Page 125 of Hard Knot

"I hate what I am," I whisper, the words barely audible over the shower's spray. "Hate that my body betrays me, that it wants things I can't…can’t control…”

The room spins as fever and exhaustion catch up with me, and I slump forward, only to be caught by strong arms that seem to grip me tenderly. I’m fighting for breath, darkness creeping into the edge of my vision, but I can’t just faint now.

I have to finish what I start…I have to just get this over with…

"I just wanted to be normal," I breathe, the confession lost in the sound of running water and my own ragged breathing. "Just wanted to be me...why is that so damn hard? Why…do I have to keep fighting for peace? That’s all I want. Peace!”

It’s a question I’ll never get the answer for, and maybe that’s what gives me the strength to lift my head enough to peer at the one who dared accept my abuse so silently.

When my eyes lock with theirs, I barely take in their face. I see the familiarities though, only I realize that a key piece is missing that has made his image so prominent from so many Alphas who project confidence in their looks and persona.

The scar along his right eye is deep, a permanent shade mixed of red and purple, making it seemingly impossible to open those lids that are closed shut. The mark looks intentional, almost as if someone enjoyed slashing the edge of a knife at the right spot, leaving a forever mark that clearly haunts its victim in his wake.

That single open eye is locked on me, but it’s not filled with any means of anger or pity for my confusion.

He looks at me with a level of understanding that I don’t comprehend, while any hints of sadness take shape as empathy — the sight almost feeling like a hallucination.

I finally realize who I’ve just spilled my life circumstances to.

Holmesovich…

Holmes…

The Alpha that probably hates my guts.

I acknowledge the very obvious bruise around his neck, realizing I could have choked him to death.

And he may have allowed me to do it…

“H…Hol…” I want to say his name,but realization daunts me as fast as the next wave of exhaustion takes over, making the darkness creep further into my line of vision, but I fight hard to stay conscious.

I…

I need to apologize.

Trying to open my mouth next feels like a newfound quest I’m desperate to complete as the time ticks down, but before my voice can squeak out, he presses a finger to my lip and shakes his head.

Confusion paints me, and I squint my eyes, thinking I must be hallucinating, but his hand ever so gently presses on my forehead, the touch soft and feels as though it has a hidden meaning I’m unable to unravel.

“I’m sorry, Abercrombie.”

For the first time in forever, I’ve heard an apology from an Alpha.

A genuine one, with no strings attached.

I don’t know how to respond, but maybe he’s not waiting for me to say a word. All he does is begin to move the wet strands along my face, observing me closely, even as his thumb trails on the bottom of my broken lip that I bit.

He doesn’t say another word, despite everything I’d just done, and when he’s made sure my hair is in a form of perfection in its wet glory, he very gently makes a sign, that I understand because I remember those classes of sign language.

Can. I. Hug. You.

My eyes widen, tears pooling almost immediately, and with my trembling lip and quivering body, I find the strength to nod ever so slightly.

To give him permission…while he gives me control.

When he pulls me into that hug, I soak in his warmth, realizing just how cold I am being drenched in the frigid water. This hug isn’t in a sense of lust or desire.

It’s purely out of compassion, his touch breaking that wall I knew was going to crumble with one final hit to my tired soul.

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