Page 63

REMI

We’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours. The dress clings to me, and I want nothing more than to go home and get out of it.

When we got here, Knox had a doctor waiting for us.

I didn’t know the type of pull he had until we walked in, and the doctor was waiting for us.

He took me to a private room, complete with Knox following, and dressed the wound.

The entire time, Knox didn’t take his eye off the doctor.

When I jumped from the antiseptic wipe, Knox’s growl caused everyone in the room to freeze.

The sharp scent of antiseptic stung my nose, mingling with the tension that thickened the small room.

Knox hovered so close that his presence created a barrier between me and everyone else, and I could feel his protective energy radiate like a shield.

When the doctor hesitated, gaze flicking from my face to Knox’s clenched jaw, I realized nothing would happen until I wanted it to.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, my voice trembling but certain. I reach out, brushing my fingers against Knox’s hand. “I’m fine now.

He looks down at me, concern carving deep furrows into his brow. “The moment you get too tired, let me know. We’ll get out of here so you can go lie down.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move—every muscle in his body taut with worry and possessiveness. But then my words sink in, and I see his stance soften, just a little. He gives a curt nod to the detective, an unspoken agreement that this only goes as far as I allow.

“We made some leeway into Al and his pack. It didn’t take very long to piece it all together,” the detective says, giving me a long look before glancing over at Knox.

This doesn’t bode well for me.

A slow, uneasy twist settles in my gut as the detective speaks.

It’s as though there’s a crucial piece of the puzzle just out of reach, something important slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I try to hold on.

The detective’s lingering gaze sends a ripple of anxiety through me, prickling my skin.

I search his face for reassurance but find only more questions in the hard lines around his eyes.

He keeps glancing between me and Knox, his words careful—almost rehearsed. The sense that there’s something he’s not telling us gnaws at my nerves. I feel exposed, as if the room itself knows I’m missing a vital truth. My thoughts race.

Am I forgetting something? Did I overlook a detail that matters?

The detective’s silence between sentences feels weighted, and every pause leaves space for worry to bloom.

I wrap my arms around myself, fighting the urge to demand answers, to insist that he tell me exactly what he’s holding back.

Instead, I force myself to stay still, to listen—hoping that if I wait long enough, the missing piece will reveal itself.

“Does the name Henrietta ring a bell?” the detective asks.

I nod, wondering why he’s talking about her. “That’s my aunt’s name. Why?”

I barely remember her. I was little when my parents died, and was only with my aunt for a short amount of time in my parents' home. When she gave me up, she said those horrible words to me and sent me on my way. I never heard from her again. I didn’t even look for her when I got old enough to search.

“It seems she was Al’s pack’s omega.”

My eyes crinkle in confusion. “Was?”

He nods. “It seems that a year ago she succumbed to … self-inflicted injuries.”

I gasp, slapping a hand over my mouth. “She committed …” I can’t even finish the sentence. Tears spring to my eyes.

“Yes. From the police report, she had several instances of unexplained broken bones and wounds that she could not explain away to the doctors when she went to the ER.”

“You don’t think they …”

“Yes.” He nods, steepling his fingers together on top of his desk. “I think her pack abused her. I also read your file from when you were placed in the group home. It seems your aunt saved you.”

A sob catches in my throat. All these years, I thought she didn’t want me. But, in reality, she was trying to protect me from her pack. The ache that blooms inside me is sharp and unyielding, a twisting agony that hollows out my chest and leaves me trembling with grief.

Tears stream down my face, hot and relentless, blurring the room into a watery haze.

My mind spirals with memories—fragmented, fractured, a patchwork of regret and longing for a family I barely knew and a protector I never understood.

Guilt gnaws at the edges of my heart: for not looking for Henrietta, for not seeing the truth sooner, for surviving when she could not.

The weight of her suffering crushes me, suffocating and immense, and I clutch my arms tight around myself, wishing I could hold the years together, mend what was broken, speak words of comfort into the silence she left behind.

Every breath is a reminder of all that’s been lost, all I can never reclaim.

