Page 46

Walking out of my room, Liam greets me by looping his arm through mine in a gesture that feels both familiar and comforting. “And what adventure do we embark on today, My Queen?” he asks with a playful glint in his eyes. I scan the area, searching for Dustin.

“Dustin went to fetch your breakfast,” Liam informs me as we start descending the steps.

“I’m not hungry. I simply wish to see Abbie,” I reply with a slight furrow of my brow, heading toward Gannon’s room. Abbie has remained secluded in the room since our return, prompting Gannon’s desire to take her somewhere. Before she departs, I need to make sure she’s healing alright.

Kyson told me she is leaving through the mindlink. It always freaks me out when he uses it. I’m not used to having someone in my head, let alone being a part of something. Abbie is rogue again, and I hate that, but she refuses to let Gannon mark her. Every time I ask Kyson to make her part of the pack, he says she refuses and he can’t unless he changes her.

I understand why. It’s not just about her feeling unworthy of deserving good things. If Gannon fails to help her, she won’t remain Lycan, and I can’t fathom a world without Abbie by my side. Shortly after the King’s departure, Gannon visited to inform me that he plans on whisking her away, and they’d depart after lunch.

Strolling through the winding corridors that lead to the back of the castle, I rap my knuckles against the door, hoping for a response. But silence greets me instead. I glance up at Liam, and with a determined grip on the door handle, he pushes it open cautiously, peeking inside.

“I’ll wait here. Gannon isn’t around,” Liam informs me, his gaze averted as if avoiding something uncomfortable. I nod in acknowledgment before making my way into the dimly lit darkroom. The heavy curtains are drawn shut, blocking out any trace of light and making it challenging for my eyes to adjust. In my attempt to navigate the room, I accidentally stub my toe on a coffee table, a surge of annoyance coursing through me. Cursing under my breath, I press forward toward the bathroom door.

“Abbie? It’s me,” I call out softly, hoping for a response. None comes. However, it sounds as if she is crying behind that door, and suddenly, I understand why Liam hesitated to enter. Taking in my surroundings, I push the door open wider and close it behind me. As I turn toward the darkened bathroom, I notice the mirrors have been concealed by large sheets of black paper, rendering the space even darker than the main room. The air is thick with the saltiness of her tears mingling with billowing steam.

An instant wave of perspiration breaks out across my skin; it feels like a stifling sauna in here. Strained murmurs emanate from within the enormous glass shower stall, its surface fogged up by steam.

“Abbie?” I whisper, opening the shower screen. And there she is, huddled at the bottom of the shower, scrubbing herself with a ferocity that seems it will be painful while she presses into the corner.

Her skin is flushed and raw from the scalding water. It is evident she isn’t okay. Everyone knows it but seeing her like this shatters my heart. Abruptly, she halts her movements as if only just realizing my presence. Slowly, she lifts her head and stares blankly ahead.

Clutched tightly in her hand is a scourer, the kind one would use to clean heavily stained pots, not delicate skin.

“I can still feel his hands, Az. Still taste his vileness in my mouth,” she whispers, her vacant gaze fixed on some distant point. A tear slips down her cheek, mingling with the cascading water before disappearing down the drain. Her quivering lip reveals the pain etched deep within her. Without hesitation, I step into the scalding hot shower, my clothes immediately becoming soaked.

I move toward her, near the far wall, and sit beside her. Some parts of her skin are bleeding, evidence of how harshly she has scrubbed herself. The scars that litter her body are raw and angry, although thankfully, they have healed and are now nothing more than raised reminders.

“Sometimes, it’s alright to remember the darkness, Abbie. Just don’t linger there for too long. Don’t let it trap you or give him control that he no longer has over you,” I tell her gently, my grip tightening around her hand that holds the scourer.

“I don’t want control. I want to forget, to hate him without loving him. How can you still love someone even after they do something like that? I should have listened to Gannon. I should have stayed,” Abbie whispers.

“That wasn’t love, Abbie. It was the mate bond, a twisted version of what you thought love should be,” I explained.

“I was naive, foolish,” she scolds herself bitterly.

“No, you wanted something more than what we have been given, and that’s not your fault,” I tell her. I sit with her, letting the boiling water scald my legs.

Thankfully, she only has her legs under the water, the rest of her pressed against the wall.

“I can’t live like this, Az. I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to be the broken doll.”

