58. Chapter Fifty Seven

Chapter Fifty Seven

D espite the interval intrusion, I finish my showcase with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Wyatt doesn't return for act two, thankfully. Although, his scowl in the forefront of my mind fueled the fire to dance like I never have before. I danced in spite of him, committing to Nikko's lifts and holds with renewed vigor. Dancing is a relief, my escape, but the applause. The compliments. The offers that came streaming in from agents and professional dance schools. My chest fights against the weight of it, my head dizzy and my limbs tired yet buzzing with energy.

Could I do this for the rest of my life? End each night on a stage, bowing low with poised feet until the curtain falls. It's not a possibility I've considered, but I haven't had my own band of muscular cheerleaders to spur me on before. Six-foot tall, brazen cheerleaders who are parading me through campus like the most important person in their world.

Garrett has me up on his shoulder, Axel's hand banded around my ankle while he shoulders my bag. They refuse to let me walk, stating that my ballet-slippered feet are too precious to touch the ground. Dax returned at some point during the show's finale, and now he's trailing us beneath the streetlights, pretending he isn't tense. I haven't had the chance to ask where he went, and selfishly, I don't want to. Not tonight. Not while I'm riding this high. I deserve to enjoy it.

"Did you see my girl tonight?" Garrett is boasting to anyone nearby. Phones are raised, capturing photos which they'll no doubt try to sell to the press. I don't let it dampen the smile spread across my face as my butt jostles on Garrett's shoulder. "Did you see her?! She's incredible!"

"Are you finally claiming me then, Garrett?" I muse in a voice only meant for him. Peering up with glistening brown eyes, there's an earnest tilt to his smirk.

"Oh, Peach. It was never really a question of me claiming you , was it?" I stroke my fingers through his messy, dark hair. The flash of vulnerability is gone in a blink and I settle further into his hold, his hands on my thighs and long strides gently jostling.

Garrett will never see himself being worthy of affection, using his brazenness to keep people out, using excuses to push them away. But like Axel, I've realized that it's all words. Time will prove that we won't give up on him so easily. I mean, who else could take me dress shopping for another man, to a sex club with other men, to get an IUD fitted for other partners, and still look at me with those ‘ please don't discount me ' eyes? He's his own worst enemy.

Passing through the courtyard, Garrett sharply turns left. Away from the frat house's direction. Axel's hand falls away, both him and Dax falling into step at our back. The other students move away, having taken their photos. The lighting isn't paparazzi worthy as Garrett climbs the stone steps to a building I know all too well. The library. He produces a key from his pocket, unlocking the arched door and only once inside, permits me to slide down onto the floor.

"What are we doing here?" I ask while Axel grunts, "How did you get the key from Mrs. Russell?" Garrett declines to answer either of us. It's pitch black inside, but he knows exactly where to go.

"This way." He starts climbing the stairs and the three of us follow. By the third floor, my teeth are clamped together. Do you know what I really don't want to do after a two hour ballet recital - climb a million stairs. My hand on the railing drags me higher until we reach the very top level, somewhere I've yet to explore.

The floor opens up beneath a domed skylight. Stars twinkle through clear glass, casting a soft, celestial light over a tiled floor. A sleek, modern telescope stands nearby, a wooden table littered in star maps. Shelves lined with books curve along the walls, their titles gleaming. Chandeliers hang like constellations, illuminating cozy reading nooks created with beanbags. The air is filled with the scent of aged paper. Plush sofas are too inviting to deny. I drop down into the cushions, my head thrown back and limbs limp.

"How have I never been up here before?" I breathe, in awe of the night's sky. How many times have I walked the campus and been too wrapped up in my own thoughts to look up? How many times have I sat downstairs studying, believing my whole world consists of grades and frat house dynamics? Garrett drops down at my side, while Axel looks through the telescope and Dax paces, filled with nervous anxiety.

"Gare, I really think we should-"

"Not yet," Garrett mumbles. His face is upturned, bathed in the light of a half moon. The sharp lines of his face, jaw and Adam's apple catch amongst his dark hair and eyes. Beautiful. Lifting a hand, he vaguely gestures for Dax to stand still. "You clearly know something, which clearly isn't good and clearly is going to throw us another curveball."