“Oh, my god. She saved me.” Knox takes me into his arms, kissing the top of my head and trying to give me solace. Only, his touch isn’t bringing any type of solace. It’s making it harder to breathe.

“Yes, she saved you, Miss. Chesterfield. We, um, found a letter from the caseworker who took you from her.”

“C—Can I see it, please?”

He hands the letter over to me. It’s still sealed, so I know he hasn’t read it himself. His information came from hours of investigating.

I rip open the envelope and read my aunt’s last words to me, which I didn’t even know she wrote.

Dear My Sweet Girl,

I know you may have a lot of questions, and I’m sorry I won't be able to answer them in person. Just know, you are loved, sweet girl. Every chance I got, I would come to the home and check in on you. It was hard for me to, but I found a way. You were the last part of my sister, and I didn’t want to give you up, but I saw no version of a future where you did not hate me. So, I chose the lesser of two evils.

Remember, I love you. I have always loved you.

Since the moment your mother told me she was pregnant with you, I fell in love with a little person I didn’t even know.

The moment they died, I hated myself because I couldn’t keep you.

My pack … I didn’t want you around them.

It’s why I always visited your family alone.

They are horrible people, and I didn’t know that until I had already gotten in too deep.

If you’re reading this, then you know I’m gone.

Only, my death wasn’t self-inflicted like how they will make it out to be.

Al, Johnny, and Stephen did things to me that no omega should ever have to endure.

When the time is right, I have the proof of their abuse.

They will go away for a very long time. I hope it doesn’t come too late.

Also, I have a daughter. Her name is Charlene. If you ever get close to her, run the other direction. Fast. Please, sweet girl. She will be under Al, Johnny, and Stephen’s tutelage, and she will be just like them. I fear for her safety as well as her mind, and I hate that for my little girl.

I don’t know how long I have left on this earth, but again, just know that you are loved.

I loved you and your mother so much, and since she’s been gone, I’ve lost a piece of myself.

The piece that keeps me going when all I want to do is quit.

Your survival is the most important thing to me.

So, sweet girl, live. Take chances. Love to your heart’s content.

Never settle like I did. When you find the pack that is your everything, grasp that with both hands and never let go.

Love Always,

Aunt Henrietta.

Tears continue to stream down my face as I reread her letter.

After reading it once more, I hand the letter over to Knox, and he reads it.

He chokes on a gasp as he reads her words.

He quickly hands the letter over to the detective, saying that he’s taking me home and that if the detective has any more questions, he can find us there.

Knox gently places a reassuring hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the stark, echoing corridors of the police station.

The fluorescent lights and the steady hum of conversation fade behind us as we walk, an unspoken promise woven between each footstep.

Outside, the night air is cool and bracing, carrying away the heaviness of the past hour.

We move in silence to his car, grief and relief mingling in the space between us.

Knox opens the door for me—his movements careful, protective—before settling behind the wheel.

The engine’s low purr fills the quiet, and as we drive away, the city’s lights blur by, each one a small reminder that life continues even after tragedy.

During the ride, Knox reaches over, entwining his fingers with mine, grounding me through the storm of emotion.

He squeezes my hand, wordlessly vowing that whatever comes next, I won’t face it alone.

The familiar route to their home feels different tonight, every street corner shadowed with memory and hope.

When we finally pull into the driveway, Knox turns off the engine and lets out a long, shaky breath. For a moment, we simply sit there, letting the silence settle. Then, together, we step into the house—into the fragile warmth of safety and the uncertain comfort of a new beginning.

Tripp and Boone are both there to greet us.

They both pull me away from Knox and hug me so hard I can barely breathe.

I feel safe in their cocoon of love, and it’s hard not to fall apart in front of them.

All I want to do is fall apart for the time I missed with my aunt.

I feel so terrible, thinking that she was this horrible woman who didn’t want me, when all she wanted was to give me a chance at life.

“I’m going to take her upstairs. Guys, please cook something up for her when we’re finished.”