I don’t need a fucking hazard suit to be around my mate.
“You think I don’t feel exactly the same way you do?” Oscar snaps. He shoves his glasses up on his nose before he steps closer. His hand shoves lightly against my chest. “You think I don’t hate every moment that they’re in there and we can’t see it? Of course I do. But you start throwing dominance around, yelling and banging on the glass and you’ll be banned from seeing her too. Maybe we all will.”
I falter at that thought. Oscar scans my face. “Exactly. We have to be careful, Theo. Even if we hate every fucking second of it.”
“She’s back.” At Max’s hollow words, we both spin, almost banging into each other as the four of us scramble for the window.
Oscar’s low words barely reach my ears. “Are you sure you want to stay—,”
“I’m sure,” I say immediately. I don’t move my eyes away from the small figure on the bed.
I wasn’t sure I had any heart left to break, but I feel those jagged pieces shudder, crumble a little more. “They didn’t even brush her hair.”
It sprawls around her head in tangled, wet strands. Kenny’s eyes are still closed as the suits move around her, carrying in the things we brought with us. Fresh bandages cover her arms, her shoulder, disappearing down into the grey neckline of her top.
It all feels… wrong. They stack them up in the corner of the room before filing out, the steel door in the corner sliding closed behind them.
It takes a few minutes. The softness of her sleeping posture stiffens into instant, waking fury as her eyes fly open. Kenny darts off the bed, her steps wary and those little claws on her fingers raised in warning as she shifts, putting her back against the bare wall. Scarlet eyes sweep the room as she sucks in a shuddering breath, landing on the things in the corner.
Almost ten minutes pass before she finally moves. Her bare feet slowly pad over the concrete floor as she edges closer to the pile.
My hands find the glass again, my nose almost pressed to it. “That’s it, baby. Those are your things.”
Fuck, I wish I could talk to her. Max shared the code with us that he stole from Joanne, but we agreed to keep it for an emergency. Less chance of them finding out that way.
Kenny carefully drops to her haunches, her shoulders tight as she looks around. Her hand reaches out for a navy-blue blanket. Hers, from the trailer.
None of us breathe as she drags it to her nose and inhales, her eyes closing and her forehead furrowing into a slight frown.
She drops it beside her, moving on and digging through the pile with clear curiosity.
“She didn’t shred it,” Max breathes. Delight underscores his words.
My heart beats faster. “She can tell the difference?”
“It’s a good sign.” Oscar studies her intently as she yanks out something else. I frown at the rolled neck sweater in her hands. One of those ridiculous ones she wore to hide the bandages from us. I immediately despise the sight of it.
Jake winces. “They were in her cases, so I added them.”
Kenny examines it, turning it over in her hands.
Claws flash, the brown clothing now in three separate pieces that she tosses to the side with a small growl, her gaze intent on the pile in front of her.
Couldn’t agree more, baby.
This feels like more of Kenny than we’ve seen since we lost her. A little glimpse that I can’t stop watching. More clothing gets ripped into rags and ribbons, others added carefully to the small but growing keep pile beside her.
“What’s that?” I squint at what she’s holding. “Is that my shirt?”
Oscar looks unrepentant. “I added things from all of us. She needs our scents. And it’ll help to see how she responds.”
If I’d known, I would have added all of my shirts. Every single one.
Breath catching in my chest, I shift to face her again. Kenny holds up the faded red flannel material, examining it. Turning it around, before she pulls it to her nose and breathes in.
The small, agonized whine that uncurls from deep in her throat has my knees buckling. “Kenny.”
She can’t hear me. My fingers curl against the glass as she shifts back, nearly falling over. Her head twists, looking around the empty room. “Ken. Baby. We’re right here.”
