Page 47 of Bound By Obsession

There’s one feed that catches my eye—a shot out the front, facing the dirt path beyond Huxley’s SUV. Someone’s standing there.

A small shriek escapes me. The figure is tall, disguised in a black hoodie and shadowed by the late afternoon light. Even without the hood pulled up, I doubt I would be able to make out their face through the grainy resolution of the camera. My heart thuds wildly in my chest, an uneasy rhythm syncing with the sudden surge of panic.

Who the hell is that?My mind races. I can’t tear my eyes away from the screen, every instinct in me screaming to lock myself in the safe room and never leave. But I can’t leave my boys out there. Preparing to run through the house screaming, I watch as the figure shifts slightly, stepping closer to the SUV. Their posture is tense, deliberate, like they’re scouting for something—or someone. The minutes stretch out in painful silence. I watch through tremors of panic as they touch Huxley’s car, doing something at the back, and then turn and walk away. I track them all the way down the path until they’re out of view, but there’s no sense of relief.

I sit down heavily in the chair at the desk, my mind racing. I grip the edges of the metal in an attempt to steel myself, although my knees are knocking together. Think, Avery, and breathe. Breathing is good.

I’m in a replica of the safe room Cathy used to take me to. A place she wanted me to be familiar with and comfortable staying in. She’s been conditioning me to hide for so long, preparing me for the day Fredrick was released from prison. And she was right to be concerned, given that she was killed not even six weeks later. I cast my mind back to just before that dark time.

Cathy had been traveling more, apparently needing to fulfill a work contract on a deadline. Nixon was present in her absence, spending as much quality time with me as possible but whenever she was due back, he would leave. I remember thinking it was odd but it wasn’t unheard of. I frown, wondering why I hadn’t picked up on there being heightened security around the grounds. They knew. They all knew and as always, kept me sheltered. Kept me naive.

I’m not naive anymore. I’ve learnt that darkness thrives when we mistake loneliness for strength, allowing it to root itself in the cracks of our hearts, unseen but ever present. The Hughesconditioned me to be a fragile princess, hiding away in a tower. They told me that’s where I’m happiest. But they’re wrong.

I’ve broken free, spread my wings and flown into the love of four incredibly damaged men. Their traumas are as raw as my own, and somewhere between patching each other up, past wounds have started to heal. The Shadowed Souls don’t treat me as something weak and breakable. They’ve taught me that I’m headstrong. That I’m their Little Swan.

Switching off the monitors, I leave the safe room and push the panel closed with a click. I don’t pass anyone as I descend the stairs, hearing Garrett and Huxley still speaking in low, hushed tones. Avoiding the kitchen, I remain close to the wall, silently putting one socked foot in front of the other. Somehow without raising suspicion, I need to get outside.

What if it was one of Fredrick’s men putting a bug on the car, or even worse,a bomb? I can’t let the guys use the truck until I’m certain but equally, I’ve decided against sharing the safe room’s existence for the time being. Should there be an attack on the house, I can’t depend on Wyatt not blabbing its location. He’d do whatever it takes to return to Rachel, even if that means getting rid of me.

“Fine!” Garrett growls, smacking his hand against the corner. I’m silent beside the Christmas tree, gradually slinking behind it. The back door is thrown wide open, punctuated by Huxley’s sigh.

“You can’t run from this forever, Gare.” Following Garrett outside, I take my chance at dashing out the front door and down the steps. Reckless, I know, ending up alone when I know there’s a stranger somewhere in these woods. In my defense, I vowed no one else would get hurt because of me so in theory, if there is a bomb on the back of the SUV, the guys will just have to hate my chargrilled corpse.

I feel every small stone through the socks, the dirt part unforgiving as I hobble closer. Briefly pausing myself by the headlight, I all but throw myself around the corner, already winced for an inevitableboom. Instead, I just look like an idiot, cracking one eyelid to see an envelope tucked into the rear wiper. My name is written in a familiar cursive and my heart judders for a whole different reason. It’s him. He was here.

My Dearest Avery,

I know I shouldn’t be sitting here, writing the words I’ll never have the courage to speak aloud. I know I should leave you to move on with those you are now surrounded with. But I also know, I don’t only write these letters for you. They are for me too.

There’s a peculiar comfort in transferring my thoughts into ink, watching it dry on the paper and become permanent. There’s an intimacy in knowing that you will read these words and finally know the truth, even if it will forever remain an unspoken vow between us.

You have always been my light. My life has been cloaked in shadows for so long, the kind of darkness that threatens to swallow a man whole. It creeps in around the edges,suffocating joy, erasing hope. Before I knew you, I wandered in that endless night, searching for something—anything—that would make it worth continuing. And then you appeared.

I recall the exact moment I first saw you. Huge blue eyes on an angelic face, blonde wisps that refuse to be tamed. You will never know the power you hold, how your mere presence pulls me from the abyss. Every time I catch a glimpse of your smile, hear your laugh—it’s as if the weight I carry lifts, if only for a fleeting moment.

I wonder, sometimes, how someone so full of life can be so unaware of the effect they have on the world. You radiate warmth, kindness, and something else—something that is yours alone. Something that emanates from you when you dance, a sense of power invisible to the eye but has the force to bring grown men to their knees.

I have spent years observing you, waiting for the right moment to step forward. But every time the thought crosses my mind, fear claws at me. What if my presence taints that light? What if, when you finally see the real me, you turn away? I could not bear that. I wouldn’t survive it.

And so, I will remain as the man who has loved you from afar, who has cherished every moment you were unaware of. Every letter I send is a piece of me, a confession of love that I am too afraid to speak aloud. They have become the only way I know to reach you. In these letters, I am brave. In these letters, I am whole.

I am not perfect. I am flawed, and my life is far from easy. But you have given me reason to live, to keep fighting through the darkness, because somewhere out there, you exist. And for that alone, my heart beats.

I do not ask for you to love me in return. All I ask is that you allow me to share your light from a distance, and know that in you, I found my salvation.

Always Yours,

XO

Trying to catch Garrett’s eye, he continues to ignore me, just as he has during our entire supply run. Huxley drives his SUV with practiced ease, knowing the route by heart now. Even before a guy at the supermarket counter gave me a strange look for tucking a strand of Garrett’s hair behind his ear, he was tense. Uncomfortably quiet. In my head, there’s no issue. I don’t give a shit what people say or think about me, it can’t be worse than what I already think about myself.

We return to a gloomy looking beach house, no visible lights on. I had no qualms about leaving Wyatt behind with just Dax as mediator between the two others. Avery has spent all day in the library whereas Wyatt has been a ghost since we rescued him the night before last, other than the occasional crashing and smashing inside his room.

No one said withdrawal is easy, especially since I stole his pill stash. It was an impulsive decision in an effort to hide them from the others, but it quickly became apparent that I’m not a suitable candidate for such a task. I couldn’t confess to anyone that I’d caved and taken one, wanting to feel the release he was so desperately seeking.

Lest to say, drugs are not the answer for a panic-attack sufferer. I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest, only just managing to crawl into Huxley’s bathroom before someone found me. I wish it had been anyone other than Avery.

Huxley is quiet as he parks, picking up on the tension in the back seat. The three of us empty the bags from the trunk, lining them onto the kitchen island. Hux does all he can to keep his distance, his head in the refrigerator as he organizes and makes room for the items we pass him. All the while, the other male in the room seems to be absorbing all of the air out of the room.

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