In his fucked-up “we’re family” reasoning, I knew he wouldn’t kill me; it would ruin his long game. But I hadprovisions in place, regardless. The incriminating evidence wasn't one or two things—it was many—and like I promised and pledged, one day I would find someone to listen.
He clearly saw our arrangement similar to how I did. The overly generous monthly stipend he offered was a surprise, as were the regular calls I could make to my sister to check on her welfare. There were the obligatory promises of violence against anyone connected with me—aka my sister and my mother—if I stepped a toe out of line, but I wanted my revenge against him so bad, I did everything I said I would and more.
I attended the best private university to finish my degree before working my ass off at medical school. And living on my own at the age of eighteen forced me to grow up in ways you couldn’t imagine unless you’d done it yourself. All of a sudden, I was responsible for my own safety and welfare. Each thing I did, from where I lived to what I ate to who I befriended, served a purpose.
Similarly, becoming more comfortable with who I was as an Omega was something that came with experiencing heats and dealing with softer emotions and needs. I didn’t shy away from my tears or my slick; I found a way to harness the strength in the gentle nature of who I am. Mostly. Kade was proof I was still a prisoner to my softer nature.
Deena clears her throat, no doubt aware of my quick-but-poignant rush of reminders of what happened and why we’re in this exact place.
Deena is a major player in all this, which means her concern is valid.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know, Quinn. I’m still allowed to worry.”
“All you need to do is love this boy, like you already do. In twelve months, we get new names before we ride off into thesunset, where we will enjoy the rest of our lives, happily and safely.”
“That’s the plan,” she says softly before her voice drops even lower. “I’ll protect him with my life.”
“I know that.”
“I’ll put the bread in the oven, don’t be too long,” she says, dismissing me in a sense, but we’ve got the next few days to talk over our plans. Tonight is about Marco.
I stop by the bathroom, changing into some loose pants and a long T-shirt I stole from Kade.
Marco is sitting up, waiting, his quilt wrapped around him making him look like a burrito. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glazed, and as soon as he sees me, he flops backward, feigning sleep.
I wait until he checks to see why it’s taking me so long to get to him, signing, “you’re a cheeky monkey” as I run over the distance to wrap him up in a cuddle. His smile is the only confirmation I need that I’ve made the right decision in leaving him for twelve months. I know I won’t be able to rush what I have to do, but at the same time, one year is too long in my opinion.
Marco knows I’m going away. Every time I see him, we talk about it. He doesn’t like it, but he understands. I’ve never hidden from Marco the truth about his heritage and his family. What I have done, though, is hide him. Once Marco is of age and capable of making his own decisions, he’ll be given everything he will need to understand why I made the decisions I did, including the one to leave. If he wants to return then, I won’t stop him.
The safety-deposit box is a just-in-case box, because I’m mostly confident I can pull off one year married to the head of the Petrov Bratva, though there is a saying about best-laid plans.
Marco pulls my hand out from around him and turns to lie on his back.
“What happened?” He points to my face, where only a white patch remains, then at the bandage on my hand.
I knew he wouldn’t miss it. Even sick as a dog, he’s still very perceptive. And I’m still in denial, hence the bandage, which is well and truly unnecessary now.
He watches my face as I mouth back, my hands in his periphery for him to read. “I was fighting off a monster, he bit me, then took a swipe with his giant claws.”
He throws his hands around aggressively, baring his teeth. “Tell the truth.” Displaying the hallmarks of an Alpha.
He’s way too young to designate, but Marco continues to have pretty clear signs, nonetheless. Very early on, I knew he’d be a strong Alpha. I will do whatever I can to make sure he becomes whoever he wants to be, but I won’t let him be an asshole in his strength.
I stare him down, and he catches himself. After steadying himself, he tries again, even giving me a slightly cheesy, apologetic grin. “Please.”
Not waiting for me to explain, he traces the faint mark on my face, quickly moving on to the more gruesome injury. Despite his outburst only a second ago, he holds my hand carefully as he pulls off the plaster.
The constant throbbing I’ve been experiencing for weeks, and staunchly ignoring, beats hard like a bongo drum. After it happened, I checked it religiously for infection. It’s actually healed well. I suspect the sensation I sometimes feel from it is nothing more than my brain reading way more into the situation.
“It looks deep. Will it go away?” he asks after twisting my hand in the light to see it from all angles.
“Hopefully.”
He shuffles again on his side. “How did it happen, though?” He keeps inspecting it. I’d like to pull it away and pretend it’s not there, but Marco presses it against his cheek in his attempt to comfort me.
He reads my lips. “An accident at work. An Alpha was in trouble, and I tried to help him and got hurt in the process.”
