. More smiles.
Their presence comforted me in a way nothing else could. Their alpha scents steadied me. Knowing they would be at my side when I walked into that basement, when I faced the monster waiting below, was the only thing that kept me calm.
It also helped that Dr. Hampton had spent weeks preparing me for this.
At first, our therapy sessions had been daily, long, and exhausting. She guided me through the fractures in my thinking, the places where fear still controlled my reactions, where instinct told me to shut down, to disappear, and to survive instead of act. We started with grounding techniques, learning how to pull myself back into the present when memories tried to drag me under. Breathing patterns. Sensory anchors. Small, controlled exposures that forced me to stay put instead of retreating.
Our sessions slowly shifted from survival to control. From reacting… to choosing.
Now we met once a week instead of every day. And for the first time, I wasn’t just getting through each session. I was actually enjoying them.
I felt stronger.
Certainly, not unbreakable or fearless.
But less hollow... more likemyself.
I glanced between Silas and Knox, breathing in their alpha scents and pulling at our bond to settle my nerves.
"I’ve got this," I said quietly, taking the first step down the basement steps. And then another.
"Don’t let him see anything but your strength," Silas whispered as I reached the final step. "He doesn't deserve it."
I took a slow breath, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor as I stepped into the room. For a moment, I focused only on the ground beneath my feet and the steady rhythm of my breathing.
Then a weak cough, followed by a wheezing laugh, pulled my attention upward.
I lifted my gaze slowly, taking him in, piece by piece.
Bare feet first, blood gathered thick at the nail beds where the nail had been torn away. My eyes moved up his legs, over bruised and mottled skin, to his toned torso, slick with sweat and streaked with drying blood. And finally, his face.
Still beautiful.
