by P. Jameson
She pressed her lips together. It was probably the best deal she was getting. And besides, Ratchet wasn't wrong on this.
"Fine."
A look of satisfaction spread across his face. "Now that that's settled. Is there anyone else you want to find on here?" He slid the chair over for her to sit in front of the computer.
"My mom," she whispered. "I'd like to know how she is. Where she is. Because when it's all over and the girls are safe, I want to see her. But... you know, not until the nightmare is over. Really over. I want to bring her smiles, not more to worry about."
"Type her name in."
Marlee clicked around a few seconds, trying to get her bearings. But the internet had changed a lot in ten years. "Uh... here?"
"No, there."
"Here?"
"No. There."
"Right here."
Ratchet sighed. "Stand up."
She let him have the chair and moved to stand behind him. But she didn't get very far because he pulled her down onto his lap.
She froze in surprise, but he just squinted at the screen and moved the mouse around like a pro. His other arm linked around her waist like it was natural, like they sat like this all the time, his hand resting on her thigh while he worked.
"Name?"
"Uh... Gina Miranda Benson. Her last address was 2014 Penn Avenue."
He tapped it out in the box and hit enter. Her eyes scanned the results as he scrolled, and it didn't take long to learn a new horrible truth.
"Marlee," he said, going tense. "She's—"
"It's not her."
No way. It couldn’t be.
His arm tightened around her waist as he clicked the link for a news article from three years ago.
Her mouth went dry as she read the headline:
Mother of Teen Missing Seven Years Dies Without Answers
"No," she breathed.
But her eyes were scanning ahead. They hit on the words ‘cancer’ and ‘broken heart’ and ‘local Casino mogul Bastian Marx’.
She slowed down to read, but her eyes were filling with tears, and her heart was begging this to be a mistake.
Marlee Benson, eighteen, disappeared mysteriously seven years ago, walking home from a movie late one Saturday night. Suspicion was cast by family members on a local casino mogul with known ties to her father. After a lengthy investigation, Bastian Marx was cleared as a person of interest, leading police to look more closely at her father as a suspect. Which also resulted in a deadend when he died in 2011. Now, after a lengthy battle with cancer, her mother Gina, has also succumbed without ever having closure in her daughter’s case. With no other leads, the world may never know what happened to young Marlee Benson.
"No. No, no."
She could feel Ratchet watching her, his grip on her tightening, but she couldn't stop reading about her mom dying, sick and alone, and still believing Marlee was alive and being tortured for her father's debts.
Emotions pelted her like some angry hailstorm. She felt faint. A hand flew to her chest where her heart was breaking.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Not this.
She'd dreamed of the day when she was free. And part of that dream had been showing up on her mother's doorstep. Knocking on the door. Anticipating her answer. Seeing the look of relief on her face as she was reunited with her only daughter. Feeling her mom's arms wrap her up in a hug like she used to do when Marlee was a kid.
And now...
After all that. After fighting so hard. She was never going to see her mother again.
If only she could have gotten free sooner.
But how? Three years ago, before Nyla came, she'd been in even worse shape than when Ratchet found her.
Mom, no.
Cancer. She'd died from that beast. Died knowing she would never find out what happened to Marlee.
It was too much. This was too unfair. How much horrible shit did the universe have waiting for her? How much was she supposed to endure?
A sob burst from her throat, and she didn't try to stop it. She succumbed. Because if there had been any little bit of hope that her life could be righted eventually, it was dust in the wind now.
Bastian had truly taken every part of who she used to be from her.
Now there was only what she would become. And she wasn’t sure what that was going to look like.
Your name is Marlee Benson…
Fill in the blank.
***
Ratchet watched his mate from his perch on the blanket. They’d taken to the roof even though it was just barely dusk. Marlee had needed air, and now she was pacing a dent in the metal roof.
Three days had passed since she learned about her mother. Three days of her tucking away back into herself. Three gifts he’d brought home that didn’t light up her eyes. Three nights of holding her through nightmares.
They were moving backwards.
And if they kept it up, he’d never be strong enough to protect her. Nevermind the entire clan.
Enough was enough.
He got to his feet, standing in her path so she’d have to stop and face him.
“Talk to me, mate.”
She came to a stop too far away but at least she met his gaze. “About what?”
“Whatever has you a mess right now. I can feel you… tortured over something. Feel it through our bond.”
He rubbed at his chest, the burning spot there in the center. It was getting hotter but that’s as far as it went. And the more hopeless she felt, the more he was beginning to believe their situation was doomed.
Shit.
“What does that even mean?” she snapped. “Why do you talk in code?”
He frowned. “Not talking in code. I’m trying to tell you I feel what you’re going through. In my chest. I just don’t know why. And if I don’t know why, I can’t fix it.”
“Maybe you can’t.” Her voice flew at him all high pitched and panicky. Like it had been before.
Yeah, they were definitely moving backwards.
Fuck.