This isn’t the Abbie I know. This is who remained after everything has been taken from her. She seems as helpless now as she did when we first entered that orphanage. Back then, we were just children, unaware of the true horrors of the world, accepting whatever fate was dealt to us because we didn’t know any better.

Now that we are older, our eyes have opened to the harsh realities, the monsters that lurk in the shadows, and the lies that shaped our childhood. What we once considered normal has become distorted; what we thought was normal no longer is, and we are still uncertain of this new normal.

We have grown accustomed to pain because pain is familiar, comfortable in our own misery because it has become routine. Brokenness has become our norm. But how do you fix something that has become so deeply ingrained?

How do you break free from a cycle where pain is perceived as normal? Pain is not normal yet, all we know, or I did know until I met Kyson. Abbie hasn’t met her new normal; she is still suffering in the version we grew up with. Kade has compounded that feeling exponentially. And I can see she is tired - tired of the old normal. Though she once wore her resilience like armor, now it lay exposed, revealing her desire to shed its weight.

“You’re not broken,” I whisper despite the fact she looks it.

“I am. I don’t even know who I am anymore,” she murmurs, her gaze distant and emotionless.

“You’re my best friend, my sister. You are more than my life,” I tell her, squeezing her hand.

“No, we are you! We are rogue. We are whatever they let us be and nothing more,” she says.

“Only if you allow yourself to be. You are not defined by what he did to you, Abbie. You are not a reflection of the butcher’s actions, and we are not limited by the beliefs Mrs. Daley instilled in us,” I counter .

“You aren’t. You are a princess and soon-to-be queen. You are Azalea Ivy Landeena. I am rogue, I am nothing, and now everyone knows what they did, everyone knows the dirty things I wish I could forget; I am sick of them looking at me with pity, sick of them looking at me with disgust, sick of being what he made me!”

Abbie buries her face in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her shoulders shake with each anguished breath, and I can’t even begin to fathom the depth of her pain. But one thing is certain—she will make it through this. She has to because a world without her presence is no world worth being in.

“Then be Abbie,” I tell her, putting my head on her shoulder.

“But I don’t know who she is,” Abbie murmurs, her voice emotionless.

“What they did to you is not you, but a reflection of them. That is who they were. Were Abbie. They are dead, and you are still breathing. They don’t get another chance, but you do, so take it; don’t let them chain you down in the memory of what they did. They don’t deserve it. Live because you can and want to,” I tell her, and she shakes her head and pulls her knees to her chest.

Abbie puts her head in her hands and cries. Her shoulders shake, and I can’t begin to imagine what she is going through, but she will get through this. She has to.

“You sound like Gannon, but even he looks at me the same as everyone else, even you do; I know you can’t help it, but—” she chokes out, her entire body shaking.

“I don’t look at you with pity, Abbie. I see beyond the pain and the scars. I see the strength and resilience that define who you truly are. You are so much more than what they have done to you. You are the girl for whom I would risk my life, the one who has stood by my side when all hope seemed lost. And now, right here in this moment, I need you to make a choice. Are you going to jump? Because if you do, I will jump with you.”

Abbie’s voice trembles as she responds, her words carrying the weight of her self-doubt. “But I am nothing compared to you. I am just a werewolf while you are a queen.”

Her belief in her own insignificance pains me deeply. “You are everything to me, Abbie. My title means nothing if I don’t have you by my side, and you will be my Beta, so don’t tell me you are nothing because the only reason I am still here for any of this is because of you.”

Abbie chuckles and shakes her head but lifts it, placing it against the wall. “I am a werewolf. You are Lycan, I can’t be your Beta, and I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a Beta.”

“Do you think I know how to be a queen?” I laugh softly, sitting up higher to meet her gaze.

“I can’t even read, but we have people here who will help us. I have Kyson. You have Gannon and me.”

“But what if Gannon leaves me when he realizes I can’t give him what he wants?” Abbie’s voice trembles with fear.

“He wants to change you and mark you, Abbie. He isn’t going anywhere. And even if he does, I will always be here for you,” I tell her.

“You would change me?” she asks.

“Wouldn’t think twice about it, but we may have to ask how, though, because I am not that good at being Lycan yet,” I chuckle.

A chuckle escapes Abbie’s lips, mirroring my own. But her smile fades all too quickly, replaced by a somber expression. “Who would have thought that freedom could be worse than the chains that once bound us?”

