Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Callisto

There were many times in her life when three days felt like a week, but Callisto hadn't known seventy-two hours so full of tension since she was a kid in foster care. She'd learned young how to watch her back, but she'd never been the target of so much vitriol.

Good luck finding my brother and sister here and making them like me now.

No one in the clan was willing to get within a hundred feet of her and Sophia. They'd gone out a few times during the day and of course they were looked on with the utmost suspicion.

Dinners were a horrible thing. Her new mate either didn't care that she was a vegetarian, or he thought that cooking huge amounts of disgusting meat and putting it on the table late in the day after he'd closed up his horrendous shop and come upstairs stinking like blood and dead animals, would still be okay if he compromised by also putting a salad and a bowl of waterlogged pasta in front of her.

Waking up on her fourth morning in Greenacre, she was starting to question the wisdom of being there. Surely there had to be an easier way to get at Pinefall than the hell she was currently living in.

She woke Sophia with a gentle shake to her shoulder and they dressed in silence.

They left the bedroom—their one sanctuary—and ventured into the silence of the apartment above the shop.

Rory left early in the morning, always around six and worked until after six. His son left around seven-thirty and didn't get back until after four. If she'd anticipated her misfortune in having to know them, she would have had Raven do special reconnaissance on them too. As it was, she had to snoop around and pick out little bits of information here and there.

They were both starving, and Sophia tackled the fridge, finding a few things that didn't begin with an m and end with a t and weren't sandwiched with the word eat, which was exactly what she would never do to meat again.

"Are you thinking about quitting and going back home?" Sophia knew her better than anyone. She easily read into Callisto's mood as she violently scrambled some eggs on the stove.

She shook her head.

"I thought not. We've been through hard shit before. This means more to you than almost anything. You wouldn't pack it in so easily."

That didn't need a response and Sophia kept beating the eggs.

"You know that Rory isn't responsible for what happened to you. He obviously has to do what his alpha says."

She wanted to say, not here, because obviously people here could say no if they chose. They could question their alpha, but she took Sophia's meaning. Maybe others in Pinefall hadn't had the luxury. Other clans and packs weren't like this place. She made it a point in her own clan to never abuse her position as a leader and always to make sure every process was as diplomatic as it could be. She never wanted a single person living with her to be hurt by her or hurt by life any more than they already had been.

She was the exception. Samuel was an ultra-exception.

Samuel was raised in Greenacre. He'd had the kind of life most shifters in a clan or pack setting had. He hadn't had to fight like she had for basic survival. He hadn't known hunger or torture. He hadn't been mistreated or beaten, starved, locked away, or forgotten. He'd never been rejected or unwanted. He'd never known what it was like to not have a voice. Literally. It was easy to see why she'd fight for people who had been abused just like her. Fight for their freedom and for them to find healing and peace, but Samuel? What made him so good? What made him kind and caring and devoted to his clan? What made him so full of mercy?

"There's no reason for you to despise him." Sophia poured her frustration into the eggs, then poured them into a frying pan she'd preheated. "I know you were hurt, and you want revenge and I'm not going to tell you that you don't have a right to it, but Rory took in two babies who needed a home. He's not turning infants out into the cold or leaving them to die. He's doing the opposite. Everyone here seems to be. Now that we're here, it's not a ruse or a game. It's not some big coverup. I don't think that anyone knows what's happening in Pinefall, or what used to happen. Greenacre had nothing to do with Pinefall before they moved here. They might have stopped the barbaric practices long ago and either way, they've obviously kept it a secret."

There was no doubt that if it was a matter of sides, Sophia was on hers. All the things Callisto had lived through—Sophia was right there living it and worse. They just weren't built the same. Despite the horrible treatment, despite being given up at birth, Sophia was hopelessly sweet. She was still a dreamer. She still tried to see the best in people. Even monsters weren't beyond redemption for her. She was small and shy, and she didn't have the added protection of being a shifter because she wasn't, but despite it all, she had a golden heart and an unbreakable spirit.

She put the eggs onto two plain white plates with scratch marks marring the surfaces and brought them to the table. She added two glasses of orange juice and sat down across from Sophia.

I don't hate him because he's here or even because he's a butcher, she signed. I know not all shifters and not all clans are the same just like there are good people out there. Maybe you're right about Greenacre not knowing. At any rate, I swore an oath to Samuel and this place and I'm going to keep my word, no matter how much everyone here would like to drive us over.

"Come on now. That's harsh. They have every right to be suspicious."

Maybe that's too much, but no one wants us around. They're guarding their kids from us. The whole ceremony was a sham. This mating is a sham. I don't have to like that one bit. Their alpha and his mate are so goggle eyed for each other and love in general that they think real romance can bloom but thrusting two people together who have nothing in common.

"You're shifters. At least you have that in common."

