Good Girl by Sam Hall

Chapter 30

“Um…yeah. Hi.” OK, so far, so bad. “Bren said—” A low growl at that. “OK, big guy. I need to talk to Rhys right now. You in there somewhere?”

“What?” he replied, shaking his head, then frowning. “How the fuck did Cyn get here? Did you bring her, Bren? I told you—”

“Yeah, you did, but she countermanded your self-destruction orders, and going forward, I listen to her. If I’m gonna be a spear carrier, I’m doing it for the nicest smelling one in the room, and newsflash, that ain’t you.”

“Shit.”

Rhys was in the house and he was off me, shrinking back in the covers at a speed that was dizzying, but he wasn’t moving well. I saw it as he settled gingerly against the wall, when he scrambled for the remote, as we both watched it happen on the TV. On screen Rhys covered me with a kind of assurance that had me fidgeting in the sheets, pushing my neck up, and then—

“So that’s how it looked,” I said in a nervous tone, going for a smile and not really managing it. We all looked like frightened kids, wide-eyed, wary, and wondering what the hell was going on.

“Doesn’t really do it justice,” Brendan said, shaking his head. “It was the most fucking intense thing I’ve ever been through. Thought my eyes would boil in their sockets from watching the two of you. It was like slipping through the veil and seeing the Fair Folk my nan always used to go on about or something. There’s no way you could be human.”

Rhys jerked back at those words like he’d been slapped, throwing the blankets back and stomping over to pull the plug for the TV from the power point. He just stared at the black screen for a second, then turned part of the way towards us.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t specify who, which made sense, I guessed. I emerged from the bed, the weight of the blankets somewhat comforting, but today wasn’t going to be comforting.

“You’re hurting,” I said.

“No fucking shit. Doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“No,” I said more clearly. “You are hurting physically. What happened?”

He wouldn’t answer me, just staring mulishly at the space on the floor between us all until I hissed out a breath and took a step forward. He jerked backwards until I put my hands up.

“What would you do if I were standing here hurting?” I asked.

“Smash whoever hurt you into oblivion,” Rhys replied without a thought. “Wouldn’t be enough of them to put in a teacup.”

“And me? What would you do for me?”

That was hard to get out, because I was afraid of what he would say. I was also afraid of what he wouldn’t, but this was my mate, we had a problem, and I was done waiting around for a solution. I was going to be a part of it, even if just to work out a way to sever the bond.

He watched me for a few heartbeats, scanning my body as if to make sure there was no evidence of injury there. When I moved closer, he didn’t flinch away this time, the gap between us slowly eroding, until finally, there I was—a small omega in front of a massive alpha, asking him to not be the manipulative fuck that used her to ensure his pack’s safety. But that would come later. I reached for the hem of the thermal he was wearing, heard his hiss as I lifted it, and found something much worse than I’d expected.

“Jesus, Rhys…” Bren growled, at our side in three strides, front and centre for the big reveal.

Rhys’ skin was no longer pale and marked by his tattoos. Instead, someone had applied their own marks. Bruises blossomed everywhere in every shade, from the darkest black to red, purple, and blue, to a sickening yellow. Dried blood crusted some, it was hard to tell. Whoever had worked him over had done it so thoroughly, they’d not left any part of him unmarked. Rhys winced when we tried to pull the shirt off, Bren growling, grabbing the back of it and ripping it down the back, allowing it to be eased off over his arms. He was thinner, having lost condition, the muscles clearly outlined with almost desperate definition. One last cry as Rhys did his best to obliterate himself.

“Let’s get him into the shower,” I said crisply.

“No,” the man himself replied.

“If you don’t want us to, we won’t,” I said.

“I don’t.”

“Look me in the eyes and say that, Rhys.”

I bent down slightly, watching his eyes roll up, meeting mine, something I instantly regretted. Looking into an alpha’s had always been physically painful, but now it was just emotionally so.

It had felt like no one around me understood the pain I was in. Mum hadn’t mated with my father. They’d been coasting along when she got pregnant with me, and they’d stayed together for a while until he didn’t want to anymore. Kai and George were both unmated, my psychologist’s status unknown to me. Even Bren didn’t get it. He’d had happy years with Rhys, whereas I only had hours before it was all ripped away from me. But as I stared at Rhys, I saw a perfect mirror of that pain, one that only we shared. Which is why I did what came next, or so I told myself.

“Get him in the shower,” I said to Brendan.

“No,” Rhys replied.

“Fuck you, mate,” Brendan said with a snap. “If I’m gonna follow anyone’s orders now, it’s hers. You gotta problem with that?” They stared at each other for a moment. “Didn’t think so. Team Cyn all the fucking way. It’s the right one to be on, y’know. You could switch.”

Rhys snorted at that, then pulled away.

“I don’t need you to help me shower.”

“Yeah?” I replied. “Lift your arms above your head, like you were gonna wash your armpits.” He moved his arms but didn’t get far, whichever of the many injuries hurting him causing the muscles to seize. “In the shower, and try not to make a big song and dance act about it. It doesn’t have to mean anything. We’re just helping you out.”

