Page 27 of Trapped By the Cartel

"I'm so sorry," Elliot murmured, his arms wrapping around me, offering comfort and solace. "I can't imagine how much that must have hurt."

"It did," I agreed, burying my face in his neck, breathing in his sweet scent. "But that pain taught me valuable lessons. I still carry them with me, even today."

We lay there in silence for a while, each lost in our thoughts, our bodies pressed tightly together. Finally, Elliot broke the quietude, his voice tentative as he asked, "So, what does this mean for us? For our future?"

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the conversation ahead. "That depends entirely on you, little omega. On what you want—and what you need—to be happy, safe, and fulfilled."

As we lay entwined, basking in the warm glow of post-coital bliss, I couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Elliot's demeanor. The stubborn pride that had been his shield moments before began to crack, revealing the vulnerability hiding beneath. It was clear that the weight of his circumstanceswas finally catching up with him, just as I thought it would happen.

"Damon," he started, eyes looking left and right. "About what I said earlier..."

I waited patiently, knowing full well that whatever was troubling him would come out eventually. And when it did, I wanted him to feel comfortable enough to be completely honest with me.

"Yes?" I prompted gently, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.

He sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "It's just... everything I said about leaving, about having choices... it was mostly bullshit."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep any hint of judgment from my expression. I already knew it was all bullshit.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he muttered, looking down at where our fingers were intertwined. "There's literally nothing waiting for me outside these walls. My family—well, they don't give two shits about me. They probably haven't even noticed I'm gone yet."

A pang of sympathy echoed through me, but I kept my expression neutral, allowing him to continue without interruption. I had felt the same way sometimes about my own family.

"And as for friends... Well, let's just say that growing up in a secluded community dedicated to preserving ancient lore didn't exactly lend itself to making lifelong pals. I mean, sure, there were people I knew, but none of them were particularly close. Not really."

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"My prospects for a professional career are equally bleak. I spent my entire life learning ancient languages and studying esoteric histories, thinking that I'd go off and become some sortof renowned linguist or historian. But then reality set in, and I realized that nobody gives a damn about dead languages or dusty old books anymore. At least, not anyone willing to pay a living wage."

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. I didn't know why he ever thought it was going to be different. It should have been obvious to him that it was a dead end.

"So yeah, when I told you that I could leave here and start fresh—I wasn't being entirely truthful. Because honestly, Damon, the thought of going back to that empty house, alone and isolated, makes me want to scream."

There it was—the raw honesty I had been waiting for. I pulled him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. I wanted to protect him and make him feel loved.

"I see," I murmured. "And what about staying here, with the Nightshade Pack? What do you think about that option?"

He hesitated, considering my question carefully. "To be perfectly honest, it terrifies me. All this nakedness, the constant displays of affection and intimacy... It's all so foreign and overwhelming. But at the same time..." He trailed off, biting his lip nervously.

There was also the fact that we weren't like most other people. We were criminals. It was dangerous to be with us, but at the same time, going back to his family was boring.

"But at the same time?" I prodded gently, wanting to hear the rest of his thoughts.

He glanced up at me, those large hazel eyes filled with uncertainty. "At the same time, I find myself craving it. This sense of belonging, of acceptance—it's something I've never experienced before. And yes, okay, maybe I'm drawn to you. To what I know you can make me feel. But more than anything, I'm terrified of losing this feeling of connection. Of being truly seen by someone for the first time in my life."

As he spoke, I felt the truth resonating within me. I knew that if given the chance, we could build something incredible together.

"That fear—that feeling of being seen—is valid," I assured him, my thumb tracing circles on his shoulder. "But know this: you will always be seen here. You will always matter. And as for the nudity, the openness... Well, that might take some getting used to, but I promise you, once you embrace it, you'll find a freedom unlike anything else."

He looked up at me, hope shining brightly in his eyes. "Do you really believe that?"

"I do," I replied firmly. "And I also believe that you deserve a second chance—a chance to create a new life for yourself, surrounded by love, support, and acceptance. A life where you can be truly free to be who you are, without fear or shame."

He searched my gaze, looking for any sign of deception. Finding none, he nodded slowly, his decision made.

"You're right," he whispered, his voice steady now. He looked calmer. "This is where I belong. With you. With the Nightshade Pack."

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