“So this is how it’s going to go,” she says, her voice laced with a subtle edge I immediately don’t like. “The students will be going back to college this evening, and my husband returns home once they’ve left. He isn’t currently aware of thesituationwe’ve found ourselves in.” Her eyes flick to Wyatt at his low hiss. I feel that same sentiment. “I trust you can all handle yourselves discreetly and stay out of the way when needed.”
“And when would that be?” I set my jaw and tilt my head to meet her pale eyes. Sharon pushes off the desk to round it, settling into her leather chair. She assesses us all with sharp scrutiny.
“You can have the run of the mansion during the week. Our Butler, Evans, will see that you have whatever you need. However, I run events every Friday night with high-profile guests who value their anonymity. Don’t be present during this time, and we won’t have any problems.”
Events. A dull thud of my pulse beats in my ears. She means the auctions that she started with Axel and has not only continued but built upon. The hoards of students, the high-profile guests. This is a fully fledged organization.
“Good to know,” Wyatt replies coolly, his tone nonchalant, but his posture remains rigid. “You don’t have to worry. As soon as Axel is ready, we’ll leave and you will never-” Wyatt takes a step forward, “ever-” he presses his fists against the wood, “see him again.” Sharon’s gaze lingers on him for a moment before a cruel smile spreads across her face.
“Excellent.”
Wyatt shifts back, reaching for my hand on instinct. I don’t even know if he’s aware that he’s clutching onto me and dragging me out of the door, but Sharon sees it. Her eyes spark to life, taking in the hands gently pressing against my back, the way I’m caged in by possessive muscle.
As we slip out of the office and back into the lively halls, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder. The energy in that room felt stifling, dangerous like a powder keg waiting for the right spark.
Sharon isn’t just a monster. She’s a black widow in more ways than one, weaving silky threads of manipulation. Anyone who dares to step too close will become entangled and trapped, and what’s worse is that they’re enjoying it. They’re encouraging her, dulled to the venom sheseeps. It’s no wonder Axel has struggled with nightmares of her for so long or that Huxley was jarred this morning.
Blinking up at Wyatt, I squeeze his hand, grounding us both as his jaw tightens, a storm brewing behind his green eyes. “We’ll keep him safe,” I promise, my voice steadier than I feel. Wyatt doesn’t answer, but his grip softens slightly, a silent promise passing between us. An understanding that neither of us are running from this. We’re going to do whatever it takes to look after Axel and keep us all together.
Chapter Nineteen
“Hey, I might have found something,” I call out to Avery. She pokes her head out of the bookcases, her hair falling to one side. Hope flares in her blue eyes, and she crosses the library to join my side. I lay the book on my crossed legs, using my good hand to hold the pages open for her to see over my shoulder. “Metabolic encephalopathy is the most frequent cause of disordered consciousness. It’s a chemical imbalance in the blood; side effects can include not waking immediately after a surgery or trauma.”
Avery lowers to a crouch beside me, her eyes flying from left to right. I watch her chew on her lip, a frown forming between her brows.
“It also says it’s caused by global brain dysfunction or the organs not working properly. This can’t be it, Dax. We’ve got enough problems without diagnosing Axel with phantom illnesses.” Shaking her head, she stands and retraces her steps to the bookshelves, leaving me sitting in front of a flickering fireplace. Just before disappearing, Avery pauses with a hand on the shelving unit, a long sigh rattling through her chest. “I’m sorry, that was really snippy. I’m just tired and stressed.”
I let out a low chuckle, unfurling my legs on the thick carpet. "You? Snippy? Never," I tease. She peeks at me from under her lashes, her lips twitching upward despite herself. Then the frown returns as she remembers she shouldn’t have anything to smile about, and she slipsinto the aisle. I leave her for a short while, barely reading the rest of the medical journal before snapping it closed.
Ironically, we came to the library as an excuse to get away from the crushing weight of the morning and proceeded to research headaches into ourselves. It’s not a healthy tactic, but it’s how I dealt with my mom’s sickness. I was young, but not as naive as the doctors made out. After every appointment, I’d go home and research the terms they used, doing whatever it took to understand what was happening. As if that would make the outcome any different. It wasn’t long after her passing that I switched to fiction and never looked back, and now I remember why.
