Page 44 of Pack Owned
“This game is pretty intense,” I say after we defeat another monster horde. “I didn’t expect to get so into it.”
Liam chuckles. “That’s the magic of catacombs. It sucks you in.” He leans back on the bed, studying me with an impressed look. “You’re a natural, though. Figured out the controls faster than anyone I’ve played with.”
I feel my cheeks warm at the compliment. “I have a good teacher.”
He flashes me a crooked grin. “Sorry if I got a little too excited earlier and scared you with that shout. I can get carried away sometimes when I’m playing.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just... on edge with everything going on.” And not knowing exactly what’s going to happen to me.
“Seems like it’s more than that.” He pauses the game, the screen frozen on our characters. “You can tell me.”
Could I? I hesitate, chewing on my bottom lip and staring down at my hands. His kindness seems genuine, but can I really trust him?
“How about I go first?” He saves the game and turns it off, facing me. “My mom was an alcoholic and not a good one, either.She was mean, throwing things, screaming, never knew what was going to set her off.” He pulls back his blond hair off his forehead. “See this? Twelve stitches when she sliced me with a broken beer bottle.”
I gasp at the jagged scar across his hairline that disappears deeper into his scalp.
He hikes up his sleeve to show me his shoulder and the edge of his back. “The one on my shoulder is from her putting her cigarette out on me when I was three or four, I think. Ones on my back are from when she kicked me and all her bottles of booze broke on the tile floor underneath me.”
Tears well up in my eyes as I imagine his pain and fear. How could anyone do that to their own child?
I want to reach out and hug him tight, take away all that hurt he’s still carrying around, but I freeze up. His confession hangs thick in the air, pushing down on my chest. It’s a damn wrecking ball smashing through the walls I’ve built up around my heart, leaving my emotions exposed and threatening to spill out in an unstoppable flood. My throat constricts, the words I want to say trapped behind this tightness that could shatter into a sob at any freaking second.
No words seem enough to wrap my head around how fucked up his childhood was.
“Liam,” I manage to squeeze out. “I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs. “Every time, she was sorry afterward but never changed. Eventually, she drank herself into her grave.” Liam pauses, letting the weight of his messed-up past hang heavy in the air between us.
A part of me knows I should return the favor, be just as honest with him as he’s been with me. He’s been nothing but solid since we met, him and Dane both. No sleazy moves or anything, which has me wondering... Is it my guarded nature they’re picking up on?
Or probably that I’m not shimmying up next to him because all three of them are handsome as fuck, and Betas would be all over them.
Again, I chew on my lip, torn. He just laid himself bare for me. Shouldn’t I offer him the same vulnerability? Even the thought of digging up that buried trauma makes my stomach do a nasty tango. The mere prospect of facing those horrors sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling in.
His hand reaches over, warm and gentle, and it feels like a goddamn lifeline thrown to a drowning girl. I clutch it like it’s the only thing keeping me afloat. His thumb starts tracing soothing circles across my knuckles, a silent promise that he’s not going anywhere.
I steal a glance at him, bracing myself for the pity party in his gaze. Instead, it’s like he really gets it, really understands on a soul-deep level.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice a low, raspy rumble that sends sparks ricocheting down my spine and burrowing straight into my core. “You don’t have to share anything you’re not ready for.” There’s no judgment in his words, just pure reassurance.
Suddenly, the dam inside me cracks. Grief surges forward, and I blink back the sting of tears threatening to spill over.
“It’s just... hard, you know?” The words tumble out in a choked sob. “Talking about it, reliving it… it feels like being skinned alive. Like someone ripped open the deepest, most fucking painful part of me and left it exposed for the whole world to gawk at.”
Instead of bombarding me with questions and demanding answers, he just waits, listening, letting me do this on my own. His hand over mine has my heart beating faster, but not in fear or revulsion like I would normally would. When I search his eyes, I only find warmth and compassion reflected there. Astrange sense of safety washes over me. Maybe I can open up, just a crack.
I heave out a breath that feels like I’ve replaced air with glass shards.
“My stepdad. He-He…”
Seeing the muscle in Liam’s jaw twitch, I quickly pull my hand away from his, unable to meet his gaze.I’ve never unbottled this before, always too mortified, too afraid to let the truth tumble out. But now, it’s all rising up, clawing at my insides, desperate to escape the chamber where I’ve kept it locked away for so long.
“He hurt you?” he asks, and I can feel the barely contained rage. “Want me to pay him a visit?”
The thought, tempting as it is, sends a fresh wave of nausea crashing over me.I shake my head, the movement jerky and small.My throat tightens so hard it hurts, constricting like a vise.
“He-He didn’t actually… do anything…” The words come out in strangled gasps, each one a tiny betrayal.Shame, hot and suffocating, burns crimson across my cheeks and down my neck. “He tried to… I fought him and…”
