Page 26 of Unhinged

For a long beat, no one speaks. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears, the anger still smoldering just beneath the surface.

Finally, I exhale, the breath shaky but determined.

“But I’m not leaving,” I say quietly. “For him.” I nod toward Judge—toward my son, the one piece of me I can’t afford to lose.

The one thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

And maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of me that knows I’ll never fully walk away from them.

Not while they still own a piece of me.

Gears crosses his arms, his posture stiff as he stares at me. “Like you had a choice. You’re injured; you can’t do a whole lot right now.”

I bite back a retort, a muscle in my jaw twitching.

“Don’t try to keep me caged like a goddamn bird, Gears.

It won’t work. I’ve had worse. I just need to get my energy back.

” The words come out sharper than I mean, but the frustration clogs my throat, tightens my chest. I’m not some fragile thing they need to protect. I’m not broken. Not yet.

Gears’s eyes narrow, and I catch the flicker of doubt there, but he says nothing. I wonder if he’s trying to figure out whether I’ll snap.

“Gears is a fucking moron,” Acid interrupts, his words heavy with something I can’t place—resentment, guilt, or maybe both. “We want you here. You’re our Kismet. We fucked up. I fucked up. But we want to explore what this is with you. We’re just glad you’re okay.”

There’s a raw sincerity there that I can’t ignore, but it doesn’t erase the doubt curling inside me.

Can they really want me? My mind races, fighting against the need for their approval, for their love, but the question lingers like an open wound.

Am I truly their Kismet, someone they’ll cherish, or am I just something broken, a puzzle they’ll put together and then discard when they’ve figured out how to fix me?

The thought of being nothing more than something to occupy their time, a temporary distraction until they move on, hits me like a punch to the gut.

My stomach twists. God, I want to believe them.

I want to believe that their words are true, that I’m more than just an afterthought to them.

I want to be wanted, to be held close, but the fear gnaws at me, the fear of being nothing more than a passing phase.

I feel the walls inside me close in. “People reject Kismets,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

“You’d do that?” Arrow asks, his words shaky, like he’s not sure if he believes I really would walk away.

Even the thought of this makes my chest tighten.

“She wouldn’t,” Judge cuts in. His tone is firm, unyielding, as though he’s speaking for me, as if he’s defending me from the monsters I’ve created in my head.

“Judge,” I scold, but there’s no real heat in my voice. I can’t bring myself to be angry with him.

He smirks, reaching into his pocket, and for a moment, I don’t even register what he’s doing until I hear the soft click of a phone being unlocked.

“Where the hell…” I snap my gaze toward the three alphas in the room, but they raise their hands, innocent.

“Hi, Grandpa Ike. Mom’s awake and being grumpy. Yeah, you can. She’s been real mean to her alphas, too.”

I roll my eyes and snatch the phone from Judge’s hand, my fingers brushing his skin for just a moment—long enough for a flicker of warmth to surge up my arm. I stick my tongue out at him.

“Hello.”

“Brydge. Fuck, it’s good to hear from you.” Ike’s deep, gravelly words crackle through the phone.

“How’d we get here, Ike?” I ask, speaking more quietly than I mean to.

“They found you on the side of the road with Earl shooting at you. You were hit. They scared him off and called me, thanks to the boy. I came, and we rushed you to the house where I fixed ya up. You couldn’t stay here, kid.

He knows you’re here. They’ll protect you, and no one knows you’re their Kismet. ”

My chest tightens. My breath catches. The weight of what he says hits me in waves. They protected me? They brought me here to keep me safe? The same men I’ve been avoiding, the same ones I’m fighting like hell to not want?

“They’re fucking dickheads, Ike,” I spit. “You sent me to the lion’s den.”

There’s a soft chuckle on the other end. “They might be dickheads, kid, but they’re your dickheads, if you’ll have them. They might not show it to you, but they were scared to death you were gone. The kind of gone you don’t come back from, ya feel me?”

A heavy sigh slips past my lips, the reality of the situation crashing down. I do feel it. I know exactly what he means.

“Yeah,” I whisper, the word barely audible.

“I’m glad you’re safe, kid. You’ll be sore for a while, but the scar should be minimal.”

“Thanks, Ike.”

“Anytime.”

The call ends, and I stare at the phone in my hand for a moment before passing it back to Judge. My mind is spinning, and I’m not sure what to feel, let alone what to do next.

“I guess Ike gave this to you?” I ask.

“Yeah, can I keep it… please?” Judge asks, softer now, the usual playful edge gone.

I can’t help the tiny smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. “Yeah, you can keep it. But there are rules.”

“Deal!”

I can’t stop my breath from catching in my throat as Acid speaks up. “Brydgett, we need to talk. Not about us... yet, but we have something for you.”

The words pull me out of my haze, but I can’t shake the unease gnawing at my insides.

“What is it?”

“Not in front of the kid.”

I glance at Judge, who’s already edging toward the door. “Can you go play? Safely?”

“Yeah, I’ll go see what Dillon’s doin’.” He gives me a quick nod before leaving the room, the door clicking softly behind him.

The room feels suddenly quieter, and I cross my arms over my chest, holding on to some semblance of control. “What could you possibly have gotten me?”

Acid smiles—slow, predatory, his eyes dark. “Eric.”