8. Silver

eight

Silver

Three years and two weeks ago

Q uint and I went walking in the forest today. No shoes on our feet. All we did was talk and laugh. It was the most perfect day.

Present Day

They leave me alone for the rest of the night. Ross and Quint show me a room with blankets and clean clothes and retreat to wherever they're hiding.

The urge to flee settles and then dissipates with the cozy warmth and luxurious soft bed. I curl up and listen to Ross in some distant part of the house, strumming his guitar.

The following day passes the same way. There is food at the bench when I get up, with a note suggesting I might want to explore the house. I take three hours before I agree to the suggestion.

Exploring the house is exploring the pack. There are photos of the four of them everywhere. They're older, though. All of them smiling happily, and gradually, as the photos become current, the smiles fade, become more forced. In their photos, the pack grows solemn.

Someone enjoys decorating. It's in the throw rugs, the pillows, all of it is tasteful and matches. One alpha likes to play games. I found a massive room with consoles and beanbags. That is kind of endearing, and I wonder if the room belongs to West.

There are lists everywhere. With codes to the house. Numbers for emergencies. How to use the dishwasher, the dryer, the washing machine. It's cute. Hell, there's even a shopping list on the fridge. Without question, I know the person who is leaving lists everywhere is Ian. But it's that he's gone to so much trouble, laminating them and making sure his pack is safe. It opens this hole inside of me.

What would it feel like to be on the receiving end of that kind of care?

There's a really subtle fascination with cats. Statues the size of my thumb. There are pictures and photos and even platforms in all the rooms. I don't know how I missed them before.

I make it my mission to hunt down the cat.

Throughout the house, I peer into rooms, study the bedrooms. Ian is clean and orderly, his bed made precisely. Weston's room is clean but untidy. Quint's room is like a bomb has gone off, and Ross' room looks more like he works in there. In fact, I can't even find a bed.

On the third floor of the mansion, in an open room that is filled with sun and light, I find something that breaks through the hard exterior I've erected. The floor is carpeted in a pale blue, and the walls have navy and gold wallpaper stripes. There's a telescope and a bunch of couches arranged in a circle, but it's the huge patio glass doors and the balcony that pulls me across the room.

I stand there, looking out over the most beautiful gardens. From here, I can see Onyx's house.

What would it be like to live within walking distance of Onyx? To have a relationship with her? Where I didn't have to lie and fight to hide everything? Where I didn't have to say horrible things and behave in an awful manner to make sure she stays far away from me so that she misses the bruises and the scents of alpha on me.

I almost jump out of my skin when something rubs against my leg. I look down and smile. Seek not, the cat shall come to you.

"Hello, who are you?" I say to the cat.

Outside, a dog barks. I glance out the window and see it pulling its owner down the street and snort a laugh. The cat meows, dragging my attention back to her. She's a tabby looking monstrosity but with the longest hair I've ever seen on a cat.

I kneel on the floor and pat her. She's so soft.

"What's your name then, huh, darling? Oh, you are a sweetheart."

"Her name is Bobbi."

"Bobbi, that is lovely. Hi, Bobbi!"

I glance at Ian and try to calm my startled nerves.

Another cat walks in, yowling at the top of her lungs. I'm so shocked all I can do is stare at her. She's smaller than Bobbi, with a deep orange coat and small brown eyes.

"And this is Fey."

"She looks like a little Fey." The beast in question stands on her back legs, sinks her front claws into Ian's legs, and starts kneading.

He winces but doesn't move.

"Are they your cats, Ian?" I ask impulsively with a small smile.

"Ours, the packs, but," he blushes and avoids looking at me. "Yeah, I like cats. Plus, Ross was collecting statues and putting them everywhere, and he just pushed and pushed. We got Bobbi, and then Fey."

Ian's talking to me like I'm a person. I want to cherish this moment forever. I certainly will not point it out…oh, wait, of course, I will.

"Wow, look at us, talking like people."

Ian heaves a sigh. "Yeah, well. I've decided not to be angry anymore."

"Angry?"

He scowls, and I have serious doubts about his ability to choose how to direct his anger.

"What happened hurt me, but worse, it hurt my pack. I feel like it's my job to protect the pack from hurt. Thus I failed, and I've been mad at myself all this time and taking it out on you. You didn't have to like us or be with us. It was irrational of me to blame you for what happened."

He says it in a rush like he's rehearsed it several times over.

My fingers twist in my pants as I try not to let him know how much those words hurt. "I'm sorry. Ian, I've had a lot of long nights to think about where I went wrong and what I can do to make it up to you. The only thing I could come up with was to stay the hell out of your lives."

"Yet, here you are." He doesn't say it maliciously.

"Here I am."

Ian's eyes are dark and filled with something I don't understand. "I'm glad you're here."

I jerk, shocked at his words. "Really?" I ask before I can think.

"Yes. I…" Ian looks around the room, then walks to the patio doors. "I don't want anything to happen to you, Silver. Despite our differences, I care about you as a person."

I blink at his back. "I care about you and your pack, too, Ian. That's why you can trust me when I say it won't happen again."

"What won't?" Ian asks sharply, turning around.

"Me thinking that I can use people to make my life better. I appreciate all you're doing for me, but I will find a way to pay you back. I don't expect this," I hold out my bitten wrist, "to mean anything. It was an aberration-"

"It was intentional," Ian says with a queer look in his eyes. "It was so fucking intentional, I can't even deny it to myself anymore."

I get the powerful urge to walk backwards and keep going until my back's against the wall.

"But-"

Ian cocks his head to the side and moves towards me. "I made a choice, again, to help you. To keep you. Silver, I don't make mistakes, and despite how it ended the first time, I made a conscious choice to follow my instincts, the same as the day I first saw you, when you bumped into me and ran. I followed you and found you hiding in the gardens. I wasn't going to let you escape me then, and I sure as shit won't allow you to now."

He's standing right beside me, facing the other way. We are shoulder-to-shoulder. There is something so intimate about the two of us alone in a room together, talking about this, separated by an inch of thick air.

I shiver and blink rapidly as I stare at the window. There is so much emotion whirling chaotically around inside me. Surprise, regret, longing.

"It's done, Omega. You will always be a part of this pack," he snorts softly. I glance at him, finding him smiling wryly. "It's your choice how deep in this pack you want to go. We won't demand anything from you, Silver. This is your choice."

On that note, Ian steps past me and slips out of the room, the two cats following him obediently.

Did he mean all that?

My chest is tight, and I've got these strange tingles that I haven't felt in years. A tiny smile plays on my lips before I force myself to return to Earth and remember that they deserve better than an omega like me.

Don't they?