I was raised with humans. I've only allowed myself to truly be a shifter after we got the place in Yellowstone, where it's private and safe. I'm more of a person than anyone here will ever be.

"Tell that to Lily, and—what were the others' names? I can't remember all of them. There were so many helping us get ready. Anyway, that's not the point."

What's the point then?

"I think that you're afraid that deep down, you only know how to break things, but that's not true. You built an amazing clan for us, human and shifter alike. You've gathered all of us broken people and you've tried to give us the resources to heal. You had the worst time of it, and then one stroke of luck. As much as you desire to hurt the ones who hurt you, you also want to heal what's wrong and painful in the world. You've used that money for just as much good as you have—well… for your other mission."

Sophia laid a hand on hers before she could start to respond. She stared at her with her huge, soft eyes.

She didn't yank her hand away, just moved it gently and started to sign. You know that I can't let it go. You know that all that hate is just festering inside of me. You know that I can't let it be a weakness, so I've turned it into a weapon. I'm not afraid of myself or the things that happened. I'm not afraid to feel anything, even the bad. I'm the kind of person that embraces weakness so it can be transformed into something else. I try to be good and kind, but you're right. I also have that other part of me that wants to tear down the world and set it on fire just so I can piss on the ashes.

"Not the whole world."

Just Pinefall.

Sophia's lips twitched. She appreciated sayings like ‘piss on the ashes.' "Maybe Rory has had some hurt in his life. He has a teenage son. Where is his mate? What happened to her? Maybe he's been hurt too."

He looks like he's well entrenched here and doing just fine. Hurt or not, his kid is nearly an adult. He's had a lot of time to get over it.

"And you were given up at birth. Anyone might say the same. I'm just saying." Sophia held up her hands in a peaceful gesture. Callisto would never let anyone talk to her the way Sophia did. It wasn't getting away with it. It was the brutal honesty of someone she loved and trusted. Someone who had been to the gates of hell and all through whatever other underworlds might exist. No one else could talk to her with such brutal honesty because not another soul in the world knew the things that Sophia did.

She was struggling to find a response when the door opened to the staircase below. The signature scent of butcher shop wafted in, clinging to Rory's clothes as he stepped in. Callisto shut her mouth and tried not to breathe so she wouldn't gag. She'd only cooked two eggs and had barely touched them and now she was put right off her breakfast. She didn't believe in waste, so she'd put them in the fridge and try again later, when the air was no longer perfumed by death.

Be nice, Sophia quickly signed, before ducking her head and picking at her eggs. They were just about as untouched as Callisto's.

Rory shut the door and whipped out a bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back. It was huge, filled with bright purple, pink, orange, yellow, and white blooms. Bown eyed Susans, daisies, baby's breath, and other flowers Callisto didn't recognize.

She could practically hear Sophia's inner sigh of awwwwww as she looked up and took them in.

God. She didn't do sweetness. She could be a real ray of sunshine, but right now, she wasn't fucking worried about playing nice. She wasn't going to go through the whole fake mates act unless anyone was watching and it was pretty clear that no matter what she did, she was always going to be a pariah.

She slowly stood up, but faced Sophia. Tell him that the flowers are ugly and from his bloodied hands, they're even worse.

I'm not going to say mean things to him. He seems like he's a good man. Sophia protested right back, hands moving just a few inches over her plate.

He's literally a butcher.

Yes, and you still agreed to mate him. Whatever the endgame, he doesn't deserve to be hurt. Besides, meat isn't the enemy. It was how we grew up and our foster parents, the whole system that was to blame.

Ugh. The hopeless romantic in Sophia was sometimes so annoying that Callisto wanted to find something to put her fist through. In human form, that didn't often work out well, so she did other things with her anger, like internal counting, but still. The frustration was real.

Tell him I don't want them, Callisto insisted. She hated that Sophia was right about the meat thing, but still. She couldn't even stand the smell of it after getting sick all those times.

Sophia raised her head and took in Rory, who actually blushed when she walked over and took the damn bouquet. "Callisto says thank you for the flowers. They're lovely. Do you have a vase?"

Traitor.

"I don't think that's what she said," Rory protested again.

How fucking astute. Callisto glared at her mate and then shifted that dirty look to Sophia, but she ignored her. There was apparently no vase, but she found a large glass mason jar. She filled it halfway with water and arranged the stems inside before setting it on the long countertop in front of the old row of plywood cabinets.

The interior of the place was quite sparse. No paintings, no art, no photos. It was quite cheerless and hadn't seen any renovations in a long while. Not that it mattered to Callisto because it certainly didn't. She could handle plain, and she could handle old, as long as it was clean, and she grudgingly admitted it was. Whatever she found that needed a scrub, she'd set to on the first day and now the old place practically glistened.

