Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

ADIRA

“ I s he serious about this?” Duncan asks as I meet him in the parking lot.

“When you said it was fine if he crashed dinner, I texted him to let him know. Damon in turn said he’d meet us at your house,” I explain. “The entire interaction felt really odd, to tell you the truth. He walked me to class today, and it felt as if he was holding back every alpha instinct he had to keep himself from throwing me over his shoulder.”

“Kane doesn’t have the same impulse control and could probably benefit from it,” Callum says with a chuckle, getting out of the truck to help me into the back. “How was school today?”

“It was a long day, but it was really good,” I tell him. “My history teacher lacks the ability to keep people engaged, though.”

“You’re saying he’s boring as fuck, Short Stuff?” Duncan asks with a snort.

“Yes,” I grunt, climbing into the back of the cab. “I’ll get to choose my teachers next year, and do a little research on the student run experience blog. They rate teachers and how well they teach, so students can decide who to avoid.”

“That's helpful when choosing classes,” Callum admits, closing my door as I get situated. “So, do I get to play with Baby Dresmond?”

“Rude,” I murmur, a weird sound coming out of my mouth.

“What the fuck was that?” Callum asks, getting back into the truck.

“I think it was a very odd laugh. Maybe?” I ask, shrugging.

“It sounded like something was dying, Short Stuff. Eh, we’ll have to work on that,” he says, shrugging. He’s driving today, and I relax as he takes us back to his place. “Did you have any anxiety after this morning or issues?”

I knew one of them would bring it up.

I had a nightmare in the early hours of the morning. I was being held down naked by hands that were cruel and hurt me, and all I could hear was cheering…

“Adira!” Duncan yells, slamming on the breaks in the parking lot.

I guess he’s been calling my name for a while.

“I’m okay,” I rasp, suddenly choking on emotion. There’s a knot in my throat, and I clear my throat. “It wanted to pull me back, but I’m good.”

Duncan blows out a breath, rubbing his forehead as he begins driving again.

“I couldn’t wake you up,” he says. “We were all asleep on the couch, and you started screaming, and Callum and I couldn’t help.”

“It was really scary,” Callum sighs. “I worry about you, kiddo.”

“Seeing Jed and talking about Morris set it off,” I mumble. “I haven’t had a single nightmare until now.”

“It was a hell of a streak,” Duncan mutters. “Have you thought about, ah, talking to someone about things? With a…”

“Therapist?” I ask, my tone souring. “I don’t want to open myself up a million times in order to ‘deal’ with what happened. I know it helps some people, but I’d rather claw my eyes out.”

“How about clawing someone else’s eyes out?” Callum says gently. “Yours are too pretty for that. We’re just worried about you, and fuck if I’m not going to dream about the way you sounded.”

Sighing, I nod. “I’m a lot to deal with,” I mumble. “Sorry.”

“Woah, that’s not what I meant,” he growls.

Twisting, he unclips his seat belt and starts to crawl into the back seat. There’s not a lot of room as he squeezes his large body through the seats.

“You’ll never be able to live down getting stuck, Callum Kelly!” I gasp, eyes wide.

“It’s fine,” he grunts, contorting until his ass hits the back seat and he’s able to free his shoulders and arms from between the seats. “There.”

“God, there’s a reason I’m the older brother,” Duncan mutters.

“By like eleven months!” Callum crows. “Get over yourself, big bro.”

“You two are insane,” I breathe, letting Callum tug me into a tight side hug. His leg is still between the seats, and he leaves it there, so he’s half sprawled out.

“We know,” he says. “You draw the insane to you, babe. Ever thought of that?”

“Not until now,” I grumble. “I’m not sure how I feel about that now that you mention it.”

“Make a goddamn army, Short Stuff,” Duncan growls, turning at a light. “Get strong, keep yourself safe, and live your damn life.”

“Mmhm,” Callum grunts. “Use us, babe. We do not mind one bit. I need you alive, happy, and making those alphas grovel on their knees.”

“Last night was a pretty good start,” Duncan remarks.

The Princess of the Unhinged ? I guess that’s what I’m going to start calling myself if the Kelly brothers insist on reminding me that I draw protectors who are insane to me.

“I wasn’t expecting Jed to drop to his knees,” I admit, able to talk about it now that I have someone to anchor me.

The now familiar scents of these alphas remind me of safety and comfort. It’s a safe place to land, and they expect nothing from me. They won’t judge me if I’m less than my best.

“You’d be surprised what an alpha is willing to do when he realizes the only way to get what he needs is to bend,” Callum says.

