Chapter Fifty-Two

Havermouth, Present Time

“Don’t be afraid,” Patience said, as they paused outside a brick wall that seemed to go on forever. Iris wound down the window to check in with the security guard who stepped out to greet them. “You will not be harmed, Aislen.”

“What is it with you fuckers and abducting me?” Aislen replied through her teeth, her anger hiding her fear. “I told you that I’m not pressing charges. I just want to get into my car and get the fuck out of Havermouth.”

There was a knock at Patience’s window, surprising her.

“Fuck,” Aislen sighed.

Patience wound down her window. “Mr. Gale, return to your vehicle.”

“Constable Overly,” Heath’s eyes met Aislen’s. “You have something of mine. I can take it from here. No need to waste any more of your time.”

“Nice try,” Patience wound the window up.

Heath stepped back as the car moved forward, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, looking every inch the lawyer in his suit. Aislen twisted in the seat to look out the window and saw a sleek sports car pull up next to Heath, with Rhett driving and Cameron in the back seat. Heath got into the passenger seat as Rhett spoke to the security guard.

The gate remained open, and they followed the police car after only a brief pause, obviously expected.

The driveway opened to a grand estate of manicured garden beds and rolling lawns, centered by a double story mansion in Victorian style, with filigreed balconies and stunning decorative details. Two other buildings had been built to either side, framing the circular drive, one which looked like it had originally been a church, and the other a school.

Aislen chewed on her bottom lip. A part of her was relieved to see the Triquetra. They were fucked up, but she was also certain that they wouldn’t let her be seriously harmed. The building that the police car pulled up in front of, combined with the security guards at the gate, had an ominous feeling, as if it was somewhere that, once entered, she might not exit again. Pack headquarters, she thought.

She saw Rhett park his car, neatly, as Patience opened the door to let her out.

“Don’t run away now,” Patience joked, as Aislen limped across the paving stones towards the steps up into the grand home.

Cameron scooped her up into his arms. “What happened to your feet?” He asked, concern and relief combining with anger and regret in his thoughts. (Safe… That’s all that matters.)

She pressed her face into the curve of his neck and wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin, sating a craving that had been building within her ever since she had fled the river house. Damn it, Aislen, she thought, as tears fell. She was just so exhausted, sore, and hungry, all she wanted to do was eat until she forgot what it felt like to be so empty.

“Fuck, Aislen,” Cameron sighed heavily, burying his face into her hair. “We’ll sort this out, okay, and then we’ll go home… And it will be okay. Heath will make it okay.” Rhett and Heath flanked them. Aislen could sense them at either side, but neither man said anything.

The front door opened as they entered, and a woman sighed heavily. “Thank you, Patience and Iris. That will be all. You three,” her voice hardened, “have a lot of explaining to do. Come inside.”

Aislen looked up as the woman turned away, however she saw enough and recognized her voice from countless flashes of memories that she had caught from the Triquetra in the past to recognize that she was someone important and in authority over the pack.

Not good, she thought ruefully.

Cameron was worried, his anxiety adding to her own. He looked at Heath as they walked down the hallway, and she followed his gaze. A muscle worked in the corner of Heath’s jaw, and his back was ramrod straight, his shoulders back, his head up. (Alpha preparing for battle.) Cameron’s thought contained both admiration and sorrow.

The woman stepped into an office, the walls lined in cabinetry and bookshelves in a heavy dark mahogany and the curtains veiled with featherlight sheers. A silver tray sat on top of the leather-topped office table, with a graceful silver pot and delicate little demi coffee cup set ready, and a plate of biscuits.

“August is in Rideten,” the woman said, sitting down behind the desk. “Luckily for you,” she added, with a grim smile.

“We can explain,” Heath said, as he calmly took one of the winged-backed armchairs facing the desk. Cameron sat, still holding Aislen, and Rhett on the other side.

“I certainly hope so,” she arched an eyebrow. “I am very interested to see just how it is that Aislen Carter ended up in the emergency room of the hospital, soaking wet, bleeding, and covered in tattoos.” She snarled the last, her eyes lighting with a green/gold iridescent backlight as her wolf surfaced.

“Are you fucking stupid?” She demanded, without waiting for an answer. “You might as well have signed a confession note.”

Heath’s face settled into neutral, revealing nothing of his thoughts, his eyes narrowing fractionally.

“Confessing to what, Abigail?”

“You know precisely what,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I thought we had put this… foolishness… behind us five years ago.”

“Perhaps Cameron should leave with Aislen so we can speak freely,” Heath suggested, keeping his tone mild and reasonable.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s too late for that,” Abigail replied. “The cat, or wolf, is out of the bag, is it not, Mr. Gale? The Triquetra would not mark Aislen Carter in such a way as has been described to me, without intending to keep her, which logically means, revealing all to her.”