Rory wasn't a messy person. Fraiser kept the door to his room closed and she'd never gone in there, but Rory's blankets and pillows were always placed neatly back in the linen closet in the hallway before he left in the morning and he'd noticed her efforts that first day, commenting on how fresh and bright everything smelled and looked.

"I was thinking…" Rory said, walking over to the kitchen. He'd clearly scrubbed up downstairs and his black t-shirt and faded jeans were clean enough, but still. Old blood scent and all that.

How novel, she signed, but Sophia ignored her again.

"I know Fraiser and I haven't been around. He's at school during the day and he has friends to see after. I've been busy with clan stuff in the evening after work. We're quite social. But it must be lonely for you. I've been doing a piss poor job of thinking about your feelings. You're not a prisoner, but I know that most people still aren't overly friendly. It's a big change for you. Whether you were honest or not about your reasons for being here, you're never going to feel welcome if I don't make an effort to help you get to know Greenacre, and the people here."

Good god, Sophia, tell him he stinks.

"That's very kind of you," Sophia said instead, wrinkling her nose at Callisto. "It hasn't been a friendly welcome though it's understandable. We're not lonely, just maybe bored. We're used to hard work and being useful. Sitting here all day is difficult. I know we could go out, but we do get a lot of hostile stares. No one wants us here. And those are my thoughts," she quickly clarified. "But Callisto shares some of them as well."

"I'd like to bring the twins home tonight. I've been seeing them in the morning and evening, but I miss them."

Despite herself, Callisto felt her body soften.

"Also, showing that I trust you will go a long way. They go to nursery classes at the school during the day, but if you'd come with me to drop them off, I could start to introduce you to families here. Meeting others who have children is a good way to find common ground."

Callisto had no desire to have her own children, but she loved kids. Maybe it wasn't odd, given how she'd grown up, that she never wanted her own offspring. Being a part of the system for eighteen years proved to her just how many children there were in need of good homes and love. Her protective and nurturing instincts were strong, even if she'd never seen herself having a conventional white picket type of family.

"That would be amazing," Sophia said, a little too gushy. "Callisto loves kids. I do too. That would mean a lot, you trusting us with your girls."

Rory lifted a shoulder like it was no big deal, reddening again. "I'll try and make an effort to make proper dinners that you'd like to eat, and I'll shower right after getting off work and throw my clothes straight in the laundry, seeing as it's offensive to you."

What was wrong with her that every bit of her wanted to respond with something waspish and sharp? She normally didn't hold the world accountable for what happened to her. There was a short list of people who were responsible, and she'd vowed that they'd be given pain in equal amounts to what they'd handed out. Some of those people were already dead. Not by her hand, but she certainly wasn't sorry to hear about their passing. Nothing about Rory was unkind. He wasn't in the way. He wastheway. Through him, she could find her brother and sister and connect with them. If not for him, then it might be months before the people of Greenacre trusted her—if they ever could—and that was absolutely counterproductive.

Still. Her hands felt like wood when she signed to Sophia. Thank you. I appreciate your efforts.

Sophia signed back immediately. Maybe you should tell him why you refuse to eat meat. He doesn't understand. Not that he thinks it's stupid because he's clearly not one of those people, but if he knew—

Absolutely not! Her hands became violent slashes through the air.

Sophia cleared her throat. "That's very kind and considerate of you, Rory. We're really looking forward to meeting your twins and to getting to know other people and to fitting in here. It's a hard adjustment and I'm sorry if we don't seem grateful."

Rory tried to shrug and fumbled with his hands. He couldn't look at either of them and oddly, it was that atrocious shyness and awkwardness that Callisto found a little bit endearing.

Most people who had lived through what she'd endured would find large, rough, not so gentle men incredibly intimidating, but she didn't. She liked men to be unapologetically masculine. She'd never had a desire for something stupid like romance or a boyfriend, and certainly not a mate or a husband. Gentle touches, mush, sugar, sweetness, sentimentality—all of that she found a few shades shy of revolting. She liked brief, rough, mutually sweaty and pleasureful encounters and she liked to disappear after. She'd had few in her life because sex to her was something animalistic, an instinct that grew too sharp an overwhelming unless it was sated.

It astounded her that watching Rory blush and stammer and clutch his hands like an awkward teenager, thinking of ways to try and help and please her, bringing those darned flowers, warmed some small spot inside of her.

"Thank you again for the flowers, Rory. Truly." Sophia needed to get the mush level under control, fucking stat.

It was better to be cold and dead where enemies were concerned, and whatever Sophia thought and said, Rory was still part of that class.

I still don't like you, Callisto signed, but with a smile, which Rory carefully studied, but a wobble of his lips told her that he didn't know the difference. She'd also been right about that dimple. A tiny little divot appeared in his right cheek when his lips twitched in that direction.

God help her if he ever took up ASL and found himself to be a quick study.