Chapter 36: Briar

brIAR

"You sure this is the right place?" I ask as I step out of the car. I slam the door shut behind me and push my sunglasses to the top of my head. The aviators I jacked from Malachi hold my windswept hair out of my face.

With my hands on my hips, I stare at the nondescript brick fa?ade of Los Altos Vault & Safe Deposit. I don't know what I expected from the place, but it wasn't an unassuming two-story Georgian-style building.

It's been a week since I woke up. I was fully healed within a day or two, but the Wyldharts demanded that I rest longer before coming here.

Uncle Vale figured out that the address in my mom's locket led to a safe-deposit place. She'd given him a key less than a week before Patrick killed her. We think the key will open a box she rented.

"Well, it says Los Altos Vault & Safe Deposit on the front, so yeah," Xander dryly remarks. He shoves his blonde hair out of his face with a rough jerk of his hand. Smoothing down the front of his gray button-down, he leans against the hood of the car.

I've hardly seen Xander this past week. He clearly regrets kissing me.

I wish I could say I regretted it, but I don't. Our kiss was perfect for us. It was raw, messy, painful, and a little bloody. It felt like someone punched their fist through my rib cage, pulled my heart out of my chest, and then put the mangled organ back into my body, expecting me to be able to survive like that.

That's how it always feels interacting with Xander. Even though I know I'll just get hurt, I can't stay away from him. I crave being close to him, just like I do with Malachi and Bastian.

"You ready to go in, pretty girl?" Bastian asks as he walks over to stand next to me. He yanks at the throat of his green button-down like it's strangling him.

I hold in my laugh at how uncomfortable he looks in dressy clothes. Not wanting to stand out, we all dressed up to visit the vault. The guys are wearing slacks and button-ups, while I'm dressed in a white floral blouse tucked into black jeans. I refused to wear a dress. I'm sick of spending all my time in skirts.

I bite my lip before answering. "I guess." While I need answers to whether my mom erased my memories, I'm terrified that we're not going to find anything. Once we go in, I'll know for sure whether this is a dead end. I'm not sure I can handle it if it is.

Bastian wraps his arm around my waist. "It's going to be okay, sweet girl," he whispers in my ear. I'm not sure it will be, but I nod anyway.

Malachi strides toward the building, looking imposing in his navy button-down and charcoal trousers. My eyes snag on his belt, and my cheeks heat, remembering what he told me he'd do with it. Shaking my head because now's really not the time for those thoughts, I follow him inside. Bastian moves his arm from my waist to hold on to my hand.

Xander brings up the rear, a silent shadow looming behind me. Whether he's there to protect me or stab me in the kidney, I don't know. I never know with him.

The short heels of my boots clack on the polished tan floor of the lobby. I swing my gaze around the drab beige walls, fake plants, and harsh artificial lighting.

Way too soon, I'm at the reception counter. A slight woman with a brown bob and blue eyes stares at us. Her eyes rake appreciatively over my men, causing a growl to rattle in my chest. My eyes widen at both calling the Wyldharts mine and growling. Malachi, Xander, and Bastian are not mine. I'm still not sold on this whole "mate" thing.

And since when do I growl? I wonder if this has something to do with the brew Patrick forced me to drink. I'm not dead, so there's a chance it worked. I'm pretty sure I'd notice if I were a wolf now, though.

The woman narrows her eyes on me once she's done thoroughly eye fucking the Wyldharts. "Can I help you? I'm Melanie, and I'm happy to help you with anything you need," she simpers as she turns to Malachi, leaning forward to push her ample cleavage at him.

I clench my jaw and ball my hands into fists. Digging my nails into the palm of my hand, I focus on the sharp sting instead of my need to rip her throat out.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I'm not usually this violent. Okay, maybe I can be. Usually, it's with more provocation than someone staring at the Wyldharts.