"Stop saying the word clearly." I hear Dax's eye roll. Garrett smirks.

"Give us a moment to be still. To bask in Avery's success and each other's presence. Then it can all be fucked up."

Relenting, Dax walks over and lowers on my other side. His back is too straight to enjoy the stars, his hands fisted in his lap. I reach for him, half turning to drag him back into the cushions, my leg thrown over his thighs. My head slips onto his chest at an angle so that I can still star-gaze. After a beat, his arms find their way around me, his mouth resting on my head.

It must be eating him up inside, whatever he knows and doesn't want to say. I stroke his abdomen through his shirt, willing time to stand still. To keep the drama and the secrets and the camera flashes and the unknown threats at bay. Garrett takes the silent invitation to spoon my back, his face in my nape.

"So…" I swallow hard. "I think I'm ready to pitch why I have the necessary trauma to be considered for my own skull tattoo. I need to have suffered and overcome, right?"

Garrett's head lifts instantly. "You want to be a Shadowed Soul?"

Dax tenses beneath me as I nod. "I want to be someone to somebody. And…I'm scared that if I'm not in your gang, there's a higher chance I lose you all."

"That would never happen," Axel drops onto his knees by my legs. His hands on my thighs are as steady and sure as his hazel eyes. "No matter what." I bite my bottom lip. I hear what he's saying but still, it sometimes feels like it's them and me. Despite how far we've come and how much I trust them, there are always going to be these times when we're disjointed and secrets are not being said.

Dax uses a finger under my chin to tilt my head up and meet his gaze. "I'm afraid Wyatt decides who to bring into our fold. It's not something you apply for. His control, his choice." The finality of those words hits harder than I expected. I can screw these guys, dote on them, fall for them, but I will always be on the outside. Never fully accepted.

Garrett's arms tighten around my waist, his mouth at my ear. "You don't want to be one of us, Little Swan. We're fucked up."

"So am I," I whisper. I'm not going to argue. Curling into Dax's chest, I let my eyelids lower. Nothing has changed, only the sinking feeling in my chest.

Axel lightly lifts my leg from Dax and starts to untie my slipper. "You're too precious," he murmurs. His fingers brush my ankles with such care, gently massaging my feet when he's shed my compression sock. Then I'm being dressed, a pair of sweatpants tugged up my calves. My socks and sneakers eased on. "When we get home, I'll give you an ice bath and massage out all of your kinks."

Home . Shadowed Soul or not, I have a home.

Garrett chuckles against my back darkly. "Then I'll fuck out all of your kinks."

Dax doesn't comment, although his deep exhale causes my head to lift higher. Looking up, I cup his cheek and bring his blue eyes down to mine.

"Whatever it is, it's going to be okay." He doesn't look convinced, his full lips pursed. I decide then, there's no use holding this off any longer. It's only hurting Dax. Torment dances between his brows, so I draw him down for a quick kiss and then push upright. Axel stays kneeling when I stand, both shuffling the sweatpants up and the tutu down. He digs around my bag and stands, easing a hoodie over my head without touching my high bun and make-up.

I could say a thousand things in that moment, beneath the stars. Staring into his hazel eyes. I'm in awe of all of them, but Axel hits differently. His body has been tainted, used. His mind has been warped into thinking he's only good for one thing. I drift into his space, pressing my face against the steel firmness of his chest. His fingers trickle over my wrists, arms and shoulders. His touch dips into the hoodie's neckline to brush over the arrow tattoo on my upper back, which he used to cream and massage. I shiver, but I'm not cold. I'm enveloped in his warmth.

Dax's arm winds around my waist just in time, as I'm almost asleep on my feet. We leave our mini sanctuary, exiting the library and pausing for Garrett to lock up. Drifting down the steps, Dax tries to hurry me across the courtyard but it's useless. My legs are wooden, a yawn pulling at my mouth. The night is pitch black now, the half-moon hiding behind cloud cover. There's no one around, an eerie silence, which is why I flinch when a white SUV pulls up on the nearest road. Huxley dips his head through the open passenger window.

"Should you be driving?" I ask, thankful nonetheless. The drive is quick, much quicker than I would have been able to walk. I lean over Axel's lap, my feet tucked against Garrett on the backseat. In the front, nervous energy filters around the cab. Not even the radio is on. We enter the garage and I hear it before I've even entered the house. Wyatt is yelling. Or screaming may be a better choice of word. Something crashes, most likely caused by a rogue fist or kick.