Pushing to my feet, I stretch in the fire’s warmth before going in search of Avery. I find her nestled between the stacks, in a small alcove she’s created for herself. Surrounded by the fortress of books she’s been working through, she absentmindedly picks at her lip. Titles on eating disorders, trauma recovery, men’s mental health, and the psychological aftermath of accidents cover a coffee table, a low velvet sofa, and the floor. Unlike me, she’s focused on issues she might actually have a shot at helping with.
I tiptoe through her stacks, finding a small space I can just about squeeze into behind her. My legs are bent by her waist, the small of her back shifting to press against my crotch. I swallow, forcing my attention to remain on my hand rubbing her shoulder. The fingers on my other hand throb like they always do, especially just after Hux changes my bandages, but it’s bearable. There are more pressing issues to distract me with.
“You’re allowed to be stressed, you know. We all are. And researching conditions I know nothing about probably isn’t helping, but it’s filling the time. Stopping me from going stir crazy.”
“I get that,” Avery nods, leaning back to rest her head on my shoulder. She remains there, her face turned up to the ceiling. I stare openly, tracing her features with my eyes. These are the rare moments I wait for, when the need to fight is stripped back, when the fire simmers to a low burn and Avery can justbe. She should get to be like this more often, able to put her faith in us. To let us carry the weight for a while until she finds the strength to pick herself back up.
Before my very eyes, I watch those bricks start to layer back up. Herlips press together in quiet defiance, her eyes burning with determination even though she’s exhausted. Mentally exhausted from caring so much, trying to keep us all together by purely holding on so tight. I fall for her all over again. This breathtaking, unstoppable force of a woman who stormed into our lives, claimed her place, and hasn’t stopped fighting since. Fighting with us, alongside us, and now for us.
“Swan,” I press my lips against her cheek. Avery snaps out of her ravine and slides her fingers into mine. Bringing her knuckles up to meet my lips, I inhale her scent. “I love you so much.” Avery sucks in a breath, parting her lips as if through all of the drama, she’s simply forgotten how I felt.
“Oh, I love you too, Dax.” Avery’s head tilts to watch me kissing her hand, pressing her palm against my cheek. I will spend every day cherishing her, never letting her forget what we have. Anything to keep her looking at me like I’m her entire world. And knowing I get to share this feeling with my best friends, that there will always be someone to comfort her when I’m not quite enough, is a joy I couldn’t comprehend until now. I just have to hold on tight enough to see us through this next storm. Only brighter skies can await on the other side, surely.
Leaning aside, I carefully move the stacks of books, creating a pathway to clear off the velvet sofa. Avery watches me, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion, but she doesn’t protest. Once there’s enough room, I slide onto the couch and gently tug her toward me. She comes willingly, curling into my chest with a sigh. Her hair smells faintly of lavender, and I rest my chin on top of her head, feeling her relax ever so slightly in my arms.
“How are you doing?” I ask softly. Avery snorts, the sound muffled against my chest. She shrugs, but I feel the tension in her shoulders. I’m not letting her off that easily. “No, seriously,” I press, pulling back just enough to tilt her chin up and meet her eyes. My arm remains firmly around her, a cage of comfort she doesn’t want to escape. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to speak to a therapist. Talk to me.”
Her features flicker with resistance, but after a long pause, she finally relents, her voice barely above a whisper.
“There’s nothing to talk about anymore. I used to keep my pain private, much like how I used to hide myself away. I didn’t want theworld to see or know me. I just wanted to disappear.” I run my hand up and down her back in soothing strokes, hoping to keep her grounded.
“What do you think you were hiding from?”
Avery’s attention lingers on my bandage, a frown pulling at her mouth, but her answer is instantaneous.
“Love,” she says to herself. “Heartbreak. I thought if I only relied on two people, the chances of getting hurt were much slimmer. They were meant to protect me from harm, and they both betrayed me in ways I didn’t think were possible. The secrets and the scandals, and for what? Nixon is AWOL, and Cathy is… gone.”
