Page 79 of Thorns That Bloom
We lie there in silence, our bodies offering warmth and comfort.
His closeness eases the trembles passing through me and the wild rhythms of my pulse. Even so, no matter how tired I am, I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes and try, there’s still one more dark shadow.
“He…found me,” I whisper as low as I can, haunted by the irrational idea of him somehow hearing me otherwise. “You saw how determined he was. He…he isn’t the kind of man to give up easily. He wants the…he wants the baby. He thinks…” Tears start burning in my eyes again, so I screw them shut and press my lips into a tight line for a moment to hold it together.
Theo brushes his thumb over my belly, and it sends a shimmering warmth radiating inward.
“I-I don’t know what I’m going to do. There’s nothing else I can… He…he has money, Theo. Lawyers. Connections. What if he—”
Theo shifts his hand to copy the curve of my back. I meet his intent gaze. “He won’t. I won’t let him. He won’t do anything to you or the baby. I promise you. I don’t know how he even…how they got away with this, but I’ll make sure he goes away.”
Fear pings through me. “How…?”
He must realize what I’m implying. What his words implied. “No, nothing like that. Nothing violent or illegal. Don’t worry, okay? There’s…there’s someone I know who can help. They will. They’ll make it so he can’t ever come close to you or the baby.” Theo’s frown is one of burning determination. No matter how hopeless I feel about my situation—having already tried and failed against the brilliantly cutthroat lawyers they had at their disposal—I…believe him. Just like that.
Because he says so. Because Theo’s here to protect me.
I smile faintly, closing my eyes. Pushing my head forward, I let our foreheads touch again. “Okay,” I whisper.
After a moment of silence, when I finally start feeling sleep tug at me, Theo’s hand tenderly brushes my hair.
“I swear to you, Sam. I won’t allow it. Get some sleep now, lovely. Close your eyes and let it all go… I’m here.”
Chapter 19
Theo
I keep seeing that man’s face. His every feature remains etched forever in my mind. Those down-turned, deep-set dark eyes. Wide nose. A beauty mark to the left of it. Slightly uneven eyebrows and a meticulously groomed beard. The way he used his height and his intimidating posture to coerce and scare Sam.
Even now, rage itches inside my veins like a thousand crawling ants. Never in my life have I ever wanted to kill someone. To truly, undoubtedly, without a second thought, hurt a person so badly that they would never move again.
Because they’d deserve it. Because it would be the right thing to do.
I compare it to all the times I’ve felt overwhelming anger before. When Landon Nash tripped Gail in third grade, making her fall and break open her chin. That time I noticed a creep who’d watched Emily all night try to slip drugs into her drink at a festival. Our family trip to the seaside when I was sixteen, when some hateful group of beta-rights activists spat on my dads as they walked along the pier, holding hands and enjoying life.
Not a single of those memories comes even close to the terrifying, blinding rage I experienced yesterday, that still simmers in me today. The kind of rage I never would’ve expected myself capable of feeling, and yet there’s not a cell in my body that regrets or is ashamed of it.
Maybe she’s right about me. About alphas.
Maybe this is proof enough.
I know I can’t stall anymore. It’s almost time, and I should thank my lucky stars that she even agreed to meet me, not to mention at such short notice.
Anxiety buzzes through my fingertips as I walk into the building. A part of me wants to turn around and go back. Of course, I’d rather be with Sam. Be there when he wakes up to make sure he’s okay. To talk to him if he needs to.
But this is for his benefit. No matter how uncomfortable, no matter how much my heart hurts, this is the most effective way to solve his issues.
Or at least some of them, I hope.
“Hello, sir,” a young woman smiles at me from the reception, showing off her bright white teeth. She seems like the most enthusiastic worker I’ve ever seen, especially at eight-thirty in the morning on a Friday.
The blue lettering on the massive poster behind her draws my attention. ‘Spyrax: Non-Profit Omega Rights Organization – Rising and Fighting Together’. As I furrow my brows, I try to shake off the feeling that I shouldn’t be here.
“Oh, hi! I’m here to see Gail. Um, Gail Reid. She knows I’m coming.”
The woman eagerly glances down at her computer, clicks a few times and…then her face drops. Her expression changes. Not to a completely unpleasant one, but it’s as if all that light got snuffed out. She looks back at me with a sort of uncomfortable distrust.
“I see. You can wait for her in Conference Room 4. Down that way,” she says firmly. Like I’m no longer standing there, she fixates on the computer screen again.
