2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Stephanie

" N o, no, no," I whimper. I lay my head on my shaking hands on the steering wheel and take deep breaths to calm my rapid heartbeat.

I knew it would be hard to come back here. I have been preparing as much as possible to see the place where I was held in a cage for two months. I have made progress over the months since I was rescued. I thought I could handle it.

Resting my chin on my crossed fingers, I peek through the windshield at the town I can see in the distance.

"Ten more miles," I whisper. "I can do this."

You may be wondering why you would return to the place where you were held against your will.

My family has been equally supportive and smothering since I came back. I love them, but I was suffocated by their watchful, pitying eyes. I want to feel fucking normal again. I want to be able to walk into a bar and not freak out because a bar was where I met the date who kidnapped me. They wouldn't let me do anything alone, which sounded great for a while, but after months of being unable to walk down the street by myself, I had had enough.

How am I supposed to heal if I can't face it ?

They were not happy about my choice to move. When you are constantly treated as if you can't handle the basics of daily life, you start believing it. I need to find my strength again. I have been terrified for too long. They texted me numerous times during the drive, and my mom called once, hesitant to ask how I was doing. I don't want to think about our complicated relationship.

I need this. I have to walk this path.

I knew it was going to be challenging. I had crossed two states without any problem, with the windows down, the music blaring, and plenty of snacks to eat. But the moment I saw my destination, I lost it.

"I can do this," I repeat. "The bad men aren't here anymore. They are all dead. I will live my life despite their desire to break me. I will not break." My voice grows stronger with every word.

I discovered that it helps to voice my wishes, fears, and steps out loud. I spent a month in therapy working on my fears. As a brown bear shifter, speaking to a stranger about your problems isn't normal. It helped until it didn't anymore.

I learned to put a smile on my face to soothe my family, hiding what I felt on the inside, making sure never to show it on the outside. I wanted them to think all they had done was helping. They tried, but I found myself trying to make them feel better.

Breeane was different. My best friend, my rock. After the first week after I returned, she made everything normal when I was with her. She treated me as the friend I have always been, and I am so grateful. I love her desperately, and the last month without her has been brutal. It's not the same, just talking on the phone. I need her presence in my life, face to face. She is my sister, even though she was human and I'm a bear shifter.

The day I told her about shifters' existence, she didn't blink. She accepted everything I am. I felt free. Free to be myself .

She was all in when I brought up the idea of moving and opening a bakery. She didn't ask why or think I was crazy. She is a baker, and I knew she had always wanted to open her own place. Her family is the opposite of mine. They have always treated her like shit.

She moved here first, hoping to get started on the construction. She did that and more. The construction company she was considering hiring happened to be three brothers who turned out to be her mates. They are lion shifters and recently turned my best friend into a lion.

I was not expecting one of them to be a shifter who was held in a cage alongside mine. I am anxious to see him again. We didn't talk much. Logan was already there when they kidnapped me; by then, he had given up. By the end, all of us had. I hope I don't break down when I see him. I have talked on the phone with Logan since he met Breeane, but seeing him might cause all the bad shit to surface. I am thankful that he is safe and healing. How could he not with a wonderful mate like Breeane?

I lean back in the driver's seat and look behind me. I quickly stopped on the side of the road when I felt the panic rising in my chest. I have to bring myself to keep driving. Step by step. Mile by mile.

I grip the gear shift, my hand flexing in indecision.

I let out a shriek when my phone rings.

Breeane's name flashes, and tears spring to my eyes. How does she know when I need her?

"Hey," I answer.

"Where are you?" Her voice rings out over the car's speakers.

"Close." I look behind me and slowly pull back on the road.

"Come straight to the bakery," she demands. "I'm waiting here with Logan. How was the drive?"

"It was good," I lie. Well, it's only half a lie.

"Right," she snorts. "I am so excited to see your beautiful face. How many snacks did you eat on the way?"

I glance at all the wrappers over the passenger seat and floor. "Plenty," I say with a laugh.

"I planned to feed you, just the two of us."

She knows me best. "I will somehow find the room." Eight more miles.

"I can't wait for you to see the building. The upstairs is ready for you to move in, and the bakery is progressing. I have been a little preoccupied with three sexy lions, learning my new body, and being in heat."

I grin. "That's very understandable. I bet you are complaining a lot, too," I say dryly.

"All the time," she responds. "Why me? Why do I have to be subjected to three hot lion shifters in my bed?" She sighs, and I hear a laugh in the background.

