Page 108 of Petals and Strings
Caspian
Asmall, brown haired girl filled my dream. Her voice was fading, the sweet, melodic laughter slipping from my grasp as I woke up with a jolt.
“You okay?” Audrey rasped, reaching for me and snuggling in close. I didn’t answer right away, simply breathing in her distinct scent and letting it chase away the building sadness.
“Just a rough dream. It feels like memories of my little girl are fading,” I admitted. It felt terrible to say out loud. How could a father forget the sound of his daughter’s voice? The daughter he failed to protect.
“Maybe you should talk to Ares today. I know it’s kind of weird that he’s our pack, but we’ve all been in far worse situations. He’s good at what he does, even if it’s the ‘tough love’ approach sometimes,” she said as her hands teased through my hair, untangling the blond strands with gentle fingers.
She was sitting now, close enough her legs were pressed lightly against me as she talked, voice low and husky from sleep.
We were scent matches. Yet, I’d held myself back at every turn. As much as I craved this omega, I couldn't shake the guilt.
Tatum was also my mate. How could I just… move on?
Why would I have two matches that were both equally as potent? Two omegas that were worlds apart in personality?
A gentle touch on my face had me blinking and focusing back on Audrey’s mismatched blue eyes. She tipped up the corner of her lips in a smile.
“You’re getting lost in here again,” she said, tapping her finger to my temple. “Don’t slip away from me.”
“I won’t,” I promised. Though, our little bubble we had would have to burst soon. No one, not even Cross was going to keep letting us avoid Dr. Malik or our activities. We were all still technically patients here.
And as far as I knew, Ares was no closer to finding anything that would lead to him truly taking this place down.
“You need me?” Ares asked. Somehow he seemed to know when one of us was struggling. Maybe a bit of pack intuition.
She raised an eyebrow at me, letting me make my own choice. Something about the way she looked at me, challenging, but also understanding, had me letting out a sigh.
“I could use a session,” I said, turning to Ares. He looked surprised, but a smile moved across his face.
“Then come in when you’re ready. We have about an hour before breakfast,” he offered. “If it runs longer, we’ll pause and come back after.”
For a man that came in looking like a drill sergeant, he was soft for us. The moment we stepped out of our wing he was different. Harder. Vigilant. Careful.
I was glad he was on our side. It meant Malik hadn’t tried to force us into anything again. We’d even had a day when the rest of the building had a medication switch, everyone in their zombie states while we sat among them, uncomfortable andworried. Ares stood near, chest puffed out, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
The one medical assistant that approached quickly retreated.
Audrey gave my hand one final squeeze as I forced myself to follow him to his office.
He stood and closed the door, waiting for me to pick a chair before finding one nearby. No notebook or anything to distract, just his focus fully on me.
“What has you rattled this morning?” he asked. It was the safest place to start because the answer came easily.
“It was a dream about my daughter. But her voice was fading, laughter echoing but not quite right. I’ve already felt guilty about finding a pack after losing them, but to have the memories fade like that?”
My voice cracked. I looked up expecting to find the same pity I always did. Instead, I was met with confusion.
“I know your wife died in a shooting,” he said gently. “The same one that injured you all…”
“My wife and daughter died,” I corrected, a sob echoing out.
His eyebrows furrowed and he stood, rushing over to his desk and rifling through a folder until he found what he was looking for.
This wasn’t exactly the session I expected. Why was he being so strange?
“Caspian, what exactly did they tell you about the accident? I think it’s really important we’re on the same page here,” he said carefully as he sat, a manilla folder tight in his hands. His knuckles were white as he clutched it, eyes locked on me.
