Page 102 of Claimed By the Psychos

She's crying now, silent tears that soak into my shirt. I hold her tighter, press my lips to her hair, try to absorb some of her pain even though I know it doesn't work that way.

"The night we escaped, Felix killed twelve people," she says, matter-of-fact. "I killed three. We burned half the building down on our way out. And you know what the fucked up part is? I don't regret it. Not a single death. They all deserved worse."

"Good," I say, and mean it. "They did deserve worse."

She pulls back to look at me, surprised. "You don't think we're monsters?"

"I think you're survivors. I think you did what you had to do. And I think anyone who judges you for it can fuck right off."

She kisses me then, sudden and desperate and tasting like tears. I kiss her back, trying to pour everything I feel into it—the admiration, the desire, the bone-deep need to protect her even though she's proven she doesn't need protection. But that doesn't make me want to offer it any less.

When she pulls back, we're both breathing hard.

"I need him," she says, and it doesn't hurt that she's talking about Felix because I get it. I understand that kind of bond, forged in trauma and survival. At least, to a point. "But part of him never left that place. Part of him is still in that building, watching his brother hurt people, unable to stop it. And now that I'm safe, now that he doesn't have to protect me anymore, that part is taking over."

"You think he's going back to kill his brother."

She nods. "And he won't survive it. Not because Evan will kill him—Felix is too smart, too skilled for that. But because once it's done, once he's got his revenge, there won't be anything left. He's been running on rage for so long, I don't think he knows how to exist without it."

"Then we don't let him go," I say simply.

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You can't cage Felix. Trust me, I've tried. He's like smoke. The tighter you try to hold on, the faster he slips away."

"Then we give him something else to hold onto. Something besides revenge."

"Like what?"

"Like us. Like pack. Like a future that's more than just surviving day to day." I cup her face in my hands, make her look at me. "Juniper, we're not going to let either of you go. Not now that we've found you. Felix might not want us yet, might not trust us, but that doesn't mean we're giving up."

"You don't even know him."

"I know he protected you for seven years. I know he's willing to die for you. I know he's been carrying weight that would crush most people and still managed to keep you both alive." I brush my thumbs over her cheekbones, wiping away tears. "That tells me everything I need to know about his character."

"He's not easy to win over," she warns.

"Neither are you," I point out, and she actually smiles. "Doesn't mean you're not worth it."

She curls back into my chest, and we sit there in comfortable silence while the computer screens cast blue light over everything. Her breathing evens out, and I think she might have fallen asleep when she speaks again.

"I'm scared," she admits, so quiet I almost miss it. "I'm scared of losing him. Of being alone. Of finally having something good and watching it fall apart."

"You're not going to be alone," I promise. "Even if Felix leaves, which we're not going to let happen, you have us. You have pack. You have a home."

"For how long? Until you get tired of the crazy omega who sees things that aren't there? Until you realize we're more trouble than we're worth?"

"Forever," I say, and mean it with every cell in my body. "Or until you get tired of us and murder us all in our sleep."

She laughs, real this time. "That's actually pretty likely."

"I know. Carlisle's already got a betting pool going on who dies first."

"Who's winning?"

"Elias, actually. Carlisle thinks you'll poison him because he'll try to medicate your shadows away."

"That's... actually pretty plausible." She yawns, huge and unguarded. "Archer?"

"Yeah?"