by Ellis Marie
I watch as his shoulders shake and his knuckles turn white, the wood underneath his fingertips splintering at the pressure he’s putting it under.
“I didn’t think of the consequences. I didn’t factor the danger that I was putting myself in, but Lou did; he knew I was going to go after them. He either felt so much guilt for what had happened with Michael or he was trying to redeem himself with me, but whatever it was, it made him follow me out into the forest. He witnessed me massacring the group of rogues, and I had no idea that he was there.
“That’s why when he stepped in front of me, to stop me from killing them all so that we’d be able to question at least one of them, I didn’t even recognise him. My wolf didn’t recognise him. I tore right through him. I only stopped when I thought he was dead.”
Oh my god.
“The scent of his blood hit me when I was changing back as I was crawling out of the fog in my head. That’s the only reason I recognised him—his scent. I couldn’t see a part of him that wasn’t shredded or dripping with blood, but I hadn’t actually killed him despite what I thought. By some miracle, he was alive. Whether it was because my wolf had started to tire or the pain from my injuries, I hadn’t finished it. Part of me hopes that maybe it’s because there was a piece of my wolf that couldn’t do it, but I’ve never dared to think that’s even possible. Not with the mess he was in. I picked him up and ran to Scarlette’s house. I begged Deli to save him, but that’s all that came out my mouth. I don’t know who was in more shock—me or Deli. I just stood there, shaking, covered in blood.”
I can see from across the room that his fingers are bleeding, that the broken pieces of wood are digging into his flesh the more he speaks, but he doesn’t seem to care. As if he’s doing it on purpose.
He’s still torturing himself.
“Cole told me Lou was attacked by rogues,” I say hesitantly, trying to pull him out of his own dark thoughts. “He clearly doesn’t blame you.”
I have to try to help.
I know he’s heard me by the slight tilt to his chin but nothing else changes. He continues to stand like marble, unbreaking.
Try again.
“If other people can forgive you, then maybe—”
“He doesn’t know,” Trent chokes out, his voice tearing through my ability to speak. “Lou woke up while she was tending to him. I tried to apologise, to make him understand that I’d never have hurt him if I knew, but the damage was done. His leg wasn’t healing, and Deli couldn’t do anything about it. There’s only a couple of injuries that wolves can’t totally recover from.”
I already know what it is before he says it, my stomach twisting at the thought.
“Alphas are never supposed to hurt their own pack, so when they do, the injuries they inflict never heal. A traitor, a challenger, someone who deserves to be hurt. Punishment should be warranted, so there’s no reason for them to be healed. When Lou realised, he told me that I couldn’t tell anyone what really happened. He said that our pack was already falling apart, my father was losing his mind, and if anyone knew the truth? If the pack found out?” The laugh that emits from him is a breath. I slowly rise to my feet, not knowing how much longer I can sit and watch him hurt himself.
“An alpha is only as strong as his pack, and if ours knew that I’d almost killed one of our own, they never would have let me take over from my father. And I needed to takeover. We wouldn’t have lasted if he continued, and there was no one else who could step up when things were beginning to fall apart. Whether that was because no one was strong enough or if it was because everyone was frightened of me, I don’t know, but . . . I had to be alpha. So Deli kept the secret, so did Scarlette and Lou. They told everyone that the rogues had poisoned his leg with some unknown substance and the injuries weren’t going to heal. Lou told me that he could never forgive me for what I did to him, but for the sake of the pack, he would support me.
“Obviously, some people don’t believe it. My father is one of them. When I went to tell him that I’d avenged our family and the rogues were dead, he just shook his head. He laughed and told me that his family was all already dead and that he knew what a monster I really was. He stepped down from being alpha that night. Other people have just assumed, I suppose, but no one has ever said anything to me. I just see the way people look—”
I’m over to him before he even cuts himself off, circling my arms around his waist like they belong there. My head hitting his back with a soft thud.
“Don’t,” I beg—a single word after a speech of so many truths. “Don’t.”
I don’t know what to say.
I want to hold him and tell him that it isn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. That no matter what he thinks, he can’t blame himself, that he isn’t the monster he has convinced himself that he is, but . . . I know he won’t listen. I’m struggling to see how I can show him, so instead, I just hold him, waiting for his fists to unclench, his body to stop shaking, and his guilt to let him breathe again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I’m unsure how long we stand there.
My arms turn numb after a while, but I keep them around him, knowing that right now I’m the only thing holding him together. After a while, his hands drop from the ledge and swing to his sides like a pendulum, softly knocking against me. When I feel the tension in his back lessen, I decide to move, my eyes unable to cope with staring at his bloodied fingers for much longer.
I don’t even want to know how badly damaged his window ledge is.
Gently, I take a hold of his wrist and guide him to the bathroom. He follows me as his footsteps like that of a child’s, padding softly along the carpet. He still doesn’t say anything as I turn on the light and make him sit on the edge of the bathtub, his tall frame only seeming normal due to the size of it.