I stop mid-stride, throwing my head back and drawing a grunt from Huxley as I hit his bad shoulder.

"Shit," I spin but he waves me off. Just like Dax, Huxley's brow is low and jaw tense. My temper simmers. "So, is this it? We had to rush back because Wyatt can't face his feelings like a big boy? "

"Come on. We need to talk." Huxley moves past me, holding the door wide for the rest of us. Garrett has a similar stance to mine, shoulders sagged as if to say, ‘I had to do something awful to get that library key, and I didn't even get a starlit blowjob for it.'

I nudge him, finding a small smirk for his eyes only. Huxley and Dax get a scowl to the back of the head for thinking I'd give a shit about Wyatt. His hissy fit at my showcase was uncalled for. Outrageous, in fact. He had the nerve to act jealous, after every emotional rollercoaster he's put me through. And once the dam had broken, he wanted it all. He asked me to kiss him, ordered me to bend over and let him fuck me. He would have taken everything if I'd let him, and then given me shit for it afterwards. He's already called me a slut tonight, but he was the one freaking out about a male ballet dancer's hands on my waist. A dancer who is flamboyantly gay, by the way.

I enter the house, my eyes glued to the pounding ceiling. Wyatt is having a full-on bitch fit. What a fucking hypocrite. In any other instance, Wyatt would have ruined my entire night. Locked me up, made sure I didn't continue with the show out of pure spite. I love dance and he hates me, why wouldn't he want to take that away? But what was different about tonight is anyone's guess.

Axel places my bag on the kitchen island and I stifle another yawn. I reckon I could head straight upstairs and fall asleep through the banging and crashing. However, Huxley and Dax are by the dining table, standing beside the chair at the head, already pulled out. On the mahogany wood in front of it lies my mother's diary. My face hardens as soon as I see it while Huxley crosses his arms defensively. So it's not just palming my pussy that Wyatt is furious over.

"How much did you tell him?" I jut out my chin. Huxley mimics the action.

"Everything."

"Why?!" My mouth drops open. Maybe there are facts Wyatt should have known sooner, but everything ? These are my mom's memories, her secrets to tell or take to her grave. They're not in a gossip column for Huxley to pass around. Keeping my eye contact, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a crumpled envelope.

"Because this was posted through the letterbox at exactly seven o'clock. I suspect he thought we would all be at your showcase." Prickles encase my nape, goosebumps line my arms. He . A single person.

"Huxley," I state firmly. "You didn't interact with this person, did you?" He half shrugs, unable to hide his wince of pain.

"I didn't get the chance. I chased him south off campus, but I'm not as fit as I usually am. My lack of stamina caught up with me. "

"What the fuck, Hux?" Axel gasps, slapping his hands on his thighs. I share the sentiment.

"What the hell were you thinking?! You were shot last time, and we wouldn't have known for hours!" I'm furious, discarding the envelope still held in his hand. Closing the space between us, I raise my hand to hit his tender shoulder and stop myself at the last moment, balling my fingers into a fist. "Don't do that again." His chocolate brown stare is steady, not in the least bit regretful. He'd do it again in an instant. I glower at him, at everyone.

"I'm serious. That goes for all of you. If you start putting my safety above your own and I have to spend all of my time worrying if someone in this room has done something stupid, I'm gone. I will walk away." There's a pause and a mixture of expressions in response, ranging from worry to ‘ No, you won't. ' I double down, but my voice is smaller. My head lowered. "I don't deal with loss well. Don't force me to protect myself like that."

None of them say anything, the air thick with unspoken words. It's too late. They already do value my safety above theirs. Another crash sounds from upstairs, this one juddering the entire house. A hundred bucks says Wyatt's been drinking straight whiskey since he got back.

"Give me the letter," I hold my hand out, sighing. There's no patience left for pleasantries. Huxley gingerly places it into my hand, while Dax scrapes the chair back further. AKA, you'll want to sit down for this.

