Page 93 of Ruin Me Knot
Skylar mouths my name. It’s barely a sound. Nothing more than the shape of it on trembling lips, a ghost escaping the tight press of her mouth. Her eyeswiden as she reaches for me, then draws back, doubt flickering through every line of her body. Hope and pleading skitter across her features, only to be trampled by shame. She shutters down, chin tucking to her chest like she wishes she could disappear.
A choked whisper escapes her. "Leah. I’m so sorry, Gods, I’m so—"
Before shame can crush her, I break from Gabriel’s hold and reach for her. My arms wrap around her. She stiffens for a breathless second, then collapses into me, shaking so hard it rattles through my bones. Her arms band around my shoulders, fierce and clinging. We both sob, raw and ugly, shaking and clutching each other tight.
"I’m sorry too," I gasp, voice shredded. "I don’t blame you, Skylar. None of this shame is yours to carry."
We hold each other in the doorway, wounds between us no longer secrets but shared pain acknowledged. Eventually we pull apart, the ache between us settling into a fragile, echoing hush. Skylar’s eyes are rimmed red, her cheeks blotched. She looks beyond wrecked. She’s hollowed out, a survivor barely held together by willpower and regret.
"I’m glad you survived. So many didn’t." The words hang heavy, thick with the weight of all the deaths she’s seen and couldn’t stop. Her scars are invisible, but they run as deep as mine.
She wipes her face, gaze flicking away from me. She collects herself, seeming to notice the others around me for the first time. She lifts her chin and draws around her the brittle armor of someone who’s learned to survive being seen.
"Skylar, can we talk? Our Alphas are searching for Hardwick. We’re hoping you might remember something, anything, that could help." Mira’s voice is soft.
Skylar nods, the motion jerky. "Of course. But I’ve already told Asher everything I can remember. Every address Hardwick ever mentioned. Every contact she ever met." She glances at me, guilt flickering again. "But if there’s something I missed. Some overlap, something you might recognize, put together in a different way…"
"There might be." I try to offer some of the steadiness Gabriel gives me, even as my gut turns over. "Maybe there’s something you forgot that I remember given… everything."
Skylar works to steady her shaking hands. "I’ll do whatever you need. Just, do you mind if we go to the dining area? My roommate isn’t doing well today, and Alpha scents might set her back." Her gaze flicks to the men. "I’m sorry. Dr. Maverick says it’s best to keep her as calm as possible. I know you mean no harm, but her nervous system doesn’t understand."
"There’s nothing to apologize for, Skylar. We’d never want to cause harm here. Hot chocolate and dessert are probably being served in the dining area about now anyway," Soren says.
Skylar gives him a grateful, cautious smile, then leads us down the hall after quietly closing the door.
The dining area soothes me immediately. Soft earth tones, vanilla and bread-scented air, low lighting that warms every corner. Textured couches and heavy chairs are upholstered in tactile fabrics, safe places to relax in, and round tables where Omegas murmur quietly, their voices blending into a peaceful hush.
When our Alphas file in behind us, tension flickers briefly before relief softens every face.
I nudge Mira and whisper, "You’re a miracle, you know that? Setting all this up for them. For us."
Mira’s eyes shine. "My Alphas fund it through Pinnacle, and we’ve received several donations from prominent packs around the country. There are more Alphas out there who are horrified by what Hardwick did. My Alphas always wanted to help Omegas, but until recently, their hands were tied. This is just the first step, Leah. First we heal the trauma, then we heal society."
In the far corner, Alphas form a protective barrier around a fragile male Omega. He’s a tangle of sharp bones and trembling skin, hunched small and closed off as he rocks with a desperate rhythm. His hands fist in the hem of his shirt, knuckles white, as one of the Alphas holds him close to his neck and purrs.
"Aubrey?" He was catatonic at the gala, and weeks later he’s no better.
"The Alphas are his scent-matches,” Zane says. “At least one stays with him every day. We hope they can help him heal."
I look up at the big Alpha. "Is it working?"
Zane’s hollow look is my answer.
"Kevin Dawson is his prime. He’s a good Alpha. He helped us when we needed it. Aubrey means everything to them. If anyone can pull Aubrey out of his trauma, it’s them," Soren says.
"I hope you’re right," I whisper. Aubrey’s eyes are vacant, his lips moving with silent words. Whatever he’s been through is etched into his soul. My heart splinters for him, sorrow and rage so visceral I can barely breathe. No one should be left like this. No one. Not after everything we survived. "What is he saying?"
Skylar leads us to an empty table. "Numbers. 1465 was for his Alpha, Axel Turns. 1037 is Hardwick, may the devil destroy her soul."
"He whispers other numbers too." Soren doesn’t hide the frustration in his voice. "We have a whole department researching every number he’s mentioned, but nothing has turned into leads."
We settle beside the windows, a tray of untouched desserts sitting between us, the sugar doing nothing to settle my nerves. Skylar sits across from me, shoulders hunched, hands wrapped tight around a mug she isn’t drinking from.
Gabriel leans forward. "Skylar, is there anything else you remember about Hardwick’s movements? Any place she might run to. Old safehouses, labs, contacts, anything you haven’t already mentioned?”
Skylar makes a frustrated sound. "She never trusted anyone, not even me. When she moved me between places, I was blindfolded. Sometimes she barked me unconscious, so I didn’t know which way we’d gone or how long we’d taken to get to our destination or back home again. She took no chances. No one saw anything unless she wanted them to."
"But you think there were different locations?" Gabriel asks.
