Good Girl by Sam Hall
Chapter 31
For any other mated pair, this would be a sweet, sensual thing, but for us, it was a minefield. There were the considerable bruises on his face to navigate, and then there were our combined emotional ones. I’d demanded he do this, the mess of his hair somehow a personal affront I couldn’t let go, but then we were settling down on the stripped bed like two strangers.
I saw the pain on his face as he lay down, but it was nothing until he moved farther up. I hurt him, putting his head on my lap, far more than anyone in the basement had. I frowned and brought my focus to the here and now, raising the comb, starting at the ends of his hair, grabbing them in my hand and then working it through until they lay smooth. Then I moved higher and higher, until finally, I was able to get the comb through from root to tips in easy strokes. I let my hands do that for some time afterwards as I tried to process what was going down.
I hated seeing him hurt. Every bruise, every laceration, felt like one on me, and when Bren got some antiseptic cream and started applying it to the worst cuts, I sent him a grateful look. Maybe he felt the same way. Maybe. There was only one way I’d find out. It wasn’t my fault what had happened. I didn’t force Rhys to hurt himself, and it wasn’t my job to heal him. Omegas tended towards co-dependency, but I wasn’t gonna delve into that, otherwise emotionally, I’d be tugged and tied up by the actions of people I had no control over, but I didn’t like it. I wanted to find a way through this and guessing hadn’t gotten me very far, so I said the words no man wanted to hear.
“We need to talk.”
“Finally…”
Rhys didn’t open his eyes, a kind of peace settling over him through the process once he’d accepted this would happen, but he breathed the word out and we heard him.
“I wasn’t ready beforehand. I literally could not hear what you guys had to say. I couldn’t process it, verify it, digest it. You could have dumped all your guilt-ridden shit on me, and it just would’ve hurt me more,” I snapped in response, setting the comb down on the bed. His hand rose up, gingerly, taking mine in his.
“I know. I didn’t want to, but I worked it out. It took a whole lot of beatdowns, but no one accused me of being the brains in the outfit.”
His voice was quiet, strained, and Bren moved closer to me, sitting at my back, not touching, but a silent presence.
“How much did you know?” I asked.
I was going to start small, ease into things, but in the end, that was what I needed to know. How much had been behind that sad but not surprised look?
“If you want to know, I’m gonna tell you all of it. Not that it’ll excuse me or anyone, but…I can’t tell one part of the story without the other. I just can’t.”
“You want to tell me the whole story of your pack?” I asked incredulously.
“No.” A long sigh. “Just the parts that lead us here. That OK?”
Rhys looked so tired when he opened his eyes, but I turned to Brendan. He shrugged, making clear it was my decision.
“OK, tell me your story.”
“Marcus was always fucking smart,like freakishly so. I heard the counsellors at the alpha camp talking about it. He ran that place, and when the three of us banded together, that drew his attention. I dunno why, but he wanted in. He wooed every single one of us, and then the three of us as a group. The golden boy who smiles down at you? We were always going to cave, and we did, which set the tone for the pack going forward.”
Rhys tried to get comfortable, putting his hands on his stomach, but the pain soon stopped that.
“We wanted out of the camp, and we were not long afterwards. There was a scandal with some of the counsellors getting caught abusing some of the kids, then the funding for the place was revoked and no one wanting to touch a tainted project like that. We were returned home, Marcus, Bren, and me all living within biking distance of each other. Then there was Orion.
“It was much harder for us to keep in touch, so Marcus worked his magic. Straight out of school, we started working for the gangs, bringing in money doing low-level shit. Mostly just carrying mysterious packages from one place to another, but we made enough cash to survive and finally rent a shitty place out in the real crappy area of town.
“Orion had a car, so he came to see us every day, slept over more days than not, and gave us what money he had. That fascinated Marcus, that a family could have so much money, they could afford to throw it around like that. Putting big sums into the hands of a recently graduated teenager without a second thought? That was the one thing Marcus never had—money. Didn’t realise it at the time, but that’s when the plans started to hatch.”
He opened his eyes now, staring into mine, his thumb moving over the hand he now held.
“We went to the clubs a lot, carrying parcels, using the gang names to get us into places we shouldn’t, mostly at Marcus’ behest. We wanted to have a good time, party, find our omega, and settle down, all vague pipe dreams, but Marcus?” Rhys shook his head. “It was always something much bigger. I’d met plenty of blokes who insisted on telling you about their big plans, but not Marcus. He kept quiet about it all, cards always close to his chest. He watched and he waited, us fucking around, him getting an impromptu apprenticeship in running a club. Then he started putting the plan into action.”
I watched Rhys’ eyes roam the room, taking in the bland features like they meant something.