Exhaling loudly, I take the seat. Four men drop into the chairs closest, Axel and Garrett leaning forward to see the pages I'm unfolding. I recognize them immediately. The yellow tinge to the paper, the faintly printed lines, the handwriting in purple pen and large flourishes. The missing pages from mom's diary. My heart stutters to a halt, my body forgetting how to function.

This is what she, or someone, was trying to keep hidden. The entry is short, written in a rush. An excited flurry. She's been for her first scan. Nixon was by her side, holding her hand when they were delivered the news. Twins . She couldn't be happier, Nixon is overjoyed. Imagine two sets of feet running around the manor, double birthday parties, the bestest of friends who will never have to walk a day alone. Her heart is so full of love, she might just burst.

"It's not…I don't get…it doesn't mean," I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. "We don't know if this is true. It could be fake, forged." It's one hell of a good forgery if so, even through my tear-filled eyes. The handwriting is identical. "I don't understand what you're showing me." Huxley reaches for the envelope and shakes out the rest of the contents. Two tiny hospital bands with the date and timestamp. Both labeled as Baby Hughes .

"Okay. So…Wyatt had a twin. Weird but I mean, there's been no mention of it before. There were no pictures in the manor or hint that there was anyone else. Maybe they didn't survive. Either way…I just…why are you looking at me like that?!" I glare at Garrett. Whatever conclusion he's come to, I instantly dismissed when I saw the bracelets. It's Dax's turn to reach across and flip over the diary page in my hand. A list of baby names, all girls, only one circled. Avery .

No. No, no. Not happening.

"This is ridiculous. I don't get what you're implying," I toss down the pages. This is a joke. A stupid joke probably orchestrated by Wyatt to push me away again. He hates that I got close enough to see his armor crack. But then why is he flipping out upstairs?

"I think you know exactly what we're implying," Huxley sighs heavily. "Avery, before you were adopted by the Hughes', had you ever met your mother?"

"She had an affair with Fredrick Walters," Dax continues. "We know he's your biological father. And we know he fathered these twins."

Whatever happens next, I'm not present for it. I faintly hear voices telling me to breathe, but it's too late. The room goes dark around me, blocking out everyone and everything. Cold spirals through my core. My chest crushes in on itself, squeezing my heart as it fights to keep beating within the tight enclosure. Fear has me gripped firmly in its claws, its nails piercing my flesh as the darkness bleeds out.

Everything spins, a mixture of blue and brown eyes briefly flashing through the haze before I drown in the darkness again. My body starts to shake as I fight for control. In my mind, the attack lasts for hours. Arms band around me, my body airborne before I'm lowered again. Every cold part of me is clung to by a large warm hand. The Shadowed Souls surround me on the sofa, soothing and stroking. Whispering and worrying. Eventually the trembles ease and I can concentrate on inhaling and exhaling deeply.

There's a huge, final crash from above. I hear it so violently, I momentarily believe it came from within my own chest. Stomping follows, booming around the lower level. The guys shoot upright, calling out, pleading. Wyatt don't go. Dude, wait - let's talk about this. Come on Riot, we can sort it out. I peer over the back of the sofa to see him stuff his arms into his jacket and shoulder a large duffle bag. His back is riddled with tension, his brown hair a mess. My lips part on their own accord.

"Wyatt," I breathe. It's a desperate sound, a world of emotion held in that one word. As Wyatt swings the front door wide open, he stills. His head snaps aside and I'm drowning again. Those haunting green eyes physically spear me. The pain, the anguish, the disgust. His lip is snarling, and I watch the deadness of his hatred take over, killing all other emotions. I've lost him. He hates me, with a proper reason this time. Slamming the door behind him, he's gone and my heart cracks wide open.

I'm light-headed. My head lowers into Axel's lap for the second time tonight. Faces fill my vision, someone stroking my hair. Someone wrapped around my legs.

"W-what does this mean?" I manage to force out. I know what it means, I just don't want to admit it. Admit what Wyatt and I did, what we could have done. No wonder he's destroyed the house, my stomach rolls just thinking about it. Dax is there, staring deeply into my eyes. A lifeboat in the ocean, a piercing blue light to my redemption. His lashes flutter over his cheek for a moment, a deep breath preceding the answer I desperately need to hear.

"Oh, Little Swan. It means you always were a Shadowed Soul after all."

To Be Continued…