“Come here,” he growled.
She lifted her chin, arms crossed over her perfect little chest. “No.”
No?
Oh, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Marlee, come here.”
“Why?”
“Because you need to be reminded.”
“Of what?”
Goddamn it. So many questions. And this sassy side of her was turning him on.
What was he thinking? Every side of her turned him on.
“Of who I am,” he snapped. “Of what I can do for you. Of how far I will go to get you back to how you were a few nights ago. Happy and safe. Like you should be.”
Her mouth fished open and shut, and all the fight bled from her expression.
“Come here, lamb,” he demanded softly, and this time she moved closer.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears wetting her eyes. “I know you’re trying.”
Fucking tears. He hated them. Especially after making her smile so much.
“I won’t stop,” he promised. He swiped one away from her cheek. And another. One more before curving his fingers around her jaw. “Tell me.”
“I just keep thinking, if I could have gotten free sooner, if I’d worked like Bastian wanted… I could have paid off the debt and… and… been there for her.”
The tears came too fast for him to wipe away.
Shit. His lamb was stronger than he ever knew. But she was down right now. Hurting in a way he couldn’t fix.
“But that’s not all. Then I think what if the same thing is happening to one of the girls? What if every day that I’m here, every day I don’t get help for them, is keeping them away from someone who loves them. Someone who needs them. All of this swirls around inside me until I feel sick from it, Ratchet. We have to do something.”
“I know.”
He pulled her into his chest, finding relief in the way she leaned on him. He couldn’t let her do
wn. She was depending on him to free the girls. So were Skittles and Monster. But the beast inside wasn’t giving him any more. The healing had stalled after he took Marlee to bed. Almost like the thing was confused.
Inside, he was changed. A brand new man. One who could love and felt loved. But he was no closer to shifting. He couldn’t form fire like Monster. And there was no roaring, flame spitting beast pushing out of his body like Malcom.
And without the beast… he couldn’t keep Marlee safe.
His gut clenched at the implication. He’d promised her protection. Even from himself. Even from his clan.
He swallowed hard, fingers digging into her hips to keep her near.
If he couldn’t get his power back, the only way to make her safe was to send her far away from the Alley Cats and Bastian. Far away from Memphis. So far that none of them could ever find her.
No, the beast roared. Keep her. And keep the young. Keep ours.
Ratchet went stiff at the words rolling through his mind on repeat.
Keep her.
Keep the young.
Keep ours.
Young. What young?
He pulled back to look at her. She was the same. No change. He heard wrong. Or… his beast was losing it. Going insane from being broken so long.
“What?” she asked. “What is it?”
Mate is with young. She carries a cub.
No way. No fucking way.
He bent his head to her neck just under her ear, inhaling hard. Again and again, desperate for confirmation.
“Ratchet, what are you doing?”
“Scenting,” he said distractedly. But no matter how much of her scent he pulled in, he couldn’t smell a pregnancy.
He went to his knees, spreading his fingers over her flat stomach. He couldn’t feel the energy that should be there. The little flare of light behind her skin telling him there was a new life growing. He couldn’t feel anything like that.
“Ratchet?”
His senses were too dull. They weren’t as dull as when he was first cursed, but they weren’t healed enough to sense a young. Or fertility, he realized. Goddamn. How did he miss that? Of course he couldn’t smell her heat like this, without his cat.
Broken.
Not completely, the beast reminded.
Half healed, still useless.
He lifted her shirt, pressing his nose to her skin and inhaling again. And then lower, closer to her—
He froze.
Arousal.
Mate is needy.
“Ratchet, please. Why are you doing this?”
But if he could smell her need, he could catch some hint of a baby. He just had to keep trying.
Come on, you fucking firecat. Give me something.
He tugged the front of her pants down, exposing her hot pussy. She gasped at his actions but didn’t stop him. Gripping her ass, he pressed her hips to his face, dragging in so much air he felt lightheaded.
And there it was.
The faintest hint that her essence had changed. So faint, it was a fucking miracle he could sense it at all.
He inhaled again, just to be sure.
Young. She had a young in her. One he’d put there. Damn, he hadn’t meant to, but now the idea filled him with so much satisfaction he was practically bursting.
Satisfaction and… fear.
He couldn’t keep them safe. Not her, and especially not a baby.
Not from Felix and the Alley Cat life. Not from Bastian. Not from… himself.
“Fuck.”
He stood, somehow keeping his feet under him.
“Ratchet?” Her question came out a half-moan. Her eyes were lusty and beautiful.
But he had to tell her.
“Oh shit, Marlee. Shit. I think I put a baby in you.”
She blinked. It must have been twenty times. The lust evaporated like fog meeting the morning sun.
“What?”
“A baby, lamb. I think I gave you a baby.”
“H-how do you know?”
“I can smell it. When was your last heat?”
She blinked again. “My heat? Ratchet this is crazy. Are you… are you okay?”
