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“Tell me why my job is making you ramble.”
I swallow, and he doesn’t let go, his touch both grounding and reassuring. “You are caring for my sister’s new treatments. Doro?—”
“Thea.” He nods in acknowledgment, finally releasing my chin and humming softly under his breath. “She tried to stab you with a needle on Friday,” he says, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration.
“It isn’t the first time.” I sigh, turning away from the street view, which is anything but appealing, and I spin my swing to face the pond. “When we were little, Thea used to dare Lex and me to do ridiculous things. Lex nearly got himself killed before he stopped listening to her. It took me a little longer to wise up.”
He turns to me, his gaze unwavering, and for a moment, it feels like there’s only the two of us in the world.
“One snow day, we had so much snow,” I begin, my fingers tightly wound around the swing’s chain as if I can physically contain the memories that have been festering within me for years. “The snow came up to my knees. Lex and I were so excited to go outside and play.” The words flow from me, and with each one, I feel a small weight lifting from my shoulders, a long buried pain finally finding its way to the surface. “Our parents insisted we bring Thea. With no choice, we went outside to our usual spot in the woods, where our dad had built us a tree house. We didn’t have hills to sled down, so we made our own path through the woods by shoveling snow into a pile.”
Max listens attentively, his eyes filled with curiosity and empathy. “What did she do?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern. “Will you tell me?”
I find it difficult to look at him as the memories resurface, but I press on. “Thea pushed me out of the tree house,” I admit, my voice steady despite the painful recollection. “Lex ran to get our parents while I lay there in the snow. It was only a story high, but it was enough to knock the wind out of me. I thought I was dying, but that isn’t the worst of it.”
Max turns to me fully, his gaze focused on my face as I continue to wind the chain of the swing.
“She slowly descended the steps to hover over me. There was this look on her face, the same one that alarmed me the other day. It was as though there was nothing in her mind,” I recount, closing my eyes briefly to hold back the tears. “She stood over me and said, ‘You lived,’ as though it surprised her, then she took the shovel and buried me.”
I shudder at the memory, feeling the icy touch of snow against my skin, the suffocating weight of it pressing down on me. To this day, I can’t stand small spaces. It’s always made mefeel like a broken omega. By nature, we are supposed to like the weight of small spaces, but they still make me panic.
“I don’t think you or anyone else can cure her,” I confess, opening my eyes and lifting my feet, allowing the swing to spin freely. The chain snaps in the other direction, spinning me quickly. I want to release the memories, to let them go and toss them back to the universe. I don’t want them anymore.
As the swing gradually stops, I look at Max’s face. There’s something about the way he listens, the way he absorbs my words, that makes me feel strangely safe and connected in this moment of vulnerability. It’s as if he’s become the anchor in my turbulent sea of emotions, and I find solace in his presence.
“I’m so sorry, Seraphina. You didn’t deserve that,” Max says, his voice a mixture of regret and empathy. His eyes, filled with unspoken emotions, lock onto mine. Words fail to capture the depth of his understanding.
But then, as his gaze shifts over my shoulder, his brows knit together in concern. Simultaneously, we hear a scream, a piercing sound that slices through the air like a jagged blade. It sends shivers down my spine, and my heart quickens its pace in response.
Instinctively, both of us rise from the swings, our eyes fixed on the serene pond and the surrounding trees in the park. Fear creeps in like a persistent shadow.
“Stay here,” Max orders, his voice firm, as he abruptly takes off toward the scream. The warmth that once lingered from our conversation on the swings dissipates, leaving behind an unsettling cold that seems to penetrate deep into my bones. I watch him hurry toward the running path. The park isn’t vast, just a modest mile around, adorned with trees and a well-trodden running path. I can’t help but track his movements, observing his figure as he vanishes around the bend, disappearing into the tree-lined path.
I wait, each passing minute amplifying the gnawing worry for Max that churns within me. The urge to stay put becomes unbearable. What if he’s in danger? This thought ultimately propels me forward, urging me to defy his instructions. My pace quickens as I approach the tree line where he vanished from view.
As I step into the woods, the faint sound of Max’s voice reaches my ears. Drawing closer, I finally see him kneeling beside a woman on the ground. He’s speaking urgently into his phone with one hand while his other tries to keep her calm with a soothing alpha voice.
With each step I take, the gravity of the situation becomes increasingly apparent. Max is trying to save her, but my mind struggles to fully process what’s happening. I collapse to my knees beside him, and my eyes fixate on her torn clothing and the bruises covering her partially naked torso.
The sight is too much for me to bear, and I can no longer suppress the overwhelming surge of nausea that rises within me.
I puke into the bushes right there.
CHAPTER 11
Avery
“Thick thighs save lives, brother,”I exclaim, clapping Ashton on the back as we ascend the steps leading to the sanctuary. It’s late afternoon, and the weather shows no mercy. Despite the sun hanging overhead, it grows colder by the minute. Ashton, the picture of seriousness, barely acknowledges my playful banter. We’re here to follow a line of deltas, each of us eager to receive our assignment—bodyguard duty for the omegas.
“I’m just saying if I can breathe, she isn’t relaxed,” I quip, attempting to infuse a little levity into the tense atmosphere. Besides, that’s what I’m good at.
“I swear to the Fates, shut the fuck up,” Ashton snaps without bothering to look back at me, the broody asshole that he is.
“I kind of want to know where this is going,” one of my fellow deltas, Zero, chimes in, curiosity sparking in his eyes.
“Well,” I drawl, pausing on the steps as we await entry, turning to face Zero with a grin. “Any position, really. I want her to sit on my face, her thick thighs caging me in with a sweet, juicy, plump?—”
Ashton swiftly wraps his hand around my head, his palm muffling my words. “Not another word,” he warns, his voice firm.
