Page 49 of Choose the Bears

But I did everything right. They told me to stay with the guys in their swanky facility that night, and I did. I didn’t go home, to my own bed, to my own stuff…

“What did he do?” I asked Asher, but when he didn’t answer instantly, I looked at Lucas, then Kyle when he reappeared.

“We don’t know,” Lucas replied. “A call must’ve come in last night.”

“I talked to the police attending the scene,” Asher replied, “then took a look around.”

His lips thinning, the hollows of his cheeks becoming more pronounced told me everything I needed to know, and yet it wasn’t enough.

“I need to see.” I jumped to my feet. “I need to see for myself.”

They’d told me to take everything I would miss if I left it behind and I had. We’d packed it all carefully, then moved it into my new place. The apartment I’d spent months saving for. The other night they secured it, helped me to make it mine. We’d sat around my table and Kyle had forced himself to eat dry Weet-Bix. None of that meshed with what Asher was telling me.

An hour or so later,I was walking up the steps to inspect the damage for myself.

Ursula had appeared with some clean clothes and helped me get dressed, the guys insisting on driving me over. I sat theresilently in the back seat, Lucas by my side, and watched the streets whizz by. Then when we parked out the front, I caught sight of several white vans with the logos of a cleaning company stencilled on them.

Only to discover a team was already hard at work.

The apartment had smelled musty, of old wood and new bleach, when I first moved in, but who would’ve thought that would be something I’d miss. Better than this. As soon as I walked in the door, I was hit by the stench of human piss, seeing piles of my clothes, my books scattered across the apartment. A thin, animal whine of pain escaped my lips as I watched strangers move through the rooms, picking up every single one of my worldly possessions. Clothes were ferried into the laundry, the whirr of the machine telling me it was at work to clean all residue from them, but my books. My mouth worked as I staggered closer.

Mike hated my books, hated me reading because that took my attention away from him. I’d been forced to hide them, pretend they were about completely different things, the idiot jealous of the romantic heroes I read about. But through all that, I’d managed to preserve them, even if the pages yellowed with age. In one night, Phil had ruined the lot of them, tossing them around the room in a fit of pique, then fishing out his cock to piss on them.

“Phone.”

I barked the order like a surgeon might on a medical drama, but when I held out a hand, one was placed in my palm. I was told the code to unlock it, then punched the numbers in. I remembered Mike’s phone number by heart and I was willing to bet he wouldn’t even remember the start of mine.

“Y’ello.”

His nonchalant greeting set my teeth on edge.

“Why the fuck did your dickhead mate break into my apartment and piss all over my stuff?”

Chapter 26

Lucas

I hated this. I fucking hated every second of this morning, and part of me was desperate for it to end. Imogen had strode up the stairs with a head full of steam, then… It was like she was collapsing in on herself the minute she got through the front door. The cleaners and their clinical-looking overalls, the stink of the chemicals, the wreckage of the door frame, our door and locks still pristine, but worse, it was the stink of him.

That fucking arsehole had violated our mate’s space.

He obviously didn’t see Imogen’s fragility, the way she worked so hard to construct a space all her own. He didn’t know how long she’d been working towards this very goal. That even though the place was old and shitty, it was perfect to her because it was hers. But it was the sound in her throat, low and keening, at the sight of her books that broke my heart. I knew the sound of loss when I heard it. It’s why I avoided the intake interviews, when new clients were admitted to headquarters, because I couldn’t take it. It was like other people’s pain became mine. Tearing at me with razor-sharp claws, chewing chunks from me with powerful jaws, it threatened to eat me alive, but I couldn’tback away from this. I stepped forward, mentally recording the name of each book, right as she made the call.

“Whaddya mean?” She didn’t have the phone on speakerphone, but I heard the nasally sneer of Mike’s voice loud and clear. “Phil didn’t do anything.”

“Phil…?” I was so proud of the poison in her tone. “I didn’t say it was Phil.”

“Had to be, didn’t it? I knew you were a fucking bitch, Imo, but?—”

“Imogen.” She barked out her name like a drill sergeant. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“Well, Imogen.” He sneered her name, right when I wanted to say it over and over like some kind of prayer. “You pressed charges against Phil. He’s on bail because of some dumb shit with his wife.”

When my hands clenched into fists, I saw the others did the same, because that ‘dumb shit’? It involved splitting his son’s lip, leaving a nasty array of bruises all across one side of his face.

“You didn’t need to get him in trouble with the cops,” Mike continued. “He’s a good bloke, standing up for me while you slut around?—”

I was crossing the floor, snatching the phone out of her hand before I even thought about it. Regret rushed through me at her shocked expression, but I put the phone to my ear.

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