“It doesn’t bode well if just seeing him gives me nightmares,” I mumble.

Neither of them says anything after that, which is quite telling in itself.

Damon is sitting on the stairs of their home when we arrive, though his vehicle isn’t.

“I’m not sure I like the fact that he jumped our fence,” Callum grumbles as Duncan parks the truck.

The fence and gate are new, something the brothers recently added to their home. I haven’t asked yet, but I have a feeling it’s because of me. It feels as if they’re closing ranks, ensuring they can protect me.

I’m not sure what I did to deserve them, but I’m constantly in awe of Callum and Duncan Kelly.

“He’s a ghost, and reminding us that we can’t keep her to ourselves,” Duncan grunts. “The bastard is lucky he didn’t step on any of the land mines we buried.”

“You what?” I ask, jaw dropping as we get out of the truck. Callum has to do some contortion to get out, but he makes it.

“We had an issue a couple of years ago with a security company we hired,” Duncan explains. “Two omegas were kidnapped during that party, and now I don’t trust them to keep our property safe. We still occasionally have parties, but we hire from the mafia families now.”

“Loyalty is hard to come by,” Callum adds, reminding me of how my father’s guards turned tail after he died or were killed.

Damon stands as we walk up to the front door, looking like a stony faced God. My resting bitch face may be on point, but his appears chiseled and dangerous. He’s in the same clothes that he wore at school, but he has a gun case in his hand.

“I brought my own,” he grunts, shrugging. “I want to figure out what she’s most comfortable with before I give her a firearm.”

“She can’t keep a gun with her at the shelter,” Callum reminds him as he unlocks the door. “That's why she has a knife and stun gun instead.”

“I don’t like that rule,” Damon mutters. Their banter continues as we walk through the house, and I listen to them. As much as they complain about each other, they seem to tolerate the other well enough.

“There are kids at the shelter,” I remind him. “I have a lock box for my knife and stun gun, so it doesn’t end up in the wrong hands.”

“We’re teaching her how to handle a gun and defend herself because she’ll need the knowledge,” Duncan says as we enter the kitchen. “At some point, it’s possible someone will push Short Stuff’s boundaries.”

“Please kill first and ask questions later. It’s the safest way to go,” Damon says like the killer he is.

“I don’t think that’ll solve everything,” I tease him.

His green eyed gaze is heavy on me as he stares, and it’s unnerving. I’m not sure how to act around him outside of school. I can be witty and sarcastic as we’re walking between classes, but being in close quarters with him outside of that is unnerving.

“The lasagna just needs to go into the oven to cook, since I prepared it earlier this morning,” Duncan says, hitting a button on the oven to begin preheating.

“You’re so domestic,” I observe. My stomach growls, and I wince as I rub it.

“You’re having a snack,” Duncan growls in response, pulling out ingredients for it. “The lasagna will take a while, and I can hear that you’re hungry.”

“Your classes are so close together, there’s no time to eat,” Damon mutters. “Can you bring snacks with you?”

“Food is a hard subject for Adira,” Duncan says, his words attempting to close the conversation. Anxiety ruins my appetite, which they know well. Callum takes the bread and drops it into the toaster, while Duncan starts to slice the strawberries. I’ve been trying to expand my comfort foods, and they’ve noticed.

“It’s easy to forget to eat when you’re not in the habit of it, or things affect your appetite.”

There’s no judgment in his words, simply an explanation, yet Damon freezes as he absorbs the words.

“What are you making her?” he asks, looking as if he’s studying for a test as he watches us.

Callum places the toast on a plate, bringing it to Duncan to spread peanut butter and sliced strawberries on it. While it appears like a crazy combination, I think it’s delicious. Pushing the plate toward me, Duncan watches as I take a bite and actually grin in happiness.

“Whatever makes her smile like that is what I’ll make her. It’s worth the weirdness,” Duncan murmurs before continuing to pull his lasagna out of the fridge.

It’s slowly getting easier to feel happiness and smile. I didn’t even burst into tears this time. My emotions are scattered and frayed, and while I appreciate the option of therapy, I meant what I said.

My trauma is tied to the knowledge Rock Dresmond could take me at any point in time. The only way for me to move past it is to remove him from the equation.

Pushing away the thought before it manages to ruin my appetite, I polish off my snack, sighing as my stomach admits it is full for now.

“Ready?” Damon asks, pushing off the counter. I think he watched me take every bite, as invested as the Kelly brothers are in feeding me.

“Ready,” I agree as I stand. Callum grabs my plate and shoos me away, moving to the sink to wash it.

