Broken Beyond Belief

Chapter 5: Trick or Trust?

Mira’s POV:

‘Oh my god, that’s a really deep gash on your cheek… and your lips, they’re burst and huge as well. Are you alright? What happened? Who did this to you?’ The man exclaimed, his voice filled with concern—but his words cut through me like sharp knives, each one reminding me of how worthless I felt.

My body trembled. No! No! No! I screamed in my mind, trying to silence his voice, trying to stop the tears that burned my eyes. I stood up quickly, but the woman was right there, gently nudging me back into my seat.

“Now, now, dear,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “You don’t need to tell us anything.”

“What?” the man exclaimed, his voice rising with disbelief. “Yes, she does! Look at her—she’s starved half to death, barely clothed, soaking wet, bloodied, and bruised! Her condition is ridiculous!” He went on, his words relentless. Each one stung like a slap in the face, and soon I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing freely.

The woman leaned in, her arms wrapping around me. “Hush now, my dear. Hush. It’s okay. You’re safe here. Don’t worry.” She gently held me as I sobbed, my chest heaving.

She looked up at the man, her voice suddenly commanding. “That’s enough! Can’t you see you’re terrifying the poor girl? The last thing she needs is more fear.”

The man went to protest, but she raised a hand, silencing him. “You’re right,” he muttered after a long pause, looking guilty. “Sorry, kid.”

I tried to pull away, but my voice cracked as I pleaded, “Please, just let me go. If they catch me here, I’m dead. If they find out you’ve seen me, that I’ve left the house like this… I’m dead. They’ll kill me.”

The woman’s expression softened, though her voice was firm. “Calm down, sweet girl,” she soothed. “You are free to go. But I have a few conditions first.”

The word “conditions” made my heart race. I had learned the hard way that when someone offered help, there was always a price to pay. My mind raced with possibilities—what would she want from me? What was the cost?

“Hello, my dear?” The woman’s voice pulled me from my spiralling thoughts. “Are you still with us?” She nudged me gently, and I nodded, still sobbing quietly. She smiled softly and continued, “My conditions are simple. You let myself and this nice doctor take care of your wounds—bandages, antiseptic, and some butterfly stitches for your face. You let us clean up those feet of yours, and then… I want you to look through our donation pile for some warm clothes. You can’t leave here without at least a change of clothes, can you?”

I hesitated. My body felt frozen, my heart racing in my chest. Could I trust them? Could I trust anyone again? Every time I’d let my guard down, it always came with a price. The last time someone showed me kindness… it was Jasper. He’d bought me a top when I was fourteen, something simple, something just for me. And for a week, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, someone could care. But then Hayleigh found out, and she ripped it from my body. She tore it up and laughed, her words cutting through me. “You’re a worthless slut. You don’t deserve nice things.” And the boys... they laughed with her, tearing the fabric for fun, for punishment, for reminding me of my place.

That top was nothing but a cruel reminder that nothing was ever really mine. Nothing good ever lasted. My heart sank as I imagined these clothes—the ones the woman was offering—becoming the next thing to be destroyed. They’d never stay with me. They’d be torn up, ruined, or thrown away like everything else that came my way. I couldn’t let myself believe they’d last, or that these people wouldn’t find a way to use me the same way everyone else had.

“You have to be careful,” I whispered to myself under my breath, my voice quivering. I could already hear their voices, their laughter in my head— Hayleigh, and the boys—mocking me for being weak enough to accept their charity. And I could hear them tearing me down, just like always.

The woman’s words drifted into my thoughts again, a bit too calm, too measured. It was a kindness I hadn’t earned, hadn’t asked for, and it made me feel small, exposed. She was speaking to me like I mattered. But I wasn’t used to that. People didn’t care about me. They only cared about what I could do for them, what I could give them. Kindness had always been something that had strings attached, and I was all too familiar with the cost. I shut my eyes for a second, trying to block out the thoughts swirling in my head. My mind kept racing, wondering what I would do if they tried to talk to anyone else about me, if they mentioned me to other pack members...

Would they just tell the pack what had happened? Would they laugh at my pathetic state and tell everyone how they found me? I could see it clearly in my mind: the looks, the whispers, the judgment. The last thing I needed was for anyone in the pack to know I was here. I would beg them, plead with them, if it meant they would keep me a secret.

“Please,” I whispered softly, almost too quiet for them to hear. “Please, you can’t tell anyone about me. You have to keep me a secret. You don’t understand. If they find out... I’ll be dead. Do you hear me? Dead.”