Shit, what did the humans call it? “Your cycle. Are you late?”
She swallowed hard. “My period? I haven’t been normal for a long time. It went away when Bastian kept food from me. It only came back once or twice in the past year. I… I… don’t know.”
He hooked her pinky and pulled her toward the ladder. He went down first, landing on the grate with a thud before reaching up to help her.
Careful. There’s a young now.
When she was on the last step, he lifted her down and helped her through the window. He pulled her to the bed and motioned for her to sit.
“Stay there. Do not move. I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get a test.”
He kissed her head and stalked for the door, but she stopped him before he made it through.
“Ratchet?”
“Yeah, lamb.” He found her worried gaze and did his best to push strength to her through their bond. Their bond that was feeling shaky instead of strong.
“I’m scared.”
“I know.” And fuck, he couldn’t stop his next words. “I am too.”
Then he pushed into the hall, emotion making him burn.
And this time there would be nothing to put the fire out.
Chapter Eighteen
Marlee sat on the bed, feeling bewildered. Cradled in her hand was the proof that Ratchet could freaking smell a pregnancy. She stared at the white plastic strip and the two little blue lines still feeling like this was one big prank. Or another stupid dream. Would she wake up and find this wasn’t reality?
But no. She knew it was real.
She’d taken the entire three pack of tests.
“Say something, mate.” He stood in the door of the bathroom, rigid, arms crossed.
Scowl in place.
Damn. She loved him, didn’t she? Like, really loved him. The man who gave more than he got.
Except this time he’d given her something they would share forever.
“How did you know?”
“I could sense it.” As if that explained knowing she was pregnant before she did.
“But… how?”
He pushed off from the jamb and began pacing. “My animal,” he muttered. “It’s in there, and it knew.”
He glanced her way, seeing she was still confused and tried again.
“I have a beast inside. It’s hard to explain. The thing has been broken for a long time, but it’s healing now, since you. Since finding you and loving you. You, you, you. Shit, lamb. I told you… you’re everything.”
“I don’t understand.”
He stalked forward, falling to his knees next to the bed. Her buried his face in her stomach again, inhaling hard. But this time he didn’t seem like a bloodhound. More like he was trying to keep it for remembering later. He squeezed her close, nuzzling his cheek against her like a cat rubbing on its human.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it in her middle. That piece of her heart that had pulled her toward him since the moment he found her… it hurt.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. Explaining what I am isn’t important after this,” he said, exhaling a shuddering breath. “There’s only one thing that matters and it’s that I can’t protect you here. I can’t keep you and a young safe.”
She set the pregnancy test aside and hugged his head close, running her finger over his hair. Whatever that did, his arms tightened around her even more. Anything to make him feel better. They could get through this. Sure, they could.
They just needed a way to beat Bastian. A way to make Felix a nicer person.
Or maybe that’s what Ratchet meant. That they couldn’t stay here. Not now, with a baby coming.
Okay.
They could run away. It would take longer to get the girls free now, but the
y would find a way.
There was always a way.
She nodded to herself, tangling her fingers in his hair. She’d lost hope for a minute after learning about her mom. A sharp ache hit her chest at the reminder. But she was Marlee Benson. She’d survived being Thirteen. She’d found a way out, and now she’d find a way through the rest. She wouldn’t stop until everyone she cared about was safe.
“What now?” she asked, pressing her lips to his head. He’d know what to do. He took such good care of her. Always. He’d be the most protective father for their baby. Be hard, because it was who he was. But he’d be soft too, because that’s what he wanted for the people he loved.
His arms got impossibly tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh.
“Now…” His voice was gritty. He didn’t sound like himself. And whatever solution she’d expected him to come up with, it wasn’t what came out of his mouth. “It’s time to set you free.”
“What?” She frowned and pushed his head back until he looked at her.
His expression was twisted like in pain. And there was no doubt that his eyes had changed to something else. The blue blazed so bright she was sure she’d be able to see them in the dark.
“Time for you to be free, lamb,” he growled low. “You need to leave tonight. Get far from here. Take our baby and live a good life. One where there’s no reason to be afraid. One like you deserve.”
“What?” Things inside were crumbling, the bottom sliding out of her world all over again. Like it had so many times before.
“You have to go. I’ll stay here and finish what we started. Free the dolls, heal my clan.” His gaze went dark. “Make sure Bastian can never hurt you or anyone else again. This is how I make you free, Marlee. This is how I make sure my young is never raised an Alley Cat.”
“No,” she snapped, pushing him away. She shoved him hard, palms smacking against his chest. He got to his feet, hands in the air like he was just going to take whatever else she threw. “No. I’m staying.”
“It’s too dangerous,” he hissed. “You’re a vulnerability.”
The word snapped from his mouth like a slap. And it stung as bad as one.
“You said love wasn’t a vulnerability for your people,” she shot back. “That it could heal you and change you and make you stronger.” But her voice sounded hurt instead of angry like she wanted to be.
