Chapter 14

Chapter 14

RILEY

I’m wellaware of the large shadow following me, only I don’t fucking care. Cree can linger and lurk around corners all he wants as long he doesn’t get in my way or try to force me to go home right now because the cool night air against my overheated flesh feels fan-fucking-tastic. I look up at the star-filled night sky and take a deep, cleansing breath. My lungs expand, and I open my arms wide, feeling free for the first time in ages.

Loving the night, I intentionally take the long way around to my shitty little apartment on the wrong side of the tracks. Bad idea. Before I can make it three quarters of the way home, my hands start to shake, and I’m hit with that need for another fix. Fire licks through my insides. Sweat trickles down my face and chest.

When I reach my front door, I’m hit with a cacophony of familiar scents. “Fucking assholes. Every last one of them,” I grumble under my breath. They’ve been inside my fucking apartment.

With shaking hands, I maneuver my key into the lock. The tumblers fall into place with a resounding click that echoes inside my head. What a mess. I take in the overflowing trash can sitting in the middle of my living room floor, full of empty alcohol bottles.

I scoff at the alpha-hole show of dominating control. “They didn’t even have the decency to take the trash out. Dipshits. The lot of them.” Walking over it to the pile, I pick up one of the bottles. There’s at least a thousand dollars’ worth of empty alcohol bottles in there, and I can’t believe they just dumped it like that. I know they’re trying to make a point here, but all they managed to do is fucking piss me the hell off.

My skin flashes cold as sweat forms on my brow, and my entire body shakes. My head snaps towards the bathroom. “They better not have … I swear to the fucking gods, if they did, I will fucking kill someone.” I already knew they took the fucking bottle from my bag, so all I had was the bathroom stash. I race down the hall and into the bathroom. Lying in the sink are five empty pill bottles. “Fucking. Hell.”

My knees hit the tile floor; my hands fly to my hair. Fisting my fingers around the delicate strands, I pull as I scream my frustration and rage into the empty space. Tremors rack my body, followed closely by the bone-deep chills and nausea.

Fuck, I need something.

Crawling around the bathroom floor, I scour every corner. One must have fallen. “Damn it, please, gods, just one fucking pill.”

White hot pain sucker punches my gut. Acid scorches its way up my throat. I throw a hand over my mouth, and one-handedly crawl to the toilet. I heave into the white bowl, my stomach emptying of everything I haven’t eaten today.

Taking a deep inhale, I try to center myself to stand, but get a big whiff of campfire and honey. “Cree,” I growl, narrowing my eyes on the side of the vanity.

It takesme an hour to stumble my way to the bar, thanks to the pain searing through every muscle, bone, and vein running through my body. Switch sits on his stool at the front entrance, upon seeing me, his face pinches with worry. “Riley, are you okay? You don’t look so good, sweetheart.”

“I’m pissed off, Switch. Where the fuck is Cree?” I storm past Switch and head straight for the bar to get a fucking drink, Cree be damned. Switch follows close on my heels, the warmth from his oversized body easing some of the chill that’s settled into my bones. My hands shake as I lean over the bar, reaching for a glass and bottle of whatever is closest.

“He’s in his office,” he replies and takes the bottle of vodka from my hands. He gives me a concerned look and shakes his head before pouring me a generous amount.

“Thanks,” I say and watch as his eyes take in the full sight of me and move over my shoulder, glued on whatever or whoever is approaching. The scent of burnt wood fills the air, and I know instantly who is there. My bloodshot eyes meet his narrowed hazel gaze in the mirror that sits behind the bar.

Let him be pissed, let him watch as his pet project fails.

Clear liquid splashes over the rim of the glass as I lift it off the bar, my hand convulsing like I’ve been hit by a live wire. I wrap my other hand around the glass and guide it towards my lips. Before I can take a sip, the glass goes flying from my hands, smashing into pieces against the wall.

“No,” I cry, spinning around and coming face to chest with a grizzly I’m about to murder. How dare he? Who does he think he is? My mother?

My muscles tense and a tremor travels through my system. A hollow feeling opens in my stomach, and I hunch forward, wrapping an arm around my middle while covering my mouth. Not again. I’m racing towards the bathroom a second later, thankful for the band playing down the street that drew away most of the regular evening crowd.

I slide on my knees in the last stall and hunch over the bowl. My stomach clenches, my back bows, bright yellowish-green acid the only thing to empty until I’m dry-heaving with nothing left.

