I lean my elbows on the bucket sides of the chair and study him. “It probably was part of it, but I’m sure that bond means the world to Zack.”
Rickon’s shoulders relax, and a soft smile lightens his grim expression. “When he asked to bond me, he told me he knows we’ll always be pack, and he wanted to feel the same with me as he does with Red. It was so clumsy, but beautiful, you know?” He looks up, lips quivering and moisture glinting in his red-rimmed eyes.
My heart aches. Zack deserved to bond with Rickon because he made those guarantees. He didn’t give him the runaround, didn’t claim he was too busy. He was simply desperate to know how Rickon feels.
“Even if I do get caught up in his emotions some time, I think it’s worth it to know what he’s feeling.” Rickon strokes his thumb over his shirt tenderly as he turns to stare out the window. “When you said I couldn’t handle the bond, I thought you were calling me weak.”
“Fuck no, Ricky!” I cry. “I was just thinking on the drive about how you walked right up to Zack in the truck when he arrived because Red needed you. That’s not weakness. You’re braver than all the alphas twice your size.”
He snorts. “Maybe it’s precisely because I’m my size that I could do it.” His words are a little cryptic, but when I think about all that he’s been through, I realize it’s shaped him into a valiant person without turning him abrasive. I bet Zack, who’s so intuitive, could sense Ricky’s angel heart. Or his sexy body and subtle scent.
“Maybe you just won him over with your beauty.” The words tumble out before I’ve thought it through.
Ricky’s mouth quirks with a faint smile, and the desire to touch his lips swims through my chest. I shove out of my chair and grab the other flowers, setting them where Red might see them when she wakes. Gives my hands something to do so I don’t run away with my thoughts.
“They said she’ll be pretty out of it for a bit,” Ricky says softly as I take his bouquet and set them in the water jug.
“Okay. I’ll duck over to the OCB office then.” And dig into my caseload, which right now feels like a black hole. But as I turn away, Red stirs.
“Hey, Red,” I murmur as she blinks awake.
But she doesn’t answer me. Simply stares at the wall, not moving, not asking about Zack. She doesn’t even respond to Ricky when he leans over her. It’s devastating to witness.
A barb drives deep into my heart. After everything Red’s endured, has the threat to her beloved alpha finally broken her?No. This has to be because of the medication; she’ll come back to us.
I wet my dry lips. “I’ll drop this thing right off and come back, Ricky.” A quick flash of the phone out of Red’s line of sight clarifies what I mean.
He nods, gratitude blazing in his eyes.
I’ll bring my laptop back here so I can be close by. I don’t want to leave them to endure this alone.
Chapter seventeen
Zack
This place eats at me. I’m used to cells, even dark ones, but I’ve never been entirely on my own. No windows, no lights, not even a bed. Only a square box of concrete walls and a roof I knock my head on if I stand upright. As I lie on the cold floor, it seems like everyone has forgotten me.
Even when the guards come by, I don’t see their faces. A slot in the wall opens and a meal tray slides through—not as often as my grumbly belly would like. Sometimes a white roll of the stuff to wipe my ass with slides through the window too.
Before, when I didn’t understand words or use tools, I might’ve been okay, but now I know better. I’m not a dog, not anymore.
Only the faint flicker in my chest keeps me from descending back into that animal state. After that heavy flare of Ohm-ga’s fear, her presence goes still, like when she sleeps. But White Mine keeps me company, his concern welling up in my chest but never exploding out of control. Even if he’s not happy, he’s safe,and that means Red must be as well because no one loves her as much as Ri-ckon.
But the bond can’t keep me warm.
I run my hand over my head. With all my hair gone, nothing traps heat over the skin here. And my clothes can’t seem to chase away the chill everywhere else. The only thing that comes to mind is copying Al’s body-pushing movements.
My life rhythm changes inside the box. Instead of sunlight and darkness, or Ri-ckon herding us along so we aren’t late, I only have my body cycles to tell me when to sleep and the grating meal tray to tell me when to eat. So I fill the space by pressing myself off the floor with my hands until my arms shake and the pounding in my chest gets too loud. Then I rest and repeat. Gradually, the too-thin sensation in my broken arm fades.
After a series of meal trays and follow-up poops in the toilet that crowds my space, the flesh under my skin hardens. Reminds me of days in the original pack . . .fight ring, someone called it. The chute would open frequently on non-fight days, sending us into a cavern with cages around deep water, a running belt, and objects to punch. Things that forced me to move until my breath tore sharply in my throat.
As time blurs, I run on the spot, practice standing and sitting without a chair, and punch the air like Al does. And I recite every word I know out loud. Once I was content drifting through life, not understanding the warbled sounds people made, but not anymore. This world is full of things I need to figure out if I’m going to return to my pack and then stay with them.
Assuming some powerful magic hasn’t consumed me and drowned me in this darkness.
Cal-ee told me I had to wait before he could get me out of prison. If he’s lying to get my ohm-ga, I’ll tear his limbs off.
If I escape.