That had his head jerking up again, that same mule stubborn look on his face. His jaw tightened, the muscle flexing there, before he nodded.

We followed him into the en suite bathroom, helped him strip down, and got under the water when the problems soon became apparent.

“He needs help,” I said.

“I’ll do it.” Bren moved in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips and then pulling away. He jerked that fucking jersey up and over his head, then hooked down his rugby shorts, looking back at me with a sly look when he stepped out of them. I pushed myself away from the doorway as he got into the cubicle, returning to the bedroom to clean shit up.

Tidying up your estranged mate’s misery bedroom was a weird experience, let me tell you. The omega wanted to transform this into a little den, complete for the three of us, full of soft fabrics and sweet smells. Anything other than this. And Cyn? She was forced to tally the impact running out on my mate had on Rhys.

The congealed food, the dirty glasses, bloody tissues, and other junk were shoved indiscriminately into a garbage bag found at the bottom of an empty bin and then dumped outside the door. So were the stinky sheets and other bed linen, though my fingers cramped around a pillowcase. The cotton was nearly threadbare from use, the scent of him harsh and intense, and if I pocketed it, it’d fill my bedroom with his scent. Defiantly, I shoved it with everything else and then threw that in the hallway as well, for staff to deal with. I then sprayed some body spray around, filling the room with the smell of Old Spice rather than pain.

I’d done it, eradicated all the things that stabbed at me, leaving a sparse but clean room behind, making me feel much more in control, right up until I returned to the bathroom. Because there was Rhys, standing with his arm against the wall, his hair in his face as the water poured over him, his ribs shaking in a very familiar way as Bren worked hard to get him clean.

Fuck.

I didn’t want this. I didn’t want his pain or Bren’s or mine, and I was angry I had to put up with that, but it was a different anger now. Before, I’d wanted to scorch them all to the ground, a nuclear bomb kind of heat. Now, I was a ballistic missile, arrowing in on its target, ready to expose all the fucking bullshit this place ran on.

Right after my mate stopped crying.

He pulledhimself together not long afterwards, towelling himself dry and taking the ibuprofen that I handed him, along with a bottle of water. He swallowed them down, wrapping a dry towel around his waist before staggering out into the bedroom.

“You didn’t have to clean up.” Rhys surveyed the revised room and then nodded. “But thanks.”

“That’s OK. You’re gonna do something for me in return.” That got his attention, those pale blue eyes showing every shift of mood, the ticking of his brain palpable. “Brendan, is there a comb or brush in here?”

The other man went digging through the drawers and then pulled out a comb missing a few teeth, putting it in my hand.

“Get on the bed and put your head on my lap,” I ordered.

“What?” Some heat crept back into Rhys’ voice. “You haven’t spoken to me, haven’t been able to even look at me for fucking days, and now what? You’re going to comb out my hair? Give that here.”

A big hand asked for the comb, but I just shook my head.

“No.”

“Gimme the fucking comb, Cyn. You don’t want to do this, don’t want to touch me, be in the same room as me, be anywhere near me. Bren, in his misguided attempts to make it all better, no doubt told you a sob story. Fuck the story, fuck the comb, fuck all of it. You don’t want me.”

“Get on the bed, Rhys, and do as you’re told.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

His alpha command filled the whole damn room, rumbling like a thundercloud, ready to rain bloody hell down on the lot of us, but I stood firm. I’d seen my way past more than this, I could face down Rhys.

“Yes. Or tell me why not.”

“Because…” His voice started to break, making me reconsider what I was doing. “Because…” His chin jerked up, his teeth clamping down as he looked at me through a mat of wet, knotty hair. “Because you’ll touch me, when that’s all I’ve fucking dreamed of since the day you left. Since the day you walked in here. Since the first time I scented you in that damn forest. Then you’ll walk out again, back to your house, your life, your support network, and away from me, as you should. You didn’t need to come back. You shouldn’t have, love.”

He shook his head hard, both of us feeling the droplets of water from that.

“You should run as far as you can, because there’s only so long I can hold him back. I go downstairs to the fights they hold in the basement and let strangers punch me into unconsciousness until someone picks me up here and then drops me on the bed, then I do it all over again. That’s what it takes to keep the alpha from breaking down your door, scooping you up and out of your bed, and running with you as far as I can until no one can find us. Until you love me again.”

You could tell he’d been fighting a lot, not due to the mess of bruises all over his body or the swollen, split knuckles, but because of this. He had a devastating right hook and he managed to lay me out flat, but I was done getting thrown off balance by these alphas.

“Alpha.” I said the word with all of the pain, the anger, the frustration, and yeah, the need that boiled up inside me. “Your omega requests that you lie down on the bed and let me comb that fucking mop of hair until it’s smooth again. Then you’ll tell me all of the things you should’ve told me from the start, before you made me yours.”