“Go straight back, there’s a pathway outside to the shooting range,” Callum says to Damon. “While the path is covered, it’s still cold. The range is closed and should be warm enough not to need coats and gloves once you’re inside.”

I hadn’t taken off my coat yet, knowing I’d be going outside again, and pick up my mittens to keep them warm for the walk. I’m not built for this weather, unless I’m parked in front of a fire reading.

“I remember where it is,” I remind him. “Unless you feel like walking us out.”

“I doubt he’ll try anything. The house and grounds are safe, and —”

“Callum, I hope you’re kidding,” Damon complains. “One, I’m right fucking here. Two, I’m trying to fix things with Adira, not get stabbed. I really just want to hang out, spend time with her.”

“I just wanted you to affirm that. I need to know that she’s safe with you,” Duncan says with a smirk.

They walked him right into admitting how he feels and what he wants. It wasn’t necessary, but I can see they want to be very clear that I’m under their protection.

“You’re both assholes,” Damon mutters. “I’m sure there are cameras all through the house to ensure Adira’s safety. That’s what I’d do, anyway.”

“As long as we understand each other. Now that you know how far my brother and I are willing to go for Adira, we’re good,” Duncan says, uncaring that he’s poking the alpha.

Tugging on my mittens, I roll my eyes as I begin to leave the kitchen. Damon will follow or catch up, but they’ll spend the entire time I’m supposed to be practicing, arguing instead.

“I’m surprised the guys haven’t asked you to move in,” Damon says mildly. It must be something he’s been thinking about, since it’s kind of out of the blue.

“They live pretty far from the city, and I’d have work and school to travel back and forth for every day,” I tell him, not really confirming or denying.

Occasionally, the Kelly brothers take the decision out of my hands and drag me back here, but it’s usually when my emotions are all over the place and I need the extra support. I’m really glad I was here early this morning when I had the nightmare instead of scaring people at the shelter.

I need to lock things down.

“Mmmhmm,” Damon murmurs. “You’re juggling a lot of things, little omega. I hate to say it, but they’re good for you. They take care of you in a way you won’t let us.”

“You know the list of reasons why I won’t,” I mutter, opening the back door to the path to the shooting range. It’s on the other side of the property, and I swear this place reminds me of a maze.

“Maybe, but I would like that list, so I know how to prove it no longer has weight,” he says. “And if the item is true, I want to work on disproving it through my actions.”

“How very non-alpha of you,” I sigh. “I thought you all beat your chests about how you never make a misstep.”

“That was before I fucked up through association,” Damon says. “I owe you a great many things because of it.”

“Here is my list of betrayals that I’m laying at Pack Dresmond’s feet,” I say, taking a breath to give myself some space from what I have to discuss. If I can pretend it happened to someone else for just a moment, I’ll be able to get through it.

I believe that’s a bit of disassociation, but it’ll have to do.

“You slept with me, bonded me, and still planned to sell me at auction. Next, you shot me and talked about me while I was passed out. Jed complained the entire time about keeping my ass alive too, so I wouldn’t drag you down with me.”

“Not completely accurate, but yes,” Damon says as we walk.

“I was gaslit, drugged, and manipulated into trusting Morris, because I had to depend on him for everything,” I continue. “He took me to the bathroom, fed me, and gave me a tea I thought was to help me heal faster. Instead, it was also drugged.”

“I didn’t know that,” Damon rasps. “They kept me out of the details, because they didn’t want my feelings and thoughts leaked to you. After the auction, we agreed that we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other.”

“How lovely for you,” I sigh, finding that this conversation is draining me of energy.

“I want the rest of the list, please,” he says gently. “I’ll stay quiet.”

“Morris woke me up early the last morning we spent at his sister’s home and gave me an ultimatum: to choose my poison, because he needed me unconscious for the drive to the safe house and auction,” I explain to him.

“I was dehumanized, humiliated, and raped for your father’s enjoyment. I seriously thought about ending everything, begging for a weapon, but I’m tied to your damn ass forever.”

“You do care,” Damon deadpans. “You’re right, my pack and I have a lot to make up for, and we will. Now, I want to see how well you shoot. It’s always a great stress reliever.”

“As long as there’s no bets riding on this,” I sigh, opening the door to the shooting range. It’s much warmer here without being stifling.

“Maybe we should,” Damon croons. The teasing lilt to his voice is something I’m more used to hearing from Kane. Damn, I don’t think I can handle this from both of them.

Kane managed to charm me out of my panties with a knife and his smirk. I’m not planning for a repeat.