"Such a challenge," I say with mock sadness.

"I can't wait until you find your mate. I won't be the only one having to put up with it."

"Mate?" I sputter. "I don't think that's going to happen."

"Why not? You don't want a mate? I remember we talked about it many times over the years. You couldn't wait to find him."

"That was then." Five more miles.

"Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to having a mate." I have thought about it a lot over the years, but recently, I can only think about is getting better.

"It's the best," she stresses, and my snort echoes.

"Says the human, turned shifter at the beginning of the honeymoon stage."

"I want you to be happy."

"I know you do. Thank you. You have done so much to help." My hands relax on the wheel. "How about I leave it up to the universe? If it is meant to be, I will allow it." Four more miles .

"You'll allow it," she laughs.

"Where are your other mates?" I ask.

"They are finishing up a job. If you are comfortable with it, they will come by later."

"Of course. I have to meet them and make sure they pass inspection," I inform her.

"Right," she snorts. "And if they don't?"

"I will watch them constantly," I start. "Just to make sure they treat you right."

"Don't look at them too long. My emotions are all over the place, jealousy being one of those emotions."

I smile. "Are you adjusting well though?" Three more miles. My palms start to sweat.

"As well as I can. I finally have stopped running into things."

I blink. "You've been running into things?"

"I couldn't get used to my speed. I didn't know I would move so freaking fast. It's good that I heal quickly now, or else I would have bruises all over my legs."

"Really?" I laugh, and the tension eases.

"It's not funny," she groans. "Lucas has been giving me endless shit about it."

"It's a little funny," I mumble. I fight the urge to close my eyes as I enter the town.

"Every sense is magnified. How do you prepare for that?"

"I wish I could have helped more," I say. I follow the directions on my dash. It's not far now.

"How could you? I don't think anyone can really prepare." It is much easier to be a born shifter. As you grow, your senses grow with you. Being turned, you are suddenly bombarded with new powers, and everything is enhanced times ten. Her emotions are going from one extreme to another.

"I regret not being here when you were turned." I exhale as I turn on the road the building should be on.

"None of that," she snaps. "It was something I had to go through alone. My mates have helped as much as they can."

"I'm sure," I say. "How many orgasms have you had today?"

"Hey," she cries. "The heat is constant."

"So, a lot?" I slowly pull in front of the bakery. "I'm here," I sigh.

She screams and drops the phone.

I did it. I made it.

All my tension disappears as Breeane flies out of the front door, her red hair waving behind her. I choke down the sobs as I watch her. My hand shakes when I reach for the door handle. It takes three tries to open it.

"Steph," she whispers as I attempt to stand.

The adrenaline hits me, and my muscles lock while I was sitting. I can stand, but I have to lean against the car.

"I'm okay," I say, but my voice is strained. "I made it."

"You did. You did it, and I am so proud of you." Breeane wraps her arms around my shoulders, and I grip her waist tight.

"I'm happy to see your face." I hiccup and hide my face in her hair, her familiar scent comforting me.

"You look beautiful."

"Don't lie," I tease. I am wearing old grey sweatpants and a plain black tank. My black hair is windblown, and I didn't bother to apply makeup before I left.

"I would never lie," she says. She pulls back and wipes the tears from my cheeks.

"You are a gorgeous lion." Her turning only enhanced her beauty.

She stares into my eyes for a moment. "Let's go inside. "

I nod, but my body doesn't want to move. "I need a moment," I whisper.

She frowns. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head frantically. "I think my body is in a bit of shock," I admit.

Her eyes widen, and mine mimic hers when Logan appears behind her, his attention locked on me.

"Logan," Breeane cries.

"Steph," he says, gently moving her out of the way. Then he is braced in front of me.

More tears fall as I see the understanding and sympathy on his face. He slowly lifts his hand and puts it on my head. I attempt to smile, but instead, my lips tremble.

"I made it," I repeat, the words holding a whole different meaning between us.

"We did," he says softly.

He looks so different than when we were trapped in cages. We had to run for our lives daily, running from humans who thought it was a game to torture shifters. He gained all the weight that he lost. The constant humiliation he wore on his face and in his frame is healed.

"I'm happy for you," I say through chattering teeth. I can't get warm anymore. Shifters love being in nature and the elements and we rarely get cold, but I'm never warm ever since I was forced to live outside. Especially when I am stressed or stuck in the past.

"You said you were doing well?" He frowns.

I shrug. "I am." This is me being well.

"Sure," he mumbles.

