I stumbled to the bathroom on shaky legs, catching myself on the doorframe when my knees threatened to buckle. The mirror above the sink showed me a stranger—pale face, hollow eyes, red hair tangled and matted, neck and shoulders covered in bite marks that were already starting to bruise purple and yellow.
I looked like a victim. Like prey that had been caught and devoured. I looked like an Omega who belonged to her pack.
"No," I snarled at my reflection, my hands gripping the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white, my green eyes blazing with fury in the mirror. "No. I don't belong to anyone."
The shower was scalding. I turned the water as hot as it would go and stood beneath the spray until my skin turned red, until the heat of it drowned out the lingering warmth of their touches. I scrubbed myself raw, using soap and nails and desperation to strip away every trace of them. I couldn't scrub away the bite marks. Couldn't scrub away the bonds thrumming in my chest. Couldn't scrub away the memories of my own voice saying things I'd never meant to say.
By the time I stepped out of the shower, I was trembling. Not from cold—the bathroom was thick with steam, but from something deeper. Something that felt like the foundations of myself cracking apart. I dressed mechanically, pulling on clothes from the dresser without looking at what I chose. Soft pants, an oversized sweater. Clothes that covered the marks on my body, that hid the evidence of my shame.
When I opened the bedroom door, they were waiting.
All four of them, standing in the hallway like sentinels. Mason with his honey-brown eyes full of careful concern, his broad shoulders tense beneath his henley. Caleb with hisscarred face soft and hopeful, his massive frame taking up half the hallway. Ethan with his clinical gaze cataloguing my every movement, his glasses catching the light. Leo, leaning against the wall with that infuriating smirk, his gray eyes dancing with something that looked like triumph, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Feeling better, Red?" Leo asked, his voice light and teasing, his posture deliberately casual, one ankle crossed over the other as he pushed off the wall. "You look almost human again."
Something snapped inside me.
I don't remember moving. One second I was standing in the doorway, the next I was on him, my fists flying, my nails raking across any skin I could reach. He stumbled backward, more from surprise than force, his back hitting the opposite wall, and I followed, slamming my palm into his face, feeling something crunch beneath the blow.
"Ava—" someone shouted behind me, hands reaching for me, but I twisted away, my elbow connecting with someone's ribs, hearing a grunt of pain.
"Don't touch me!" I screamed, the words tearing from my throat, raw and ragged, my vision blurring with tears. "Don't fucking touch me!"
Leo had recovered from his surprise, blood streaming from his nose, dripping down his lips and chin, but he wasn't fighting back. He just stood there, letting me hit him, his gray eyes locked on mine with an expression I couldn't read, his arms hanging loose at his sides.
"I hate you," I sobbed, my fists connecting with his chest, his shoulders, anywhere I could reach, each blow weaker than the last. "I hate all of you. You ruined me. You broke me. I didn't mean any of it—the heat made me say those things, made me do those things?—"
"Ava." Leo's voice was quiet, steady, completely at odds with the blood dripping down his face and the scratches I'd left livid on his neck. He caught my wrists, his fingers wrapping around them gently but firmly, stopping my assault. "Ava, stop."
"Let go of me!" I thrashed against his grip, but I was exhausted, wrung out, my strength fading as quickly as it had surged. "Let go, I hate you, I didn't mean any of it?—"
"You meant every word," Leo said softly, his gray eyes boring into mine, blood staining his lips, his voice gentle despite the damage I'd done to his face. "That's what scares you."
I froze. The truth of it hit me like a punch to the gut. He was right. God help me, he was right. I wasn't angry because the heat had made me say things I didn't feel. I was angry because it had made me say things I did feel—things I'd been hiding from, running from, denying with every fiber of my being.
I loved them.
Somewhere, somehow, despite everything they'd done, I had fallen in love with them. And I hated myself for it.
"No," I whispered, my voice breaking, my legs giving out beneath me, my whole body sagging in his grip. "No, that's not—I don't—" Leo caught me as I crumpled, lowering us both to the floor, his arms wrapping around me despite the blood I'd drawn, despite the violence I'd just unleashed. I sobbed against his chest, ugly, wrenching sounds that hurt my throat, my hands fisting in his shirt, the fabric bunching between my fingers.
"I know," Leo murmured into my hair, his voice soft, his hand stroking down my back in long, soothing motions. "I know, Red. It's terrifying. Loving people who hurt you. Wanting to stay with people who took everything from you. It doesn't make sense. It's not supposed to make sense."
"I don't love you," I choked out, but the words were weak, unconvincing even to my own ears, muffled against his bloodstained shirt. "I can't. I won't."
"You already do." Leo pulled back slightly, tilting my chin up with gentle fingers so I had to meet his eyes. Blood was smeared across his face, his nose swelling, scratches livid on his neck where my nails had torn the skin. And still he looked at me like I was precious. Like I was everything. "You loved us before we took you, Ava. You loved us when you were a kid following us around that house. You loved us when you ran away, that's why you ran. Because you knew if you stayed, you'd never be able to leave."
"That's not true," I whispered, but even as I said it, I knew it for what it was, a lie. I could feel the falseness of it on my tongue.
I remembered being fifteen, newly presented, looking at these four men and feeling something terrifying stir in my chest. I remembered lying awake at night, thinking about them, wanting things I didn't understand. I remembered the day I'd decided to run at eighteen, the day I'd realized that if I didn't leave immediately, I never would.
I'd run because I loved them. And I've been running ever since.
"It's okay to be scared," Leo said quietly, his thumb brushing away tears I hadn't realized I was still crying, his touch impossibly gentle for hands that had pinned me down and made me beg. "It's okay to be angry. Hit me again if you need to—I can take it. But don't lie to yourself about what you feel. That's the one thing I won't let you do."
"Leo." Mason's voice came from somewhere behind me, low and warning, tight with barely leashed tension. "She's had enough."
"She's had exactly enough," Leo replied without looking away from me, his gray eyes never leaving mine, his bloody face set with quiet certainty. "She needed to hear it. She's been running from this for eight years, Mason. At some point, she has to stop."
