Page 41 of Coveted By the Alpha Pack

The car door opens and I turn to face the threat emerging. “Darlin?” That voice, it sounds like my Ethan.

Side stepping I move to get a better look and it looks like my Ethan. “Daddy…” Ashina says, then runs past me. My jaws snap, but not in time to grab her. She barrels into the man’s arms and the haze of anger slowly fades.

I continue to stare until the thrumming of my heart beat in my ears settles. My wolf releases me and I fall to my hands and knees in the dirt. Tears stream down my face as I stare at them, hitting the earth. “Darlin? Please look at me.” Ethan’s voice sounds as broken as I feel.

Reluctantly, I lift my gaze to meet his, and it feels like my heart is shattering all over again. The weight of what I’ve been through presses down on me, threatening to crush me under its unbearable heaviness. I was ready to do anything, even kill, to protect my children from harm.

“I think I need help.” the words escape my lips in a whisper, barely audible even to myself. My bottom lip trembles as I bite down on it, trying to steady myself.

Lowering my head, I feel the weight of every moment, every trauma crashing over me like a relentless wave. The memories of the abuse I endured at the hands of my ex flood my mind, each one a fresh wound reopening in my soul. And then, finally, the moment I took matters into my own hands and ended his reign of terror once and for all—it broke something inside of me, something I’m not sure can ever be fully repaired.

Ethan kneels beside me and wraps his muscular arms around me. The minute he hauls me against him, the dam breaks. Tears roll in earnest down my cheeks as years of pain finally surface. “Con, make the call.” Ethan nuzzles my cheek and kisses me several times. “We all need help at some point, Darlin. There’s no shame in needing it. I went for a long time after I realized you were my mate and you were taken from me.”

Ethan admitting he had seen a therapist made me raise my head and look at him. He’s one of the strongest males I know. He just nods at me and kisses my temple. “I want to see your doctor. If you trust them, then I do too.” Drawing in a shaky breath, I lower my head to rest on his shoulder.

The tension in the bond seems to ease hearing me accepting help. Hell, I was starting to scare myself. I hadn’t admitted to the guys about losing chunks of time from my day. Who knows what my wolf has been doing at that time.

Chapter 25

Conrad

-Breathe Again- Pop Evil-

Sitting in the waiting room of the therapist’s office, I feel a knot tighten in my stomach, twisting with anticipation and anxiety. The air is heavy with the scent of disinfectant, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee from a nearby cafe. My fingers fidget nervously in my lap, betraying my inner turmoil.

As I glance around the room, the muted colors of the walls seem to close in on me, suffocating and oppressive. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead adds to the sense of unease casting harsh shadows that dance along the floor.

My thoughts drift to Grace, my heart aching with concern for her. I can’t help but wonder what demons she’s facing in that therapist’s office, what memories she’s dredging up from the depths of her psyche. The thought of her seeking solace in the presence of Ethan or Nicolai, their comforting warmth, and strength, brings a bittersweet comfort.

I imagine her running her fingers through their fur, seeking refuge in the tangible reassurance of their presence. It’s a small comfort, but one that I cling to as I wait for her to emerge from that daunting room, hoping and praying that she’ll find some measure of peace within its walls.

The soft hum of the air conditioning fills the room, mingling with the gentle rustle of papers as the therapist prepares to update us. My senses sharpen as he explains Grace’s actions, his voice steady and reassuring.

The image of Barrett and Lorcan flashes through my mind, their faces etched with concern as they try to understand Grace’s struggles. Yet, beneath their worry, I sense a glimmer of hope, a shared determination to support her through this journey.

As the therapist delves into the intricacies of made wolves, I catch a faint hint of pine mingling with his scent, a reminder of his own shifter nature. His knowledge and expertise wash over me, filling me with a newfound sense of understanding and empowerment.

With each passing session, I can see the subtle shifts in Grace’s demeanor, her posture straightening, her gaze steadier. It’s as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, allowing her to breathe a little easier with each passing day. We’re only a month in, but already I can sense the seeds of progress taking root, blossoming into hope for a brighter future.

Ethan’s presence got her to admit last session she was losing chunks of time. The therapist said that was more than likely during times she couldn’t emotionally handle what was happening.

Today’s session Griffin is in there with her and he’s refusing to shift. Occasionally, the sound of raised voices filters through the walls, followed by an eerie silence that hangs like a heavy blanket. My phone buzzes incessantly with Ethan’s urgent inquiries, each notification adding to the weight of the atmosphere. Separating them for this session might not have been the wisest choice. The repercussions reverberate through the room, echoing in every strained breath and clenched fist.

The door to the therapist’s office opens, and he smiles at me. “Mind joining us?” I stand quickly and follow the doctor into the room. I see exactly what the problem is. Grace is sitting there with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at Griffin.

“Baby girl, what happened?” I sit in the armchair across from Grace and Griffin in front of the doctor. This is the part of the session where he watches how the family dynamics shift when different bond mates enter the session midway through.

“Griff is being a dick. I want him to shift so I can snuggle and he won’t do it.” Grace pouts at me and tilts her head, expecting me to yield to her desires.

Part of the pack reconditioning is that we cannot give into her whims. “Baby girl, you know me shifting will not help anything.” I say gently yet firmly, establishing my boundaries like I am supposed to do. “You can, however, sit in my lap and I will hold you while you talk.” I offer her an alternative that still meets her need for security. It’s a tool to get her to settle back into her place without causing more damage through raw dominance like with the initial bites.

Grace tries pouting and tilts her head several times before she moves and climbs into Griffin’s lap. Not exactly what we were going for, but it went in a better direction than it was going. Grace opens up more about the emotional abuse she endured, and Griffin and I both had to suppress our urges to growl. If she hadn’t already killed Hunter, we would gladly do it slowly to make him suffer for what he had done.

As she delves into how his treatment of her changed when she delivered a baby girl instead of the son he wanted. Her body shudders with each word. The therapist notices her trembling and motions for Griffin to comfort her. She can feel his reassuring hand on her shoulder, grounding her in the present moment.

It’s now that we hear why Grace was afraid when she was pregnant. He had started shopping for boy things the minute he found out she was pregnant. Each tiny onesie and baseball cap felt like a weight pressing down on her, as if he was trying to will the son into being with each purchase.

Grace’s demeanor shifts sharply as she discusses Ashina’s birth. When she speaks of the post-delivery, her body tenses. I notice the subtle twitching of her fingers, as if claws are trying to emerge but then retract with her stress.

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