Large hands gather my hair at the nape of my neck, holding it back and out of the way. Cree rubs soothing circles up and down my spine with the hand not still holding my hair, and oddly, the pressure relieves some of the ache in my abdomen.

“This has to stop, Riley. I won’t stand by and watch you hurt yourself, not anymore. I can’t.” His voice comes out as a growl until that last part when a subtle crack in his walls causes it to break.

My shoulders slump, and I shake my head. How can he put this on me?

Anger rages inside of me, and my spine straightens, my shoulders square. Adrenaline lending new strength to my muscles. I lift my head, looking over my shoulder at the bear at my back. “First of all—it’s not your call, Cree. My body. My life. My fucking call. Secondly, no one asked you to fucking get involved. You’re the assholes who dumped everything, now look at me. This is your fucking fault.”

I finish my little rant just in time for another round of dry heaving to start. Wordlessly, Cree continues to hold my hair while rubbing circles along my spine.

Time ticks slowly by as I continue to heave nothing into the toilet. After what feels like a lifetime, it finally stops, and I curl up in the corner of the stall, hugging my knees to my chest. Cree sits down beside me and gingerly pulls me into his lap.

His dominating action is met with a sad, uncoordinated protest, considering the heaviness that weighs on my limbs and eyelids. His arms wrapped around me tighten, boxing me in closer to his chest. My low moan-whimpers quiet as he tucks my head under his chin, the warmth of his body seeping into my bones and easing the aches.

Silence stretches over minutes before Cree breaks. “Riley, I know you’re pissed at us, and honestly, I don’t fucking care. We care about you, and we want you to live. The drugs and alcohol are a crutch to help you hide from whatever it is you’re running from. If you tell us, we’ll help you carry the past and move forward from it. You have no reason to believe me, but I hope you’ll hear the truth of my words when I tell you—you can trust us.”

Ice fills my veins and emotions as I chuckle under my breath, and forceful tremors cause me to tremble in Cree’s arms. “T-Trust y-you? Th-that’s rich. You broke into my a-apartment, Cree. Y-You went th-through my th-things. Got r-rid of whatever y-you didn’t f-fucking like. Re-regardless of what i-it would f-fu-fucking do to m-me.”

I push off Cree’s chest, and reluctantly, he releases his hold on me. Standing, my legs shake with fatigue under my weight, and I brace myself against the stall. Cree’s hands fist in his lap, and I can tell he’s fighting with himself to not reach out. To let me have this moment.

“Riley, believe it or not, but I do fucking care about what’s happening to you. Withdrawal is a fucking bitch in heat, I know.” His gaze drops to his hands, and in a tone so low I almost miss it, he says, “We all fucking know.”

I know he believes what he’s saying, I can hear the sincerity in his voice, but the part of me that’s in pain right now refuses to believe him. “Cree, look at me.”

Slowly, he lifts his gaze to meet mine. “Really fucking look at me.” I pound my hand against my chest as I speak. “If you gave two shits about me, you wouldn’t be forcing this pain on me. Instead, you would’ve talked to me about it first like a normal, rational person. You would have let me have a fucking say in my life. Worse, right this fucking minute, you wouldn’t be sitting on your ass while I fucking stand before you shaking in pain, trying not to fucking puke my guts out. You’d fucking ease this pain.” Tears run down my face as he just sits there staring up at me, his face a mask of indifference.

“You don’t have a fucking clue, Riley. You have no idea how much I want to take your pain, to wrap you up, keep you safe from anything that could cause you harm again. But in this case, it’s you that you need protecting from. If denying you the things you’re using to hurt yourself isn’t the way, then tell me how to fucking do that. Because I don’t know any other.”

I shake my head, my mind a whirlwind of confusing and conflicting thoughts. My mouth opens and closes with no good reply in sight. A sharp, lancing pain shoots through my abdomen, and my hands instinctively fly to my center. I fall to my knees, and a terrifying scream tears through me. The feeling of my organs being ripped apart giving life to the horrific noise bleeding from my voice.

Cree scoops me up in arms and cradles me against his body once more, trying to soothe my pain. Every small jostle sends a new shockwave of agony through me, and I writhe in his arms. Cree’s finger presses against the side of my neck, and a haze forms at the edge of consciousness. He rests his forehead against mine, his breaths ghosting over my face.

“It’s going to be okay, Riley. You’re going to get through this and come out stronger for it. You’ll see, little wolf, I’ve got faith in you strong enough for the both of us,” he whispers softly in my ear and places a gentle kiss on my forehead before the darkness completely consumes my mind.