The woman, who had turned away for a moment to fetch the clothes, paused and looked back, her face softening with concern. I could see that she was beginning to understand, but even that kindness felt like a foreign concept to me. Could I really trust her? Could I trust any of them? Would this be the one time I could get away with it?

I shut my eyes again, imagining what would happen if my brothers came home early, if they found out I wasn’t there, if they found out I’d left. I could already hear their shouts, their demands, the sound of silver chains cracking against my skin, their fists slamming into me. I’d be whipped outside, tied to a tree for their friends to watch—exposed, humiliated, like a little animal for their amusement. It was the punishment I feared most. They’d make it hurt, make sure I never forgot how easily they could destroy me. The thought of it made my stomach churn, and I felt the cold sweat start to form on my skin.

“Please,” I begged again, my voice trembling. “You have to let me go. Please… if they find out…”

The woman’s eyes softened, but there was something firm in her expression. “I understand,” she said quietly. “We won’t say a word. You’re safe here, for now. But you need to let us help you.”

I nodded, though every fibre of my being screamed that it was too good to be true. Too kind. I was used to being hurt, used to the betrayal that followed even the smallest act of kindness. But I had no choice. I had to take what I could get. If they let me leave, if they helped me just enough to get out of here, then I could survive another day.

The woman’s footsteps echoed as she left the room, and I was left with the doctor. I could hear the woman in the next room, her quiet thoughts and murmurs as she rummaged through clothes. It wasn’t long before she came back, her arms full of items, a smile on her face that I wasn’t sure I could trust.

“Here,” she said gently, handing me a bundle of clothes. “These should fit. There’s not much, but it’s better than what you had.”

I looked down at the clothes, my heart sinking. I hadn’t wanted this. I didn’t want charity. I didn’t want to be the girl who needed saving. But here I was. I took the clothes from her hands, my fingers trembling.

“No,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “that’s too much. I only need a top and a pair of trousers.”

The woman shook her head, not giving in. “Nonsense,” she said firmly. “You need warmth. Take them all. You deserve it.”

She placed a pair of trainers in front of me. “I think you’ll need these, too. I’d guess your size is a two, but we’ll find out when you try them on.” She smiled at me, a warmth in her expression that almost made me believe she meant it. Almost.

I didn’t know what to think anymore. My head was spinning. But I could feel the desperation clawing at me. I needed to leave. I needed to get out of here before it was too late.

I looked up at her, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure what I was thanking her for. Maybe for giving me the smallest sliver of hope, even if I knew better than to believe it would last.

The doctor finished bandaging me up, his hands firm but careful. As he worked, he made small talk.

“My name’s Scott, by the way. It’s nice to meet you,” he said with a quick smile before his expression turned serious. “I’m sorry if I startled you earlier. It’s just that it… unnerves me, seeing someone so young in such a horrific state.”

“Unnerves?” I echoed, my voice hollow.

“Never mind,” he muttered, shaking his head.

He continued; his voice gentle but persistent. “I’m glad this kind lady convinced you to let us help you. It’s not right that you’re out here alone in your condition. Don’t you have friends or a family who could look after you? Where are you from? You look very young… do you go to school in the pack? Who are your parents?”

On and on he went, the words running together, pressing in on me like a tightening noose. My chest felt constricted, each question slicing through the fragile walls I had built around myself.

I didn’t realize I had started crying until my vision blurred, and my voice broke in a whisper.

“Please stop.”

Scott froze, looking up from the bandage he was securing.

“Please…” My hands curled into fists on my lap. “I can’t answer your questions. I’m sorry. I know I agreed to let you help me, I know you said there were conditions… but I can’t.” My voice cracked as the weight of it all crashed over me, my silent sobs shaking my frame.

Scott looked stunned, his lips parting as if to say something before he closed them again. A moment later, his voice softened.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He hesitated, then tried again. “Look, forget all that. How about we start over? My name’s Scott… can you tell me yours? I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

I looked at him in vague shock. He wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t demanding. He was just… offering.

I wanted to trust him. I wanted to trust both of them. But I couldn’t. The fear of my brothers' consequences strangled the words before they could escape. What if one of them slipped up and mentioned me?

“…M,” I said finally, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.” I swallowed hard. “It’s my initial, if that helps.”

Scott let out a soft chuckle, warmth in his voice. “That’ll do, M. I’m glad I got the chance to meet you.”