“Uh, no,” I say, shaking my head.

Taking off my mittens, I leave my coat on, so I can get used to shooting without complete mobility. It’s something Duncan recommended after teaching me the basics of shooting. I won’t always have full motion of my arms, so I should learn how to shoot with a handicap as well.

“I’m not going to bite unless you beg, Adira,” Damon says, making my eyes widen. No, I do not want that. Absolutely not. “Come over here and let’s see what you’re most comfortable holding.”

The change of subject keeps me off balance as I walk over, and he opens his case. He’s still wearing his leather gloves, his fingers long and elegant. The same hands that kill so easily, could have been used to create beauty in another life.

Damon has me hold several different sized firearms, until he decides on a Sig Sauer P365. This isn’t a gun that I’ve fired before, but I find that it’s easy to hold. Damon helps me with stance, and I find that it somehow helps with my balance when the gun recoils.

Noise canceling headphones seated tightly over my ears, safety glasses on my face, I shoot at the paper several feet in front of me, until he tells me to stop. Duncan and Callum are great teachers, but the small tweaks Damon offers make me even better.

Pulling the paper forward, Damon grunts in approval. “I want you to try shooting my Glock next,” he says. “I’m impressed. With more practice, you’ll be able to defend yourself just fine. I’m not even needed, and that’s a difficult pill to swallow.”

“I was standing with my legs wider before, and it was making my shot go a little wild,” I say softly. I hate the part of me that wants to soothe his ego, but I also believe in giving credit where it’s due.

“How were you standing before?” he asks, interested.

I show him how, and he nods. “I can see how that would happen. Let’s try the Glock, and then you can tell me which you prefer. The bet is that if you don’t completely hate my company, you’ll let me take you out on a date,” he says.

My lips part at his simple, confident request. “That doesn’t count as a bet,” I admonish.

“It does for me,” he says. “I want to be trusted enough to have time with you that’s unsupervised. Valentine’s Day is apparently a thing, even though I don’t understand how it’s a holiday.”

Amused, I shrug. “It’s a Hallmark holiday, so I don’t think it really counts. I’ve never been on a date, so I’m not an authority on this.”

“You get very serious and proper when you’re divulging personal secrets,” Damon observes. “I’ll have to remember this. I would love to be each other’s first date. I’m a recluse, and my track record isn’t the best when it comes to experience with omegas.”

“I sense a story there,” I say.

“Remind me to tell it another time, beautiful. I don’t want to ruin this moment with a fucked up story. My father has a way of traumatizing people through sex,” he says softly.

Jed’s words float back to me from last night, confirming his words. My heat isn’t something I remember well, because of how desperate I was. It was need, slick, and knots. I don’t remember any conversation that may have been had at all.

It’s yet another reminder that Rock needs to die. Painfully.

“What are you thinking about?” Damon asks, moving to bury his face in my neck. “Fuck, you smell so damn good.”

“People dying,” I whisper, gulping. “Is that completely terrible?”

“What’s right and wrong? My moral compass is broken, all I know is that if it makes you happy, I want to make it happen,” he says.

“Is it really that simple?” I ask him.

“It is for us,” he says. “Rules don’t apply to us, Adira. You probably don’t want to talk about Jed, but he’s working on things behind the scenes.”

“He mentioned it,” I say. “He’s running into some difficulties getting people to take him seriously here.”

“Proving that your stripes have changed is hard,” he says. “Doesn’t make it impossible. Jed’s working on it. Have you decided if you want to be involved when we finally make our move against Dad?”

Picking up the Glock, I fix my stance and put my headphones back on. Damon changes out the paper without comment and runs it farther back than before. Rolling my eyes, I settle into a peace I rarely get to feel. Once the magazine is empty, I take my finger off the trigger and take a deep, shuddering breath.

Dammit, Damon. I hate that he’s right.

Carefully releasing the magazine, I place the gun next to it in front of me. Pulling off the headphones, I glance at Damon and smirk.

“I have decided,” I say, picking up the conversation easily. Damon crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for my decision. “I want to be there when it happens. I want to carve his fucking heart out, so I’ll know it’ll never beat again. I also don’t know what it is about the silence that happens right before I shoot a gun, but I love it. It’s peaceful, and helps quiet the chaos in my head. I also think I prefer the Glock.”

“Good,” he says. “I’ll tell you when and where I want my date.”

Amusement sings through my body as we go one more time, only breaking because of the tremble in my arms from the strain. Today didn’t go the way I thought, it was better.

Sometimes therapy comes in a different package than you’d expect.