The last time that I was in this bathroom, I pushed him away. I sat under the shower and cried until I passed out. It’s strange to think that it was only a week or so ago. So much has changed; I’ve changed.
I already know by the glazed look in his eyes and the emotionless expression that Trent isn’t paying attention to me. He’s caught up in his own thoughts and revelations, no matter how much he wants to forget them. All I can do is wait for him to be ready to speak again. He’s waited for me to do the same in the past.
Carefully, I unfurl his hands and assess the damage, trying to peer through the blood and splinters. It’s not like I think he won’t recover, but I want to look after him. This is one of the only times that he’s not looking after me.
I slowly begin to remove the pieces of wood from his skin, trying to be gentle so as to not hurt him, but by the way his body is unmoving, it’s clear that the pain is barely anything to him. I don’t mind the silence while I work. It gives me a chance to process everything in my head at the moment. The almost cinematic replays of the stories that Trent’s told me, the secrets he’s entrusted me with.
I know that in him opening up to me, he’s asking me if I’ll accept him for who he is. I already know the answer. Of course, I will.
Everything today, from the beach to even five minutes ago, has made me realise that whatever this man does. There wouldn’t be anything that could turn me against him.
He isn’t evil. Not in the way that I know. Not in a real way.
The thought of hurting someone he loves is enough to torture him. I can only begin to try and understand how much he’s hurting in knowing that he he’s actually done it.
Especially in a way that can’t be undone.
It makes me realise why he puts up with Lou and why he seemed scared of what he had said to me before. It isn’t because he doesn’t want me to know the secret, but it’s because he’s worried that I would turn my back on him.
Realising that all the splinters are out of his hand, I stand up, dropping them into the bin as I grab a dark hand towel to clean his skin. I wait for the water to turn warm before I run it underneath, letting it soak up.
How is it that I feel so safe around someone who I know can rip me apart without a moment’s notice? It isn’t because I’m not afraid of werewolves and this entire supernatural world that I’ve fallen into, because I am, it’s because under all of it, he’s still just a man—a good man. Far better than any that have already been in my life.
I sit back down beside him and lift his hand onto my lap, cautiously wiping away the blood as I prepare to assess the cuts left behind. I take the towel away; however, there are only faint scratches there, the only indication that anything ever even happened.
I chuckle under my breath. So there’s the answer to how quickly they can heal.
When I look back up, I jump slightly upon seeing Trent’s eyes watching me. Gone is the blank expression. Now, it mirrors my own— amusement at my expense.
“I didn’t think it was that quick,” I explain, a little embarrassed as I drop his hand. “Still getting used to this werewolf thing.”
“Well, it has been a hell of a day for it.”
It takes me a second to realise that Trent is actually speaking, and not only that, but making a joke. I can’t stop my smile from widening.
“Yeah,” I agree quietly. “That’s true.”
We’re silent for a minute while I fold the towel aimlessly, the sound of the fan above us the only noise. He’s waiting for me to speak, to ask.
“You told me that it was reckless for me to step in front of you earlier,” I start, the golf ball in my throat staying lodged for the time being. “It’s because you thought you’d hurt me like you hurt Lou, isn’t it? You weren’t meant to have been able to stop.”
When I look back at him, there’s no sign of panic or anger on his features, just pure acceptance, like he already knew what I’m going to say.
“Yes.”
His answer is short and barely a whisper, but I hear it, a confirmation that settles the worries I have about asking the burning question that’s fighting to jump off my tongue.
“Then why?” I ask. “Why did you stop?”
The corner of Trent’s mouth curves into a smile, the glow in his eyes only building as he gazes at me, unwavering. “You know that first day in English class before we sat together? You turned and looked at me from your seat because you felt me staring?”
I nod, remembering the way I had blushed.
“You grinned at me and that was the first moment in my life that my wolf and I agreed on something—that you were utterly perfect.”
Is he trying to make me melt?
“When I’d met you outside, I was so confused because of Matt and the way you were with me, that I thought I might be wrong. That you weren’t my mate, and this was just punishment for my actions—a glimpse at a life I could have had, but when you looked at me that time and I saw the way your cheeks coloured and your breath hitched? God, Elle.” He shakes his head slightly, clearing his throat. “If you’d have asked me to, I would have died for you right there. No questions asked.” He shrugs, his fingers tracing the lines on his palm.
“That’s when I knew for sure that you were everything I could have ever dreamed of . . . and more. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t trying to hold back my wolf or my own thoughts, they merged as one and that thought was you. Completely and utterly you.”
If my heart could be heard, then I’m sure it would just sound like a vibration because I feel as though I haven’t breathed in days with the way he is looking at me. Like I’m his sun.
His moon. His luna.
“And that’s why he didn’t hurt me?” I quickly say, avoiding his eyes. “Because you both agreed?”
He laughs at my summary, tilting his head to the side as he brushes a hand through his hair. “It sounds so simple when you say it, but yes. That’s the main reason.”