His tone turned practical again. “Now, can you tell me—do you have any medical supplies at home? It’s just… if you don’t, I’d rather make you a little go-bag so you can change some of these dressings in a few days. It’s important to keep the wounds clean, especially the stitches. The skin needs a chance to heal.”

I hesitated.

Then, my thoughts drifted to Sunday—my eighteenth birthday. If I met my mate, I needed to at least be presentable. Not that I wanted a mate from this pack. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped here. But… with the war, there were always visitors, allies, warriors coming and going. Black Moon and Bloodstone were two of the largest packs in America, ranking in the top ten globally. There was a chance—small but real—that my mate could be one of them.

And if that was true… I had to try. A mate was my only hope. The only chance I’d ever have at a life.

“No,” I admitted quietly. “I don’t have any. I did, but what I was wearing was the last of it.”

Scott nodded. “Okay, then. It’s settled. I’ll pack some supplies into the bag that—” He paused and glanced at the woman beside him. “I’m sorry, miss, what’s your name?”

“Ruth,” she answered sweetly.

“Right. I’ll put a zip-lock bag of supplies in with the clothes Ruth packed for you.”

I nodded, trying to force a smile so he’d know I was grateful.

Scott continued, his doctorly concern returning. “M, I know you had supplies before, but do you know how to apply everything I’m giving you? Or is there someone at home who could do it for you?”

“No,” I said again. “I try to figure most things out myself.” My voice was small, hesitant. “But no… I don’t know how to do everything. And I won’t have anyone to help me.”

His brow furrowed. “But you do have people, right? People who care?”

I stared at him in silence. Willing him to bypass the subject.

Scott sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. I get it. Sorry.”

He turned to Ruth. “Would you mind helping me demonstrate how to apply these bandages once I’m done?”

“Of course not,” she answered, smiling.

They let the conversation settle into a comfortable silence as Scott finished tending to my wounds. Then, the two of them patiently showed me how to replace the dressings myself. Ruth gave me tips on keeping them dry in the shower, though we both knew I barely got the chance for one. But still… I appreciated the effort.

When they were done, Ruth led me to a small room at the back of the store so I could change.

The clothes were slightly oversized, but they were the nicest things I’d had in years. And—shockingly—the shoes fit.

I stepped out hesitantly, and Ruth cheered. “Oh, look at that! A perfect fit!”

Scott smiled. “That’s great, M.”

Ruth clapped her hands together. “Now, dear, let me make you a cup of tea to warm you up.”

She turned to walk into another room I hadn’t even realized was part of the store. I assumed that’s where she’d find the kettle.

“No.”

I said it too suddenly, too sharply.

Ruth froze, turning back.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice thick. “I… I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done.” My eyes stung again, fresh tears spilling before I could stop them. “But I need to go. I’ve been here too long already.”

I didn’t wait for a response.

Spinning on my heels, I grabbed the bag sitting at the front of the store—the supplies, the clothes, everything—and bolted. I turned the key in the door, yanked it open, and ran.

I ran as fast as my battered body would allow, the fear coursing through my veins stronger than the pain. Fear that they’d follow. Fear that someone would notice me. Fear that I wouldn’t make it back in time.

Fear of what my brothers would do to me if I was caught.

Adrenaline propelled me forward, numbing the ache in my legs, the sting in my ribs. I made it home in forty minutes, my body trembling from the exertion.

Three hours. The full trip had taken me three hours.

I had been in that shop for forty minutes.

That was too long.

I swallowed hard, dread curling in my gut.

Please don’t let them be home yet.

Scott’s POV:

I stood frozen, staring at the door M had just bolted through. The bell above it gave a final jingle before silence swallowed the space. I exhaled sharply, raking a hand through my hair. That girl had been running long before she stepped into this shop—I could see it in the way she barely met my eyes, how she flinched at every question, like she was expecting a blow instead of kindness.

“She shouldn’t be out there alone,” Ruth murmured beside me, her hands still clasped like she wished she could somehow hold onto M just a little longer.

“No, she shouldn’t,” I muttered. But what could we do? Chase her down? Drag her back? She was terrified. Nothing we could’ve said would have changed her mind.

My jaw tightened as a sick feeling curled in my gut. “She’s been through hell.” The words felt hollow compared to the reality of what I’d seen—her battered feet, the way her ribs pressed against her skin, those bruises. Someone had hurt her. Someone had been hurting her for a long time.

Ruth wiped at her eyes and straightened, her voice quiet but firm. “If she ever comes back, we’ll help her again. No questions asked.”

I nodded, but the unease didn’t leave me. If she ever comes back…