She nods in understanding before looking back at the compound. I can see the light emanating from the few windows, and I wonder what they are all doing. Gage and Diego. Olly.
How are they handling what happened? Are they freaking out, too? Or are they stronger than I am and kicking back to drink in celebration?
Do they notice Auryn is gone?
Will they come looking for her, will they—
Auryn’s hand slides into mine, pulling me from my momentary spiral. I look down to see her small, bloody fingers intertwined with mine, and suddenly I realize how much I missed it.
Her touch.
How can you crave something and not know it? Is it even possible?
Auryn makes everything possible. At the same time, it’s impossible to know anything else.
I squeeze her small hand, running my thumb along her soft skin. The blood there is dry, but it stains her all the same. My hands are not without blood either, and I think that they will never be truly clean.
If this job with Auryn, with Sneed, has taught me anything, it’s that good and bad aren’t so simple.
I never questioned my orders from Gage before I met Auryn. And now, I feel like everything I’ve ever known has been a lie.
Having been in the cage Auryn and the others were in, having been on the other side of things…
I tug her hand softly and take one step towards the woods. Then another.
Auryn follows me. She lets me lead her into the woods, and something about that makes me feel both emboldened and sad at the same time.
My fighter, my warrior…
She’s tired. She’s spent, just like me, and perhaps even more. For she was the one who was threatened, who had endured Sneed’s experiments and torture and lived only to stand before him and have not just her, but her childthreatened.
“Are you okay?” I ask when we reach a clearing. The moon shines down on the water beneath the cliffs, and I think back all those weeks ago. When Gage said she’d jumped off that cliff into the waters like she had nothing to lose.
“You’re askingmeif I’m okay?” she says, a dark chuckle escaping her lips.
“I mean, you killed a guy. That alone will fuck up a person.” I say humorously.
She drops my hand, and my smile fades.
“I’m not sure,” she says honestly. She steps into my space, and I don’t think twice about wrapping her in my arms. I just do it. I pull her close, and she lets me. I close my eyes, breathe in her sweet lavender and lemon scent. There’s a hint of cinnamon and peppercorn, but it’s not strong like it usually is. It’s there, but it’s not overpowering.
Because my mate is complex. She’s not an omega or an alpha or innocent or guilty.
She’s everything. She’s the blade and the flower, and she’s a fucking miracle.
Her body sinks against me, and then I feel it. The wetness against my shirt. It’s fresh and warm.
Her body shakes, and the sobs commence, and the dam inside of me breaks too as I bury my face in her hair and breathe deep.
I try to keep my own sobs in, but it’s useless. Her body pressed against mine, her scent, her frame, and knowing what was done to her—what was done tous— and that we are somehow, still alive…It’s a lot.
And then those terrifying images creep up into my psyche, and I grip her a little tighter.
When I pull away, I grab her face and make a point to stare into her eyes. They are glassy, dark, and full of understanding.
The unspoken words between us will stay that way, I realize.
We’ll bury them here.
