Page 17 of Ruin Me Knot
She needs time she doesn’t have.
We need time she doesn’t have.
We’ve handled Omegas fresh out of trafficking rings, ones who flinched at shadows. I’ve seen the aftermath of black-site interrogations, the way the body remembers what the mind tries to forget.
This isn’t just trauma. She’s been rewired.
Every instinct in me screams to fix it, but combat taught me that when someone’s been broken systematically, you can’t rush them to change. You don’t crowd. You sure as hell don’t force.
But her heat doesn’t give a damn about patience.
Gabriel gets to his feet, drops the cushion he’s holding on the mattress, and looks at the closed bathroom door, thoughtful. "She bolted with a couch cushion."
Jax crosses his arms, making his biceps bulge and strain the material of his t-shirt. "If she took the cushion, it’s because she doesn’t have trauma attached to stuff like that. Traditional nesting materials were used against her, but the couch cushion might be the one comfort that didn’t come with punishment."
Probably because there were no couches or throw pillows in the hell she escaped. Still, it’s something we can work with.
"She’ll still need something to help her. Anything," Gabriel says, the edge of panic in his voice matching what I feel in my own chest. The urge to provide for Leah is a physical ache that wants to trample all sense, if I let it.
I scrub a hand through my hair, "She will. So, we stop pushing anything that looks or feels like what she had in that place. No mattresses, no special Omega bedding, nothing that might trigger her trauma." She’s had plenty of trauma. Too much handed to her from too many people.
Jax’s eyes clear, sharp with resolve. "Right then. We get couch cushions, throw rugs, towels. Anything soft that doesn’t look like traditional nesting material."
Gabriel is already halfway to the door, keys in hand. "I’ll hit the stores, grab whatever looks harmless, and stock some food. What do you think she’d like?" He shakes his head. "Never mind. She won’t know. I’ll get everything she might want and more. You two hold the fort while I get what our Omega needs."
"Don’t be long," I warn.
His grin is quick but worried. "Nothing can keep me away."
As the door clicks shut, Jax and I look at each other, knowing this is a different type of war.
Time is our enemy, and our Omega is on the line.
Chapter Nine
Leah
Istumble into the bathroom and slam the door shut behind me. My fingers brush over a lock and I gasp. An actual lock. Privacy. I twist it hard, stumbling back as though the door might bite me. I clutch the flimsy couch cushion to my chest as though the fabric could shield me from anything.
Stupid fucking Omega instincts.
My body shakes. Sweat slicks my palms and soaks the collar of the t-shirt I wear. I can’t believe I shouted at three Alphas who could have pinned me down with a simple flex of a bicep if they’d wanted.
But they didn’t. They didn’t threaten me.Didn’t bark.
I don’t have words for the mess of relief and confusion flooding my senses. The fever is growing stronger, threatening to consume me. Every inch of my skin stretches tight. Arousal spirals through me in sickening waves. I need to cool down fast, or the fever in my blood will drag me under completely.
I’ll be screaming out for cocks and knots and everything that will bond me to the Alphas out there.
My gaze lands on the bathtub. Clean, white, shining.It’s been so long… All I’ve had for years is a bucket and rag every week to scrub off grime as best I could. This is luxury I’d forgotten existed.
I jam the stopper into the drain, crank the cold as far as it’ll go and climb in without waiting for the tub to fill. The first splash of water is a shock, biting cold that makes me gasp, but I’ll take anything that might help bank the fever burning me alive.
I reach for the hem of my t-shirt to strip it off, but my fingers freeze. It smells likehim. Smoked vanilla that makesmy mouth water. I’m so, so tired of fighting. I let the water fill around me, still wearing his t-shirt and clutching the cushion.
I know what I look like. Pathetic. Crouched in freezing water and clutching a stupid couch cushion like it’s a life raft. I'm not a child. I know every reason for why I'm like this. Years of Haven. Of Hardwick at the facility. Lessons drilled into me by Hugo and Lars. Punishments that live under my skin. Scars woven into my being.
Knowing doesn’t mean I can stop.