“You must disagree a lot then,” I tease quietly.
“Oh, you have no idea.” The humour drops from his tone for a second, furrowing his brows. “I convinced both of us that we didn’t deserve a mate, or at least wouldn’t be given one. So when I met you, I could barely breathe, let alone try to come to terms with it, but I managed. I think an animal is a lot harder to get through to than a human and it’s taken him a while to accept that you’re here. That we deserve you, despite the horrific things we’ve done.”
“I’m not scared of you, Trent,” I reply with a strength that’s new to me, the honesty behind it pushing me forward. “I don’t think I could be any more even if I tried. I know monsters and you’re not one of them.”
I can almost see the weight lifting off his shoulders and the peace that my words have brought him after years of turmoil, as if he has been waiting for me to let him know that he can get past this. That he’s more than what his wolf has made him.
“Thank you for saying that.”
My heart swells at the genuine smile on his face, so pure and innocent. It makes me realise that he’s probably never heard anything close to it from the people he was supposed to—from his parents, his brother . . . his family.
“I mean it,” I admit, twisting the fabric between my fingers into knots. “We don’t get to pick the family that we’re born into, but we can choose our new one.”
Shut up, Elle.
“I just want you to know that I don’t think there’s a single thing that you could do that would make me turn my back on you,” I rush out. “Not ever.”
His hand lands on my fumbling ones, dwarfing them as he holds them still, causing me to lift my head up to him.
Trying to stop my rambling seems impossible until our eyes meet. I just need him to see that I accept him. Completely.
The air around us is static as we stare at each other, both of our souls bared in a way that we’ve never shown anyone before.
“Elle,” he whispers, an emotion in his eyes that I can feel in my heart.
Just say it.
I can feel the words itching to break free, like the only thing stopping me is this wall that I’ve built that I can’t get passed.
Say it.
He moves in closer, the hand on my lap keeping me still.
It’s now that I realise my legs are bare and the T-shirt I’m wearing barely covers them sitting like this. As my senses awaken, my skin begins to prick, and a shiver goes up my spine . . . right before a taste of acid makes its way into my mouth.
The memories break the daze that his face has charmed me into, slipping through in the cracks of my unease. I clear my throat and pull back from him, throwing the towel onto the counter as I move. My eyes dart around for an escape route.
“You’ve got blood on your shirt,” I tell him, relieved that there’s actually something to hide my nervous reaction. “You should probably shower.”
I’m already walking towards the door before I finish speaking, my legs carrying me on their own accord while my mind fumbles with itself to get a grip.
“You’re probably right,” he agrees, a small but almost pained smile accompanying it. He looks so lonely sitting in the room all by himself.
“I’ll wait outside.” I slam the door behind me before he can say anything else, embarrassment seeping into me like a dripping tap and chipping away at the confidence I thought I found earlier.
You’re worthless.
My back hits the door. I close my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart.
Why had I said all that silly stuff about new families? Why am I letting myself believe that that is true? How can I forget who I am?
“Stupid,” I hiss, fingers ripping into my scalp. “So stupid.”
From behind the door, I hear the shower switch on. The gentle echo of the water hitting the tiles causes my head to spin with images of who’s behind it and what I’ve walked away from.
We deserve you.
That’s what Trent had said, that he didn’t believe he did but that I’ve shown him the truth.
Isn’t that what he’s done for me? Hasn’t he shown me that I deserve more?
The ringing in my ears
begins to fade as the metallic taste in my mouth disappearing as I swallow my cautions.
I thought myself as worthless and broken, and it’s clear that he views himself the same. The two of us have berated ourselves for so long that the idea that we can be happy is a pipe dream, something to think of when we fall asleep but never have in real life. He has a wolf inside his head that he tries not to listen to.
And me? I have a blue-eyed boy that tells me I’m worthless.
Before I realise it, my hand is on the door handle. My grip tightens as I take a breath, the voice screaming at me to stop. It tells me to listen to it, to leave the room, and go back to bed where I can have another nightmare about a time in my life when I was powerless and meaningless. It urges me to stop before I make a fool of myself, but I don’t.
I push it open quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. The sound of it swinging and hitting the wall like a siren announcing my arrival into the steam-filled arena.
Trent isn’t in the shower yet and is still wearing his shorts—thank god—but he stands shirtless with his back to me.
I would love to ogle his body and get a closer look at his tattoos, but my mind is currently so numb to anything apart from the idea I have in my head, that I worry that the tiniest distraction might make me crumble again.
As I step into the room and let the door swing shut, he turns around with confusion dotted across his expression as he takes in my shaking figure.
“Elle? Is everything okay?”
I take a deep breath, flexing my fingers as I subtly nod, my eyes trained on his face and the comfort that he brings me while trying to ignore his shirtless torso.
I can do this. It’s Trent.
“I am the best I’ve been in a long time,” I answer, my voice sounding stronger than I feel. “And that’s because of you. Whether you want to take all the credit or not, it is. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, despite what you think about yourself.”
