Page 53 of All That We Keep
I start sorting through another basket of clean clothes when I hear Luther's footsteps in the hallway. He appears in the doorway, a small smile playing on his lips. "Want to come on a little outing with me?"
I look up from the pile of clothes, surprised by the unexpected invitation. "An outing? Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise. But I think you'll find it meaningful."
Before I can ask more questions, Maceo snorts and then groans before waking up fully. "I've got the twins. You two go ahead."
I'm a bit confused but find myself laughing at the obvious coordination between them. No wonder Maceo actually came in here. "What's going on? Did Blake fire you or something? Where exactly are we going? Is this some kind of work thing?"
Luther chuckles as he helps me gather a small bag. "Breathe for a minute, sweetheart. I wanted to ask you about something, but I thought it might be better to show you rather than just explain."
My confusion deepens, but I trust Luther completely. If he thinks this outing is important, then I'm willing to go along with whatever he has planned. We make our way to his car, and I settle into the passenger seat with growing curiosity about our mysterious destination.
As we drive through increasingly rural areas, I find myself running my hands over my belly in that unconscious gesture that's become second nature during this pregnancy. The baby responds with little flutters as if she can sense my mix of excitement and nervousness about whatever Luther has in mind.
"Are you going to give me any hints about where we're going?" I ask as familiar neighborhoods give way to tree-lined roads I don't recognize.
"Do you remember the five Omegas that were rescued from Ward's house?" Luther asks instead of answering my question directly.
The mention of Ward's victims makes my stomach tighten with remembered trauma and sympathy. I nod slowly. "I remember hearing about them on the news after the arrest."
"Did you follow the story? The investigation or the court proceedings?" Luther continues, his voice gentle but probing.
I shake my head immediately. "I blocked all of that out. I didn't want to watch the investigation or read about the cases or follow the news coverage. I didn't want to know the details." I pause, gathering my thoughts about why I made that choice. "I was just glad that Ward was locked up forever in maximum security prison and that his Alpha gland had been removed." An Alpha without a gland was about as useless as a rock which made me very happy.
The surgical removal of his gland was both punishment and prevention, ensuring that he could never again use his biology as a weapon against vulnerable people. The larger part of the investigation is still underway but the scariest parts are over with and I’m finally safe.
Luther nods with understanding. "That makes sense. You needed to focus on healing and building your new life."
"So why are you asking about the rescued Omegas now?" I ask, though part of me is starting to guess where this conversation might be leading.
"They've been working with those Omegas to help them recover and eventually find appropriate packs," Luther explains, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "But they're still very wary of anyone they don't know or trust. Most of themrarely leave their rooms, and when they do, they're struggling to believe that they deserve better treatment than what they experienced."
The description hits close to home, reminding me of my own early days with the pack when I couldn't quite believe that kindness wasn't just another form of manipulation. "Where are they staying?"
"They're at a small sanctuary about ten minutes north of our house," Luther says as he turns onto a winding road lined with taller trees. "It's a place that allows them to explore different arts and activities while they work on coming back to themselves. That's where we're headed now."
As we pull up to the facility, I'm struck by how different it looks from anything associated with Hearthstone. Instead of the sterile institutional appearance I was expecting, this place looks like a retreat center or artist colony. There are gardens and walking paths, windows that actually open to let in natural light, and common areas that feel welcoming rather than controlling.
"Why are you telling me about this?"
"Because I think you'd be a perfect person to help them.”
"But I don'tknowthem," I protest, suddenly feeling uncertain about whatever he's suggesting.
Luther turns in his seat to face me fully. "No, but you know exactly what they've been through. You're strong and resilient, and you fought through hell to reach your happy ending." He pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Sure, I was there to protect you, and you had Blake and Grayson and Maceo supporting you. But you did so much of the healing work on your own. You made the choice to trust us, to open your heart again, to believe that you deserved love and safety."
The acknowledgment of my own journey brings tears to my eyes. It's easy to focus on how my pack saved me, but Luther isright that much of the emotional work had to come from within myself.
"I believe they would benefit from seeing how strong an Omega can be when given the chance to flourish," Luther continues. "Not just surviving, but actually thriving and building a beautiful life."
"You really think I could do that?" I ask, my voice small with uncertainty and hope.
Luther nods without hesitation. "I do. But I want you to think about it carefully. I don't want to force you into anything, but you mentioned wanting to find ways to help other Omegas once. Your soft touch and understanding heart could be exactly what they need to start believing in their own worth again."
Before I can respond, my attention is caught by movement outside the car window. A young woman is sitting alone on a wooden bench in the garden, staring off into the distance with an expression I recognize all too well. It's the same far-away look I used to have during my time with Hudson, the disconnected gaze of someone who has learned to mentally escape when physical escape isn't possible.
But it's not just her expression that makes my heart clench with recognition. There are scars along her neck, similar to the ones I carry from Hudson's bite removal surgery, but she also has marks on her arms and hands. I watch as she picks at her fingers in a nervous gesture that speaks to deep anxiety and self-harm behaviors developed as coping mechanisms.