"Logan," I whisper, shocked when he bends, sliding his arm under my legs and behind my back, lifting me easily. I desperately grab his neck. "You don't have to do this." When a shifter is mated, especially so soon after, touching someone who isn't their mate is painful. Casual touches are fine, but this much contact has to be uncomfortable for him.

"Breeane, get the door," he says as he crosses the sidewalk. She hurries to do as he asks.

"Logan—" I start.

"Don't argue. I'm fine." He looks down at my upturned face. "We all need a little help sometimes."

I close my eyes. "I need to be stronger." The words slip out before I can stop them.

"That's ridiculous," Breeane growls. She pulls out a chair, and Logan sets me gently on it. "You are the strongest woman I know."

"I don't feel like it," I admit.

"Breeane, stay close to her. I will get some blankets and her things from her car." He moves away quickly.

"Fuck, I'm so embarrassed," I moan, covering my face.

"Fuck that," she says, pulling a chair in front of mine and reaching over to grab my hands. "Do not hide from me. I will never judge you. It was difficult to make the trip. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I can't imagine the guts it took for you to come here."

"I'll get better," I say. "I will adjust." I take a deep breath.

"You take all the time you need." She squeezes my hands. Logan returns to the room and covers my shoulders with a soft blanket.

"I approve," I say, and he tilts his head. "I told her I would have to approve; you passed." He grins, and I smile slightly in return.

"I'm grateful." He pats my head and leaves the building.

"What about Lucas and Las?"

"They pass by default," I say.

She giggles. "Thanks."

Now that the panic is fading, I notice my surroundings. "Holy shit."

"Do you like it? "

The room is bright. I am sitting in the eating area, with ten other round tables around the room. The tables are white with a gold stripe down the middle, with matching chairs pulled around them. The walls are white with decorative gold molding at the top. Two long display cases under the counter separate the room, and the countertops are different shades of white, along with the shelves behind them. There is a door that must lead to the kitchen.

"It's amazing."

"I wanted it to be bright. It's going to be a bitch to clean every day, but the effect is worth the effort."

"How did you get this all done?"

"The guys wanted to make progress quickly before you got here. The kitchen isn't done yet. The appliances are on order and should be here next week."

Logan comes back in with some of my bags in his arms, moving directly toward the kitchen. "I'm impressed. It's just as I pictured."

"You like the colors? I know you usually go for darker shades."

"It's perfect." I lean forward and touch my forehead to hers. "You did it. You are living your dream."

"I want you to live yours, too."

"I will," I promise. I sit back just as Logan passes again. "He's going to have the car emptied before I can help."

"Let him." She bites her lip. "He's been worried," she whispers.

"Why?" I frown.

"He knew being here would be a challenge for you. He wants you to be comfortable."

I watch his progress when he walks by. "Despite my reaction, I am doing okay." She looks at me disbelievingly. "Truly. This is something I have to do. Seeing a place I couldn't leave fast enough was a shock, but it will ease. I want this to be home. "

"I believe in you. If it gets to be too much, don't be afraid to tell me."

"I won't."

"It's done," Logan says, walking over.

"Do you want to see the apartment?" Breeane asks.

"Of course." I shake off the blanket. "Stop," I say as Logan moves to pick me up again. "I appreciate it, but I have to walk there myself."

He backs off. "I'm here if you need me."

I stand slowly, grateful my legs hold me. The tremble is minimal. Breeane leads the way, and Logan stays close behind me. We pass through the gutted kitchen, past a small office beyond that, and up a flight of stairs.

"It's all yours," Breeane says with a flourish when she opens the door.

I love the bakery because it's bright and cheery, but the apartment is more my style. We walk into a living room and kitchen combo. A comfortable-looking, deep brown couch faces a large window, a television set under it. Two end tables are on either side of the sofa.

The kitchen is small, with black appliances and dark brown cupboards that match the couch perfectly. There is a small table against the wall next to the door.

"I love it." I run my hand over the small island that divides the area in half.

"Wait until you see the bedroom," Breeane gushes, walking backward and wiggling her fingers. "Come."

I laugh and follow. The bedroom is large. She removed the wall between the two bedrooms that used to be here, making one space. A queen-sized bed is at the center, decorated in blacks and greys. An armoire, made of the same wood as the cupboards, is against the wall on the right. Two side tables are on either side of the bed, and a chair is in the corner next to a small bookshelf .

Breeane knows how much I enjoy reading, and Logan put the box that holds my books in front of it.

"What do you think?" Breeane asks, her hands intertwined under her chin.