Malachi huffs out a laugh before pulling my back against his hard front. He winds his arms around my waist and drops a kiss to the top of my head. "Our girlfriend needs to access her box." I'm pretty sure he's just saying "girlfriend" to get Melanie to leave him alone, but my stomach does a summersault at the label. While I don't know if I even want to date them, I still preen at him claiming me. Leaning down so his mouth is at my ear, Malachi whispers low enough only I hear, "Jealousy looks good on you, baby girl." I shiver at his warm breath caressing my neck.

I open my mouth to deny that I'm jealous, but Melanie beats me to it. "Name and box number," she clips. If looks could kill, I'd be dead from the intensity of her glare.

"Briar Wylder, box 117." I pull the brass key out of my pocket as I talk. Rubbing my thumb over the engraved number nervously, I wait for her to either find the box or tell us we're in the wrong place.

"ID," is all she says in response. I dig it out of my pocket and hand it over with shaking fingers. She snatches it from my grip with a displeased frown. Tucking my hand back in my pocket, I avoid eye contact with any of the Wyldharts. With how observant they all are, they definitely noticed my trembling. I hate looking weak in front of them.

Maybe they'll forget about it if I ignore them long enough.

I snort internally. Unlikely. All three of them seem to remember every little detail about me.

Melanie purses her lips. "Follow me." She turns and walks out from behind the counter. She heads over to a shiny steel door, the click-clacks of her sky-high heels echoing across the lobby.

I break out of Malachi's hold to hurry after her. He grabs my hand before I can get very far. Entwining our fingers together, he strides ahead of me, pulling me along behind him.

Bastian grabs my other hand, making walking a little awkward. But his and Malachi's warm palms are the tethers I need to ground me. Without their hands holding me, I feel like I'd float away, lost to the worry trying to drown me.

We wait behind Melanie for what feels like an eternity. She taps her foot, the thumping sound driving me crazy. She apparently has better things to do than help us, the only other people in this place.

Eventually, a short balding man in a tailored suit approaches our group. He dips his head politely before he and Melanie fiddle with the complex lock. Their shoulders hunch so I can't get a good look at what they're doing.

With a series of clicks, the man pulls open the heavy steel door. A silver cage door stands locked behind the main door. Fishing a key ring from his pocket, he nimbly unlocks that door too. After waving us inside, the man leaves.

I step into the room lined with brass deposit boxes. The walls are filled floor to ceiling with hundreds of lock boxes. We wind through the hallways of boxes before coming to a room with a table and chairs.

"Sit," Melanie tells us curtly. I raise my eyebrows at her tone but do as she says. Malachi sits next to me with Bastian across from me and Xander next to him. I run my fingers over the smooth top of the oak table as we wait, tapping to music only I can hear.

Melanie returns with a small box in her hand. It can't be bigger than half a foot wide and two feet deep. She slams the box onto the table, causing me to jump slightly. After shoving a key in one of the keyholes, she looks at me expectantly, brows raised. I hesitantly insert my key into the other keyhole. With a turn, the box pops open. Staring at it like it's a snake coiled and ready to strike, I don't make a move to look in it.

"I'm sure she doesn't need you hovering over her. I can keep you three company while she's going through the box," Melanie purrs at the Wyldharts. I grind my teeth, fighting the need to throat punch her so she can't talk to them.

"We're staying," Malachi's voice cracks sharply in the still space. Melanie flinches, eyes widening at the violence on his face. With a jerky nod, she scurries out of the room, leaving us in peace.

There's probably something wrong with me that I think Malachi's hot when he looks ready to kill. Oh well. It's by far not the most pressing of my million and one problems.

Bastian slides the dull brass box in front of me. "Take as much time as you need, pretty girl. We're happy to wait all day if that's what it takes."

Nodding to show that I understood him, I blow out a breath. We could be sitting here for weeks if we wait until I'm ready. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready, so I just need to look in the damn thing. Pulling the box over until I can peek inside, I see an envelope addressed to me in my mom's delicate cursive. My hand shakes as I carefully reach inside and pluck out the letter.