“He got us taking riskier and riskier jobs, because they were higher paying ones, which most leaders do. No risk, no pay off, but people always got caught. Not us. There’d be two almost exact same jobs, and he’d insist we take A, while the boys doing B were arrested mid deal and slung into prison. People started talking about us, about our weird fucking luck. Big bosses sought us out, giving us bigger and bigger jobs, and the money really started flowing, but we never saw that much of it. We had enough for food, a roof over our heads, and a fucking good time, but no excess. We didn’t shoot our earnings into our veins or snort it. It just…went into some mysterious pool that Marcus controlled, and that’s what he used for seed money. He bought this place when it was derelict, the home of junkies and rats mostly, but it had great bones, having been a beautiful club nearly eighty years ago. And then he did a deal with the devil.”
Rhys went to sit up, but my hand snapped out, holding him where he was.
“Benson Ratcliffe.” His fangs flashed at that name. “I’m pretty sure Marcus thought he had him stitched up, and maybe he does. There’s no way Orion should be running with us or wearing our marks. A bit of youthful indiscretion could be overlooked, but this? Wedding himself to us for eternity, that was too permanent to ignore. I remember when we did it, when we marked each other as ours. Marcus had begun the renovations here, starting with this level, and we were standing in that room.”
“The one you shared.”
“The one that stands empty, will stand empty forever now. We were there, looking down at this brand-new bed, big enough for the four of us, and…”
His face lightened, something peaceful settling there.
“Orion was so brave, so beautiful. He knew exactly what he was throwing away, what it would mean for his future, and he chose us anyway. I thought that meant something, that by doing this one thing that alphas didn’t do, we would be different.”
Rhys shook his head, and the light died just as quickly as it had arrived.
“This place runs on Ratcliffe’s money. We make a shit ton, but it took a lot to get it built, even more to get it started. We’re making headway on the repayments, I think. I, stupidly, always left the business side of things to Marcus. I worked the door or the floor when needed, turfed out anyone who was a dickhead, and then retired at the end of the night with those I loved. It was simple, and we were happy.”
“Not quite,” Brendan said.
“No,” Rhys said with a nod. “The better you do, the more you want. It was me that pushed for an omega. That was what we needed to finalise our pack. Financial success, stability, people to love, and an omega to bring us closer. I’d see one of us get drawn to some omega or another, go sniffing around him or her, be pulled into their web, and dragged away from us. For this to work long-term, we had to have an omega for the whole pack. We’d talked about it when we were young but never found anyone who wanted more than a night of that. Something wild, something kinky to remember when you were old and grey, but a bond?”
“We got close with Jean,” Brendan said.
“We thought we did. Jean was the last omega we tried things with. He’d fallen into bed with us one night, liked the multiple orgasms enough to tip into rampancy. He was hard, we were hard, and we just couldn’t stop fucking.”
My hand tightened in Rhys’ hair, drawing his focus to me.
“We thought that intensity, having that kind of sexual compatibility, had to mean something.”
“It did,” Brendan said. “It meant we all got off a lot. He never promised anything, was fairly clear about not catching feelings, but we’d all said that at some point. We thought we were in familiar territory.”
“I should’ve known what he was, what he was after.” Those pale blue eyes studied mine. “I’d scented you, searched for you, trawled that forest for months afterward but never caught you.”
“Mum didn’t let me go back to the forest for some time. She was too afraid I’d stumble across some feral alpha,” I said.
“She was right.” His smile wasn’t a particularly happy one, but it bared his teeth. “I’m not sure I would’ve been able to take no for an answer. All those sappy fucking movies about alphas scenting their mates for the first time and falling madly in love at first sniff. It wasn’t love, not then, but…” He reached up, pushing past the pain to stroke my face. “When Jean turned on us, stole a bunch of money and drugs and sold us out to the cops, I wasn’t surprised. He was never our omega. He was Benson’s.”
“Benson’s?” I said with a start.
“Orion’s dad had sent him to us, asked him to play at mating with the pack so he could get the dirt. His plan was to have us thrown in prison, get Orion out with a smack on the wrist by the judge he golfs with, like rich alphas do, and no more inappropriate alpha mates. Orion would go through a period of mourning, then present himself back in high society, find his omega, and all would be well. But Marcus was never going to let that happen. Evidence went missing, cases were dismissed, and Jean ended up with a broken neck, his body found down at the pier. I don’t think that was Marcus. So Benson still had the same problem.”
“He has a whole bunch of problems,” I replied, and then proceeded to share what I knew.
“So that’s what it was.” Rhys laughed long and hard, but none of it sounded pleasant. There was something desperate and bitter about it.
“What was what?” I asked.