“Freedom isn’t something that is given, Abbie. It’s a mindset. Only we can free ourselves.”

“Do you feel free?” she asks, and I sigh.

“I don’t know, but I know we aren’t the orphan rogues anymore. I don’t know who I am either, but I am determined to find out, and I prefer we find out together,” I tell her, and she swallows.

“More than my life,” she whispers.

“More than my life,” I reply, the weight of those words sinking deep into my soul.

“More than my life,” Gannon’s deep voice interrupts our conversation, catching us off guard. Neither of us heard him enter the room. As he leans against the sink basin, his presence commands attention.

“Gannon?” Abbie sighs, shaking her head beside me.

“How long have you been there?” I ask, surprised by his sudden appearance.

“Long enough,” he answers curtly. “Now hop out. We are leaving.”

Abbie remains unmoved, her body curled up against the wall as if trying to hide from him. Gannon’s eyes briefly meet mine before he rubs his tired face, a reflection of the blacked-out mirror behind him. I glance back at Abbie, taking in the scars that mark her skin.

“I told you I am not going,” Abbie says, staring vacantly ahead.

“You are. You can’t stay in here, love. So please,” Gannon begs, crouching down in front of us when he opens the door. I look to Abbie, who makes herself smaller as if she is trying to hide her body away from him.

But I refuse to let her feel ashamed of her body. Her scars may not be easily hidden like mine, but they are a testament to her strength and survival. She must know that.

“Can you please get out?” Abbie whispers, her voice barely audible.

We have the same markings. No doubt, hers are causing her more pain because while the cuts will heal, the marks on her heart… I’m not so sure.

Nonetheless, I can tell she is ashamed of her body, and what has become of it, and if that is what is preventing her from leaving the room, she needs to know she has nothing to be ashamed of. Her scars can’t be hidden by clothes like mine can be, but that doesn’t mean she should feel ashamed of them.

“Can you get out, please?” she whispers, her knees close to her chest.

“I have already seen you naked, Abbie,” Gannon responds matter-of-factly. Her face flushes crimson, her lips quivering.

“I can’t go out there,” she confesses, her voice filled with anguish. I take note of the scars that trail down her neck and shoulders, as well as the cuts on her face that have left white lines once healed. To me, she is still beautiful. I remember the shame I felt when the king asked me to undress in front of him and how Abbie pleaded on my behalf. Gannon sighs, frustration etched across his features, but he never directs it at Abbie.

“It’s just skin, Abbie,” I whisper gently. But for her, those scars hold memories and pain I cannot fully comprehend.

“He mutilated me. It’s one thing for everyone here to know, but it’s another for the whole world to see,” she croaks.

Trying to feel for the mindlink, I push on it, hoping I can open it myself, but when I struggle, Kyson opens it for me. I really can’t get used to him being in my head. The bond is one thing, but the mind is something else. Kyson makes it look easy, but it’s not.

‘Why do you feel embarrassed?’ Kyson’s voice resonates through the mindlink.

‘Abbie hates her body,’ I relay to him.

‘And that embarrasses you?’ he questions, his words causing my face to flush with shame. ‘Hmm, I don’t like this feeling. Where are you?’ .

‘In the shower with Abbie,’ I respond.

‘I see,’ he acknowledges.

‘Not like that. I have clothes on, but....’

‘But what?’

‘I want to take them off,’ I admit, my cheeks burning even hotter. Being naked in front of Abbie doesn’t faze me. We have seen each other unclothed countless times before .

‘You’re both girls, and I don’t see a problem with that.’

My face heats even more. I am not afraid to be naked in front of Abbie.

‘Spit it out, Azalea. Your hesitation is making me uneasy. What is it?’ Kyson demands, an edge to his voice.

‘Imagine if I were to walk outside in the castle completely naked,’ I blurt out, surprising myself with the audacity of my statement.

‘Definitely not,’ Kyson growls. His words anger me and fuel my next answer

‘I wasn’t asking permission,’ I tell him, though I was kind of hoping he would give it because I didn’t exactly want this to cause an argument.

‘Then why are you telling me?’ he snaps back.

‘So you don’t find out from the staff,’ I explain.

‘Azalea!’ he snaps.

‘Will be naked, walking the corridors naked,’ I answer.

‘Like hell you are!’