Sliding my index finger under the faded pink seal, I slowly open the cream envelope, not wanting to rip anything. I pull out the letter tucked inside. Unfolding it, I begin to read what my mom left me:

My sweet Briar Rose,

If you're reading this, it means I'm gone. I'm so sorry, baby. I tried to stay with you as long as I could, but Patrick had other plans.

I hope you'll never read this. Just in case, I'm putting everything in place should anything happen to me. That includes taking some of your memories from before we met Patrick. I only took what was necessary, so please don't be angry. All I ever wanted to do is protect you and Ava Grace.

You'll only be without your memories for a little while. You need these memories to face what's coming. It's crucial that you know who and what you are.

Once you go to live with Uncle Vale and Aunt Abbie, they'll make sure you find my letter. I can face whatever lies ahead knowing my girls will be safe from Patrick and protected by the two people I trust most in the world.

To get your memories back, you need to go back to Hawthorne Grove and find the woman you used to know as Nan. Her name is Ophelia McAlister. She's the mage who crafted the memory-loss potion. Only she knows how to reverse it. Don't trust anyone else who says they can restore your memories. The spell is incredibly complex. Anyone else trying to remove it will do more damage than good.

You'll never know how sorry I am that I had to leave you. It kills me that I won't be there to see you finish school, find your mates, start a family, and so much more.

I know losing me will be hard. But, Briar Rose, don't let it harden you. You are so incredibly sweet, caring, and empathetic. Don't let my death make you forget how to be sweet and only remember how to be fierce. You were always meant to be both.

You're going to need people in your corner to get through what's ahead. Family, friends, and someday your mates. It's so easy to lock others out when you're hurting, walling your heart off to keep it safe. Lord knows the last thing I wanted to do when I lost your dad was let anyone in. But opening my heart up to people who loved me was the only thing that helped me heal. You'll never mend your heart if you never let anyone in.

You are never alone, no matter how much it feels like it sometimes. So many people are here for you if only you'll let them be.

What's ahead of you will be hard. If I could do it for you instead, I would. But you're the only one who can fix what's been broken for too long. I have faith in you, my Briar Rose.

Please give my letter to Ava Grace when she's old enough to understand it. I know I don't even need to ask you to look out for her. You've always been so kind to her, the best big sister anyone could ask for.

I am so, so proud of the girl you are and the woman I know you'll become.

Remember, Briar Rose, always be as sweet as a rose and as fierce as its thorns.

I love you so much, baby.

Love forever and always,

Mama

When I finish reading the letter, a drop of water splashes onto the thick cream paper. I didn't even realize I was crying. Reaching up, I swipe away the tears before they can ruin the last piece of my mom I have.

I set the letter down and bury my head in my hands. My shoulders shake with silent sobs, and my throat feels like it's closing up. I feel like I'm going to splinter into a million pieces, like a glass bottle carelessly dropped on a hard floor.

Malachi gently lifts me up from my chair and sets me on his lap. His strong arms wrap around me, keeping me together as I fall apart. This seems to be a routine for us. I wish I would stop needing it.

I'd be embarrassed about the Wyldharts seeing my weakness if I could feel anything past the grief smothering me. But I can't. All I can feel is the sorrow invading my bones, pulverizing my already bruised heart, and constricting my airway.

Why did Patrick have to take my mom?

She was sunshine, pure and good, and everything right in the world. And I'm not. I'm just me, weak and broken and probably irrevocably ruined by Patrick. Whatever Mama thinks is ahead of me, I know without a doubt she would have been better at handling it. All I've done for the last seven years is survive.

How can I fix something that's broken when I can't even fix myself?

I have to try. If nothing else, I have to try to live up to the person my mom thinks I will be. While I'll probably fail, at least I'll know I did my best. That's all Mama ever asked of me.

I don't know how long I cry, but eventually the tears dry up. I'm left a red-nosed, puffy-eyed mess. Clearing my throat a few times, I'm finally able to speak past the lump in my throat. "I need to go back to Hawthorne Grove."