"You did too much."

"This isn't even the best part." She walks to another door to my right. "This is."

I step into the walk-in closet. It is the same colors. Shelves line the wall on either side. Space to hang everything up above them.

"Breeane—" I start.

"No. You deserve a nice place. You are going to be handling the entire business side of the bakery. I want you to be happy here."

"How could I not?"

"The bathroom is nice, too." She walks across the room, pulling me with her. "We put in a big tub, and it also has a shower."

"Wow," I sigh, turning around in the middle of the room to take it all in. What girl doesn't like a nice bathroom? The tub is big enough for two, and the shower, with a glass door, is next to it. "I won't ever want to leave." I wander back to the bedroom.

"We also stocked the fridge."

"Breeane," I gripe.

"I won't do it again, but I wanted you set up. Logan is going to get us food. We will eat way too much, and I will stay the night."

I look from her cautiously excited face to Logan's uncomfortable one. Being away from your mates so soon after mating is never good. They need each other.

I cup her shoulder. "Would it be alright if we did that another night? I am exhausted."

"Are you sure? "

I know I was right to say so when she responded without argument. She loves me and wants to be supportive, but she loves her mates.

"I am," I reply. "My stomach is still full."

"Should I postpone the party too?"

"No." I shake my head.

"If it's too much too soon. . ."

"I'll be fine," I say firmly. "I want to meet your other mates and your friends."

"If you're sure," she says, reaching for Logan's hand.

"Very. Now go home." I smile and wave my hand.

"I'll call you in the morning before I come over," she says.

I nod. "We will lock the door on the way out," Logan says. "There is a lock on the door here." He points to the entrance. "Also, the door to the bedroom."

"I appreciate it, Logan." He pulls Breeane toward the door.

"I love you. Call if you need anything."

"I will. I love you too." I smile until they are on the other side of the door. When I hear the front door lock, I relax my face. I lock the door, deadbolt it, and put the chain in the lock at the top, then sigh.

I turn and lean back. Silence. I need silence now.

I roll my head to the side, see the open curtain and the fading light beyond it and hurry over to shut the heavy curtains. I stand for a moment, taking in my new surroundings. I think about getting something to eat but don't have the energy or desire.

I look at the locked door again before moving to the bedroom. I mindlessly go through the motions of getting ready for bed.

"Teeth brushed. Face washed. Pee. Wash hands," I mutter.

I dig through my suitcase and pull out my heavy flannel pajamas. They are warm and worn. My body still isn't back to the same size it was before. I have always been trim, but I'm still skinnier than I should be. My breasts are small—that hasn't changed—but my hips used to have more of a flare. It would help if I ate regular meals. I fold my discarded clothes and place them in the closet. Moving back to the front door, I check the locks, turning the handle a few times and pulling.

"Door locked." I leave the kitchen light on and go back to the bedroom, shutting and locking the door.

I leave the bathroom light on but shut the door halfway, and then stand at the end of the bed, chewing on my nails.

I look over my shoulder as if someone is watching and shake my head. No one will know.

I reach for the comforter and pull.

The blanket drags on the ground as I walk to the closet. I throw it to the floor and go back for the two pillows, adding them to the pile.

I search the room for my large duffle bag. Crouching when I find it, yank my soft, warm throw blanket out and throw it on top of everything else.

I stand in the doorway sideways, looking back and forth.

"My knife," I mumble. I spot my purse and jog over to it. Digging through it, I push my wallet out of the way and slide the knife and my phone out. I hold it at my side and go back to the closet.

I shut the door and turn the lock, grateful there is one.

Dropping to my knees, I arrange the pillows so I will be facing the door. I crawl under the blankets and arrange them over my body, tucking them tight under my sides. I send a group text to my family to inform them of my safe arrival. I send a private message to my sister, Gabby, letting her know I am safe in the apartment, and how much I love her. She was upset when I decided to move and the guilt has been eating at me because of it. I then tuck the knife and phone under my pillow and cross my arms over my chest .

Bear shifters like small places. It's normal. I used to love snuggling in my small bed, secure, safe, and warm.

I didn't start sleeping in a closet until I returned home after living in a small cage in the woods, cold and alone, even with the occupied cages lined beside me. I don't know if I will ever feel warm or safe again.

It pisses me off that they took that away from me.

What made me feel special as a bear shifter now makes me feel weak.

The joy of small spaces has turned into a necessity.

I close my eyes and pray that somewhere in the place that took away my independence, I find it again.