“Nothing has been said,” Heath lied perfectly… or did he? Aislen couldn’t remember what the Triquetra has said and what she had read from their thoughts, her exhaustion fogging her memory. They all had been so careful with their secrets, even after the Triquetra had learned about her gift. “No laws have been broken. It is not too late. Let Cameron take her from the room so that we can speak freely.”

Abigail leaned back in her seat and her eyes went to Aislen, her head tipping to the side as she evaluated her. She turned the same look to Heath, and he met it boldly. “Heath,” her voice softened.

“Abigail,” his voice, and reserve, broke. He gripped the arms of his chair as he leaned forward. “Please. We can make this work with her. If you would only… let us.”

“She is a disease on your bond,” she said gently. “That such a bond exists at all is… Like we have said from the beginning, it’s never happened before, not in our long, long history. It is not meant to happen at all, and it is a travesty that it has happened to you. You have our sincere and great pity for that. But add to it that her preference has always been blatant, and the effect that has had on the Triquetra’s stability… She is a diseased limb. You must amputate it to save the rest of the body.”

Heath swallowed hard. “We were making progress.”

“Oh, obviously,” she replied. “How many times did she attempt to flee you before she ended up in the river? She doesn’t want what you are seeking. She doesn’t want you.” There was a brutal finality to her delivery of “you,” which turned both Heath and Cameron’s eyes to Rhett, who swallowed and lowered his chin to his chest, letting his hair fall over his face.

“Let her go, then,” Rhett said, his voice so hoarse that it was almost a whisper. “Let her get on with her life. She doesn’t know anything, there is nothing that she could do to endanger us. Let her go, like you did five years ago.”

Abigail sighed heavily and turned her chair to look out the windows. “That wasn’t entirely successful, was it?”

“You said then,” Heath reminded her, “that if we let her go, and she came back, she was ours. She came back.”

“Not for you, though. She didn’t come back for you. She was very clear with her interactions with our town that she was only there until we bought her father’s house. She did not come back for the Triquetra. She came back despite the Triquetra.”

“That doesn’t change the verbal contract,” Heath said firmly. “If we let her go, and she came back, she was ours. Those were the words used five years ago. There were no conditions placed on it, nothing to say what the motivation behind her return had to be.”

She turned her head and looked at him. “And you remember the words verbatim.”

“It was important to me.”

“Excuse me,” Aislen decided that they’d talked over and about her for long enough. “I have no fucking idea what the fuck the two of you are talking about, but I’m exhausted and starving and absolutely fucking done with today. Does what I want matter at all? Because I can tell you what I want, and that’s to get into my fucking car and smoke my way out of this fucking town.”

“She is utterly uncontrollable,” Abigail complained.

“I had her under control five years ago,” Heath pointed out. “I can get her under control again.”

“You chose not to pursue charges, Ms. Carter,” Abigail turned back to where Aislen sat on Cameron’s lap. “You lied about how you ended up in the river.”

“Yep,” Aislen replied. “I lied.”

“Why?”

Aislen considered, pushing off Cameron’s chest and turning to face the other woman. “These psychos abducted me from my father’s house, pierced my nipples and clit and tattooed their initials on me,” she told Abigail, and saw the other woman inhale sharply through her nose in sympathy.

“I know, right?” Aislen nodded, knowing that Abigail was imaging having it done to her. “But they’re my psychos and always have been. They are terrible for my mental health, but fantastic for my sexual fantasies. So, I stay away from them because mind-blowing sex doesn’t erase the head-fuck. I miss them,” her voice caught on the words. “They haunt my dreams.

“But they are bad for me,” she met Abigail’s face. “Like how too much sugar rots your teeth. They rot my brain. I can’t tell what is real and what is not. A person can’t live like that. I don’t know why we are here or why I’m telling you this, but I am telling you – I need to go home now. I need to get in my car and go back to the real world, to crunchy, healthy fucks that don’t brain-fuck you after you come.” Like massive, bearded men who got off on being called “daddy,” she added to herself.

Abigail smiled, but her eyes were sad. “I believe you. I am sorry for it. Sorry for them. But I believe you. Alright,” she decided. “We are very sorry for the inconvenience Ms. Carter, and grateful that you will not be pressing charges against Mr. Gale, Mr. Edison, and Mr. Salem. You can take her to her car,” she said to Heath, holding his eyes for a long moment, “and say goodbye. As Ms. Carter has said, she’s going to go home now, and home is not here. Perhaps the Triquetra will find conclusion in this which will enable you to finally consider other options, whilst you are young and able to do so.”

“Thank you,” Heath said, and rose to his feet.

“Mr. Gale,” she rose with him. “You know that there is another option.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But, as has been discussed, no one understands how these things work. If we, as you suggested, use that method to amputate the limb, we might sever all four.”

“I really am sorry,” she walked around the desk and put her hand on his shoulder. “So very, very sorry.”