“You think this was some whole conspiracy, but it wasn’t. You give us way more credit.” Rhys rolled up and away from me, walking back and forth, just wrapped in a towel. “Orion had a plan, I knew that. He was getting drawn back home more and more, coming back angrier and more desperate, and Marcus? It’s always wheels within wheels with him.”
“So what was the deal?” I asked, pushing, even though I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know the answer.
“Orion wanted you with us. Firstly, to appease his father, but also… He thought the easiest thing was to keep you at arm’s length and just play at being together, as you first discussed. That shit dissolved so fucking quick, I dunno if it ever was a serious plan. You were perfect for him. O hates omegas that slobber all over the Ratcliffe name, using him to get to it. A blue blood princess would’ve left him just as cold. Instead, you’re you.”
It felt like this was the first time Rhys’ eyes really softened, his defences crumbling, even his pain and anguish put to one side. There was just this—the man who’d marked me as his.
“A girl who can attend posh outings with Orion without embarrassing him, who can bring something to an alliance with a great name, but also a girl who can go and train at how to fight with weapons with Bren. Who’d meet Charlene and Simon and see them for the fucking beautiful people they are. Someone who’d come and play here in this cesspool, bold as brass, but would curl up like a kitten in our arms, trusting in a way no club rat would. Someone who’d see four bloody alphas who were held together by bonds of love, bad decisions, and just plain habit sometimes, and be brave enough to step in the space left between us.” He paused, swallowing before continuing. “I scented you in the forest that day. It was always going to be you, Cyn. Always.”
And just when the pain of staring into his eyes got too much, he shook his head and looked away.
“Orion’s dad needs your mother’s intellectual property. Who was warning Cyn’s mum of what was to come well and truly before she saw Orion at that party?”
“Fuck, it’s Marcus,” Brendan said in wonder.
“Always Marcus,” Rhys hissed. His eyes were wide and unseeing and focussed on the blank wall. “I’ve always wondered what we bound ourselves to, who we brought into the fold. We were just kids playing before he came along, and then…”
“Give me your phone,” I snapped at Brendan, holding out a hand for it to be slapped down on my palm. He told me the passcode so I could unlock it, then I scrolled through the contacts until I found the number. I thumbed the call button and listened to the electronic buzzes until he picked up.
“Cyn.”
Just that, my name, before I’d even taken in a breath. My eyes flicked around the room, looking for cameras, something to tell me how the fuck Marcus knew who was calling.
“I’m not bugging you or tracking you, if that’s where your mind is jumping,” he purred, that same arch feline voice. “I never need that. I just always know.”
“Know what?” I growled.
“That you’re in Rhys’ room right now, having cared for his boo-boos, your heart aching for all the damage people have done to him while secretly wishing to add a few bruises of your own. It’s inevitable, Cyn. You’re mated, he loves you, and you love him. You had every right to be angry, it just wasn’t directed at the right target. I don’t include them in my plans, but I do make clear what I’m about to do. I told you, Cyn, that if you stuck around, you’d need to choose my mates. They love you and need you.” His cool veneer cracked slightly at that. “And the stupid fucking thing is you love and need them too.” A hiss of a breath. “Love them. Love him.”
“And what’re you going to do?”
“Keep all of you safe. You never like my methods, so I protect you from that. You don’t get the thrill from seeing the game in its entirety that I do.”
“Game?” I was up and off the bed, the fear that had iced me through transmuted into a burning rage. “This is my fucking life!”
“I know. I’ve seen almost all of it, the significant bits anyway. You’re thinking you shouldn’t have come to that forest that day. You’re probably right. I’m hoping you won’t regret it by the end of this, but that’s always the bit that’s up in the air. The bit I like the most.”
He sounded almost wistful at that.
“But you did, and your scent tied you to my pack. Rhys searched for you for weeks but reconciled himself to that fact he would never find you, forgetting you, pushing your scent to the back of his mind. I admire his ability to do that.” A short pause. “But me, I can never let anything go or forget anything. It’s all there, all of the time—every memory, every action, every consequence, all linked up together.”
“You sound insane. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do and I’m aware of that, which perhaps disqualifies your diagnosis. Time will tell. Maybe I should chat to that psychologist of yours? The new one seems very good.”
I’d been doing so well, holding it together, sorting through the ground zero created by mating with Rhys, but fuck if my fingers didn’t go limp. The phone fell to the floor, and I went with it, Brendan sweeping me up in his arms as a result.
Was this meant to happen? Was Marcus manipulating us? Were we ever supposed to be a pack without his machinations?
“She wants to run,” Rhys said grimly. “I told you.”
“She’s not running,” Brendan assured me, not him. “Cyn’s tougher now. Nothing’s going to keep her down.”
So why was I lying in his arms, staring at the ceiling, trying to see the game Marcus spoke of?