Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

IZZY

I slam the door behind me and lean my forehead against the smooth surface. Tears run down my cheeks and silent sobs rack my frame. I haven't mastered not crying, but I have perfected crying silently.

Nothing even happened to me. Lots of people have gone through so much worse.

What gives me the right to be so messed up about a little over the clothes touching?

Nothing.

I'm just a crybaby.

"You need me to get Bishop, kid?" Aggie asks as she floats through the wall next to the door. I can give her enough juice for her to interact slightly with Bishop. He knows the signs of Aggie trying to get his attention.

I shake my head. "No. He doesn't know."

Aggie sucks in a surprised ghostly breath. "You didn't tell him?"

"No," I rasp past the emotion choking me. "What the fuck am I supposed to tell him? He'll absolutely lose his shit if he finds out." Bishop is crazy protective over me. If he finds out some of the boys at school have tried to force me into things, he won't be able to stop himself from killing them. That's a one-way ticket to mage jail. I won't allow that to happen to him.

It's been six months or so since anyone's tried it. I should be over it by now. But I'm clearly not. Even worse, I just made an absolute ass of myself in front of all four of them.

"I don't know, kid. But it's not healthy to keep things like that inside," Aggie says sagely.

Scoffing, I ask, "What about my lifestyle is heathy, Aggie? We both know I'm not going to make it to thirty, maybe not even twenty-five. If they don't kill me, my nightly activities will. So, what does it really matter?"

"Don't talk like that, kid," Aggie gently admonishes. She's in almost as much denial as Bishop is. They both think there's a future for me. They're both wrong.

Not saying anything further, I ride out the emotions until I finally stop trembling. The tears dry up, and the sadness ebbs away. In its place is white-hot anger. It burns my insides and makes me feel something other than shame and self-loathing.

Some of the anger is at those guys who touched me without consent. Most of it, though, is at myself.

I should be stronger.

I shouldn't have let myself get into those situations.

Needing an outlet for my anger, I pull my fist back and aim it at the white wood door. "Kid!" Aggie yells before I can make contact with it.

"What?" I snarl, too lost to my rage and pain to be polite.

"They have punching bags here. Don't break your hand punching a door!" Aggie's words manage to break through the anger suffocating me.

Giving her a sharp nod, I pull open the bathroom door. I don't look at any of my mates as I head over to the punching bags. When I reach the bag, I rip off my gloves. I attack the bag bare knuckled, needing the pain to ground me and keep me from drowning.

After a few punches, Bishop walks up behind me. I brace myself for him to try to stop me or make me wear the gloves. "Here," is all he says as he thrusts my headphones and phone at me. A lump forms in my throat at his thoughtfulness. Bishop always knows exactly what I need.

Would he still want me, knowing how weak I am?

I can't think about that. I've cried enough for an entire lifetime tonight. Thinking about that just makes the tears threaten to spill again. So, I shove it out of my mind as I snatch the earbuds and phone from Bishop.

None too gently putting my earbuds in, I put on "Making the Bed." I don't see if Bishop walks away, because I'm too focused on punching. With my music going, I lose myself to the rhythmic thumping of my fists against the bag.

After a particularly hard punch, I feel my left pinky and ring finger knuckles crunch as they hit the bag. Bright, intense pain flares in my hand. It feels like a lightning bolt hit those two knuckles and set them on fire. "Fuck!" I shout, partly from the pain and partly from frustration at myself.

It was stupid not to use the gloves. Now I can't keep punching, because I'm pretty sure they're broken.

Yanking my earbuds out, I carelessly toss them on the ground near their case. I scrub my other hand over my face as all four men come rushing over.

"What happened?" Archer asks, as he's the first one to reach me.

Blowing out a breath, I debate not answering any of them. But I need Bishop to heal it for me. I'm not in control of myself enough to use my magic right now. "I broke my knuckles," I grit out.

Archer's eyes widen at my admission, but his brother is the one who asks, "Can I see them?"

Nodding, I hold out my left hand for Luca to inspect. His warm hand gently grabs my wrist. The other supports my palm as he gets a look at it. His gentleness surprises me, especially coming from the guy who was a major asshole in the alley.

