Page 107 of Elas

“I’m not suggesting you’ve done anything wrong, Elas,” he says with an uncharacteristic softness. “And I’m not implying August feels that way, either. He’s a medic. Used to working with his hands and beingneeded.”

“He is needed. Of course he’s fucking needed,” I argue, and Ronan’s patience wanes.

“Would you let me finish?” he snaps, and I clamp my teeth together until they ache, glaring at him as he continues. “August is a helper, Elas. He needs to make a difference.”

“He wasn’t making a difference at Glaston. He wasn’t doing a damn thing there because they didn’t want him.Theytook him for granted, Ronan. Not me. Never fucking me.”

“Hewasmaking a difference, though, Elas.”

My temper flares, my fists squeezing at my sides despite the gentle way he’s talking to me… or maybebecauseof it. “Okay, fine. At first, he was helping, or at least trying to, but not when he was stuck organizing things in dusty old closets. You’re telling me he’d rather be a prisoner and file fucking papers than be here with me?”

“That isn’t what I’m saying, and you know it. Consider all the crazy shit you told us about what happened at the clinic. Sure, theyassignedhim busywork, but that wasn’t what he was doing. He was uncovering hidden truths, and searching out information, and convincing you to sneak into the damn clinic in the middle of the night like a bunch of cat burglars.” I narrow my eyes as he shakes his head again, glancing towards his house.

“Cameron gets restless. He spent so many years on the run, so much time looking over his shoulder, that heforgetshe is safe. No matter how often his brain tells him it’s okay to be still, to be in one place, sometimes he needs to run.” When I don’t respond, he reaches forward to clasp my shoulder. “Make sure that when August has to run, you’re there to bring him home.”

“He can’t run,” I whisper in a rasp, the mere thought squeezing my throat closed.

“You can’t stop him,” Ronan says gently. “It goes against every instinct we have, brother, but you can’t stop him.” I glance behind me and find August watching us as he works, concern drawing his brows closer. Ronan squeezes me again before releasing me with a small shove in August’s direction. “Go to him.Talkto him. For a hundred years, you’ve always wanted to run that fucking mouth, so for once, I’m telling you to do it. You’re not made to hold things back.”

“Yeah, okay,” I mumble, and he sighs.

“Hold on a second. Stay here.” He jogs into his house, carrying a loaf of bread and a bowl of strawberries when he returns. “I noticed he likes those,” Ronan grumbles, nodding towards the berries.

“Softie.” A half-hearted smile pulls on my lips, but he can tell it’s forced. “Thank you,” I say, and he grips my arm again before he returns to work. That invisible hand around my throat squeezes tighter as I turn and walk to August. His weak smile falters as he catches my expression, his arms slowly falling to his side.

“Hey,” I say as another smile tries and fails to form on my mouth. “You’ve done enough today. I thought we might have dinner alone tonight.”

“That sounds great. We haven’t had much time to ourselves recently.” He winds the blanket he’s holding around his hands, twisting it into a ball, then continues to wring the fabric as we walk inside.

The house smells clean, with a hint of pine from the soap. August takes the blanket into the bedroom as I sit the food on the counter, and I watch him through the doorway as he spreads it over the bed. His broad shoulders flex and his calves tighten as he leans forward. Another powerful rush of emotion hits my chest as the sunlight shines off the gold in his hair.

Once he’s done, he cautiously approaches and stands in front of me, and subtlety flies out the window. “Do you feel trapped?” I ask, my voice thick as August’s brows whip together and his eyes widen. “Have I taken you from one prison and thrown you in another?”

“Elas—” he starts, but now that the words are flowing, I can’t get them to stop.

“You aren’t happy,” I say, thumping my hand over my heart. “You aren’t happy and I feel it. I feel ithere, August. Right here. You can’t… you can’t run. You can’t.” My voice cracks, but I’m too distraught to care. “Ronan says I have tolet you run, but fuck that. You can’t run. You can’tleave, August.”

“Elas! El, slow down.” He reaches to grip my cheeks and forces my eyes to his. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, finally pushing past it with an audible click. Heat prickles behind my eyes, tears threatening to spill for the first time since I learned my home, and my family still there, was destroyed.

“I love you,” I choke out, my fingers twisting in his hair in a desperate attempt to hold on to him. “I’m not good with words, August, and I don’t know how to say it in a way that will make you realize what you are to me. Whatever you need me to do, or say, please, justtell meso I can make this okay. How…” I trail off, forcing a deep breath as my vision blurs with those same precarious tears. “How can I be enough?”

“Oh, Elas, no,” he whispers, pulling my lips to his. “There isn’t a single thing about you I would change. You are…perfect.You are everything. Don’t you dare suggest that I could ever stop loving you.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong!” His entire face falls, and with it, my heart. I scoop him into my arms and drop onto the couch, holding him in my lap. “If you don’t tell me what’s bothering you, I can’t fix it. And I have to fix it, August. When you hurt, I hurt, and this is torture.”

August takes a shuddering breath in, staring up at the ceiling as tears pool in his eyes, and when he blinks, a single crystal droplet slips down his cheek. “I can’t…” he starts, but a quiet, shaky inhale that’s on the verge of a sob stops him. He swallows and rights his face, more tears falling as he meets my eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about them, El.”

“About who?”

“The files… the other mates. Theexperiments. They’re locked up, going through gods know what. They aredyingwhile I’m sitting back enjoying my freedom. Laughing and joking, eating fresh food and falling asleep at night in your arms. The guilt is killing me. It iskillingme, Elas.”

I force air into my lungs, swiping the tears from his cheeks. More freckles have appeared as his tan has deepened, his skin turning golden with the hours spent in the sun. “Your heart is too big for this waste of a world.”

“They are being tortured, Elas… experimented on while we sit here and eat strawberries in our clean bed. Of course I want to help them. It’s basic human decency!”

“I’m not a human, August!” I bellow, but he doesn’t pull away. He gets closer, clutching the fabric of my shirt. “I’m not human,” I repeat, quieter this time. “Half of them aren’t either, and decency died a long time ago. Do you think if the roles were reversed thatanyof them would lose sleep over you?”

“It doesn’t matter if they wouldn’t, Elas. I can’t just forget. I can’t move on.” His damp eyes shine as he stares up at me, pleading. “Doesn’t it haunt you? Knowing what they’re doing?”

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