Page 81 of Shattered Souls
I’m failing to untangle myself from Logan’s octopus arms when Royce and Grayson walk in, expressions carefully blank. Too blank. It immediately has my shoulders bunching and my earlier headache reappearing with a vengeance.
Royce comes straight to my side, crouching on the mattress as he reaches for me. “How are you feeling?”
My eyes search his.
“She’s still got a headache, but she ate and drank and has been resting,” Logan fills him in, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he sits up. The sheet falls to his waist, exposing his chest, and my gaze lingers momentarily on those hard planes before I glance away, watching as Grayson collapses into a chair. His knuckles are split and raw-looking, and my attention snaps back to Royce, noticing his are the same. “What happened?” I demand.
He sighs this long, weary sound that tells me nothing good. My heart sinks.
Grayson emits an equally exhausted groan, swiping a hand down his face, but not before I notice the dark bags under his eyes, despite the still prominent bruising from his stupid fight with Dax.
“I think we need coffee for this conversation,” Logan groans, climbing out from beneath the sheets.
“And you need more clothes.” My gaze snaps to Grayson, finding him staring at the exposed skin of my shoulder, where the oversized T-shirt I’m wearing has fallen, with a feral sort of possession that liquifies my insides.
I shift, catching a whiff of myself. “What I need is a shower.” And a moment to prepare.
“Go shower, Ry. Take as long as you need.” Royce helps me to my feet, and feeling Grayson’s heated stare on my bare legs, Ipull down the hem of my T-shirt before Royce escorts me from the room.
In the shower, the hot water cascades over my skin, a temporary balm to my frayed nerves. Bertram has my daughter. It’s a terrifying sentence I never thought I’d hear. What is he doing with her? Where is he keeping her? They are questions I barely dare to ask myself.
Hands trembling, I force my eyes closed and let the steam envelop me. Flashes of another life… no, a dream, play out behind my eyelids.
Aurora’s laughter.
Royce’s smile.
Logan’s light.
The love in Grayson’s eyes when he looked at my daughter… and when he looked at me.
My heart clenches, and a sob rips from my throat. I can feel it, right there, at the tips of my fingers. It’s practically within reach, yet every time I grab for it, it slinks away. How can everything I ever wanted but never thought I’d find be so close yet so far? When I gave birth to Aurora, my life became all about her. Every breath. Every thought. Everything I did was for her. I never thought I’d find a man who would wantus. Figured, I’d wait until she was grown, finishing high school, if not in college, before I considered a serious relationship with anyone.
Yet somehow, I’ve found not one butthreemen who accept us, who accept my little girl without even having met her.
I feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
And the unluckiest.
How much more can I take? How many more blows before I shatter completely? I’ve been barely holding on, clinging to the hope that we’ll find Aurora and that everything will be okay. But with each piece of bad news, that hope feels more like a delusion.This final one… knowing Bertram not only knows of Aurora’s existence but that hehasher… I fear that it will be my undoing.
My body shakes with silent sobs, the sound of the water masking my despair.
Leaning against the cool tile, I allow myself to feel the fear that I’ve been holding at bay. It surges up, a tidal wave of anxiety and exhaustion that threatens to drown me.
Closing my eyes, I think of Aurora, her sweet face, and the way she laughs, and a fresh wave of fear grips my heart. I must be strong for her, but what if I can’t? What if this is the hit that sends me over the edge? My mind spins with the what-ifs, the terrifying possibilities that keep me awake at night.
Hidden from the rest of the world, the sound of my openly bleeding wounds masked by the rushing of water, I allow myself this moment of weakness, these precious few minutes where I can break down and feel every ounce of my fear and pain. Then, slowly, I start to pull myself back together. I take a deep breath, feeling the steam fill my lungs, and I force myself to stand tall. I can’t give in to despair. This life willnotbeat me down. Bertramwill notdestroy me.
Aurora needs me, and for her, I’ll be strong.
The water washes away my tears, and with them, some of my fear. I start to rebuild my walls, brick by brick, fortifying myself against the onslaught of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. I can do this. Ihaveto do this.
I turn off the shower and open the steamed-up door. Royce stands there with a towel already in his hands.
“Wanted to check on you,” he says at my look of surprise. I hadn’t even heard him come in. His gaze drops to my thighs, shadows swimming in his eyes, and I realize he was worried I would do something stupid like I did when I found out about Bertram’s release.
I step into the open towel and continue until I’m pressed against him, my cheek resting against the hard lines of his muscles. “That was a moment of terror-fueled stupidity,” I tell him. “I’m… I’m not okay. I’m so far from being okay, but I don’t want to hurt myself. I haven’t truly wanted to hurt myself for a long time. Since I found out I was pregnant with Aurora.” I shake my head. “It was a moment of weakness that I regret.”