The other three lean over to see it too. It's already starting to swell. My knuckles are bruised from earlier, so my hand looks a mess. "Yeah. Those are broken," Luca confirms with a nod, his aquamarine eye jumping up to mine. "You're handling the pain well. You break your hands often?"

Somehow, I refrain from snorting. If only he knew. Broken knuckles are a walk in the park compared to what happens nightly in the forest. "Something like that," I reply evasively.

Luca assesses me for a moment. But he doesn't push for me to answer, surprising me again. Maybe he's not as much of a jackhole as he seemed.

"Need me to heal that for you?" Bishop asks tiredly. Looking at his drawn eyes and lips flattened into a harsh line, I feel awful for putting him through this. I know he hates seeing me hurt.

If the roles were reversed, I'd be fucking pissed at him. But Bishop is used to dealing with my recklessness. He's not even angry anymore, just resigned.

"Yeah," I answer, my voice small and pathetic.

Bishop notices the change in my voice. "I'm not mad at you, Iz." He tries to reassure me as his hand hovers over my damaged one. Luca's still carefully holding it, keeping it steady for Bishop. Warming blue light surrounds my hand, knitting together the broken joints. I sigh in relief as the pain slowly fades away.

"I know. It'd be better if you were," I tell him.

Bishop huffs out a laugh. "You'd rather I yell at you?"

"It's better than your quiet disappointment," I whisper, feeling the damn tears threaten again.

"I'm not disappointed, Izzy. I'm just worried. So fucking worried, it makes me sick. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days, and I don't know what to do to stop it." Bishop's voice breaks at the end, and he closes his eyes to gather himself.

He's not wrong, but I don't know what to say to make him feel better. While I desperately want to reassure him, I also refuse to lie to him.

Aggie saves me from having to figure it out. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have to go, kid. The ghosts are getting antsy. They'll wander off before long."

Sighing, I ask Bishop, "Can you open a portal for me to my backyard?" He doesn't know exactly where I go in the forest behind my house. I'd like to keep it that way, so I'll just hike the rest of the way to my clearing.

"Yeah." Bishop turns away from my now mostly healed hand. I still can't punch with it, because the insides aren't fully healed. Mage magic fixes most of the damage and accelerates healing, but wounds still take time to heal, even with magic. But it doesn't hurt anymore, which is a win in my book.

Now that my hand is as healed as it's going to get, I gather up my earbuds and phone. Walking over to the sweatshirt I stole from Bishop, I pull it on and shove my stuff in the pocket.

"Where are you going?" Luca asks, sounding almost as tired as Bishop.

Christ . I sure do have a way with boys if I can wear on Luca that much after only a few hours.

"Into the woods." I can't help but softly sing the iconic line from my favorite musical. I love anything that subverts your expectations. Into the Woods is excellent at that.

Luca's brows furrow in confusion, my reply not really answering his question.

Before he can ask anything else, I turn on my heel and head for the portal Bishop just opened. I call over my shoulder, "Well, I wish I could say it was nice to meet you. But, quite frankly, it was soul destroying."

I'm about to step through the portal when Cain softly asks, "Was it really that bad to find out we're your mates?" The imposing wolf's voice wobbles a little.

Way to make me feel like shit, dude.

Sighing, I turn back to the three wolves. Dropping the attitude I usually use as a shield, I let them see some of the exhaustion and sadness I try to hide.

"No, Cain. It's not about you. If I were a normal girl, I'd be fucking thrilled to be mates with you. But I'm not normal. And finding three more men who were meant for me that I can't be with is a special kind of torture," I tell him simply.

Because it is. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep Bishop at arm's length. Now, I have to find the strength to keep three determined wolves at a distance too.

"Do yourself a favor, Cain, and forget about me. Forget about the fucked-up mage that fate hated you enough to pair you with. Go find yourself a nice, normal wolf to have nice, normal babies with and live a nice, normal, safe life together. It'll be better for you that way," I finish as I turn back toward the portal.

Before I step through, Cain calls, "And where will you be while I'm living this normal life you dreamed up for me?"

I let out a humorless chuckle. "Dead," I whisper, so quietly, I'm not sure they can understand me. Without waiting to see if they heard, I step through the portal.