Chapter 14
982 Words
Jax’s POV
The hot, thick steam of the shower stall immediately enveloped us, shutting out the outside world and the cold of the room. Slowly, with the utmost care, I lowered Freya onto the wet, dark tiles. The moment her feet touched the ground, out of pure instinct and shame, she turned away from me. She stood with her back to me, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her head bowed.
I didn't scold her. I didn't ask her to turn around. I understood that this was the absolute maximum her pride and terror could endure right now.
The hot water poured down on us with a steady roar. I grabbed a soft sponge and my body wash. The water slowly began to wash away the cellar's grime, the dried mud, and the blood from the girl's body. As the layers of dirt disappeared, my stomach cramped with such force that I had to turn my head away for a moment just to catch my breath.
Her back... God, her back was one massive, continuous map of pain.
Scars ran everywhere across her pale skin. Among them were old ones—thick, white, and silvery lines clearly left by a whip or chains. They crisscrossed each other, gouged into her fragile body. And then there were the fresh ones. The dark purple bruises, the raw, red cuts that were only just beginning to heal. Many of these were caused by the cold stone walls and chains of my own dungeon.
My inner wolf howled furiously, painfully in my mind. Once again, I wanted to kill everyone who had ever touched her. I wanted to tear off her clan leader father's head with my own bare hands.
But as Freya trembled softly from the cold and the tension, I knew that she didn't need the beast right now. She didn't need my rage. She needed peace.
I swallowed hard, stifling my murderous instincts, and lifted the soapy sponge.
Very slowly, telegraphing my every move, I touched her shoulder. Freya flinched, but she didn't pull away. Without the slightest pressure, I gently began to wash her back, carefully avoiding the freshest, most painful wounds. The water and the suds slowly cleansed her.
The silence dominating the bathroom was suffocating. I knew the girl's mind was racing. I knew that with my every touch she was thinking of the old tortures, waiting for the caress to turn into a strike. I had no intention of asking the questions dancing on the tip of my tongue. I didn't want to ask where each scar came from. I didn't want to torment her further with her past.
Instead, I decided to give her something of myself. Something to distract her and break this terror-filled silence.
"Silas and I grew up in an orphanage," I spoke softly. My deep voice filled the steamy space, and I saw Freya's shoulders react with a tiny, surprised jerk. She hadn't expected me to speak. Especially not about this.
I continued washing her, keeping my gaze fixed on her wet, blonde hair.
"After the vampires killed my parents, I had no one. The leader of our old pack took me in, true, but the world of wolves is cruel. If you don't have a family to protect you, you end up at the very bottom of the hierarchy. Silas was the only one who stood by me. He was always the brainy one, and I... well, I was the one who hit first and asked questions later."
I slowly rinsed the suds from her arm, and my hand stopped at her wrist. Carefully, with my thumb, I wiped the blood from the wounds.
"My wolf was too wild even when I was young," I went on, keeping my voice steady and soothing. "When I first transformed, it hurt so much, and I had so much rage inside me over losing my parents, that I almost tore our own people apart. I hid in the woods for days. I thought I was a monster. I thought I would never be able to control the darkness inside me."
Freya's breathing changed. It grew slower and deeper. That cramped, ready-to-flee tension slowly began to drain from her body. She was listening to me.
"Eventually, the previous Alpha found me. He didn't beat me, he didn't lock me in chains. He sat down in the mud with me and said, 'Anger is a weapon, Jax. But if you don't learn how to wield it, it will cut you.'" I took a deep breath and rinsed the remaining soap from her body. "It took years before I learned to control it. Before I got strong enough to challenge him and take over the leadership of the pack. I built this motorcycle club, and this sanctuary, so that lost wolves like me would have a home. For those to whom the world had only ever given pain."
I turned off the water. In the sudden silence, only the quiet gurgle of the drain could be heard.
I grabbed a massive, thick, warm towel from the heater. I opened it, and without turning Freya around, I simply draped it over her shoulders, completely wrapping her fragile body in the soft fabric.
Then, in that moment, something happened.
Freya didn't tense up. She didn't try to pull away like a wounded animal. Instead, very slowly, with a barely noticeable movement, she tilted her head back and let her wet hair lean against my chest. It was just a single, tiny second. A momentary surrender. A silent thank you for not interrogating her, and for giving her a piece of my own vulnerable past.
My heart gave a massive thud. I lifted the edges of the towel and pulled her tightly against me.
"You are not alone, Freya," I whispered in the steamy gloom. "You will never be alone again."
- Writer
