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Connor refuses to let go of my hand despite how much the cold burns his skin. “Renia, come back to us.”
“You will not return to the place where you were tortured,” I insist, lifting my free hand before me.
Kaleb and Connor stumble back as invisible walls of wind shove them away. Nothing will stand between me and destroying the location of Connor’s torment.
Nolan tries to reach me, letting the sledgehammer fall to the floor so he can wrap both arms around me, pinning mine to my sides. “Love, it’s okay. Connor is okay. The room can’t hurt him anymore.”
“And he has a right to face his past, just like you faced yours,” Donovan adds, meeting my cold stare with a determined one of his own.
“It’s my right to protect,” I argue while the ice at my feet spreads. It makes a path through the doorway and begins to climb the walls.
Kaleb appears momentarily shell-shocked, his gaze flicking between Connor and me before his expression gentles. He steps before me, and without looking away from my eyes, requests, “Let her go.”
Nolan hesitates, but he does as Kaleb asks when my attention shifts from the door to Kaleb’s outstretched hands. He doesn’t go far, stepping behind me.
Always my choice. I observe the glittering frost that covers my hands and frown. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Some people are worth the pain,” Kaleb replies, his hands as steady as mountains, waiting for me to decide to entrust mine in his.
Tears drip down my face as I close the gap, carefully placing my hands within his grasp. They feel almost blistering hot against my frigid skin, but the only sign of pain he allows is a tightening around the eyes.
“Columba mea,” he murmurs, holding my gaze as if the world only contains the two of us, “you protected Connor when he needed you most. The old alpha can’t hurt him now. That room is nothing but wood and memories.” He releases a shuddering breath as he squeezes the tips of my fingers. “Connor needs you to stand beside him now—not as a sword and shield, but as a comforting light while he makes his way through the darkness of the past. Can you do that?”
Nodding, I close my eyes and fight to get back to myself. With deep, steady breaths, I use the heat of Kaleb’s comforting touch as a beacon to become the person they need me to be. The hail tapers off, and I hear the drip of the ice melting from the walls into cold puddles on the floor. When I feel my skin thaw, I open my eyes again. Kaleb smiles softly, gives my fingers another squeeze, and then lets me go so Connor can take his place.
Guilt fills me as I look into his concerned gaze. “I’m sorry, mi lobo. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It wasn’t fair to you.”
He gathers me in his arms, gripping me so tightly that it’s hard to breathe, but I welcome his shelter… his warmth. “Lo entiendo, mi reina,” he murmurs into my hair. “A rage born from love and pain.”
“Yes, it was,” I agree, and then I pull back far enough to look up into his eyes, “but today isn’t about me. You wanted support while tearing down this awful room, and instead, you’re comforting me because I had a bad reaction to your pain.”
“Just as we share our love,” he replies with tender sadness, “we also share our pain. You hurt because I hurt.”
“Like I keep saying, your shit is our shit,” Donovan interjects as he walks into the torture room, the sledgehammer clasped firmly in both hands. “And our shit is your shit.”
“You’re so sentimental,” Nolan jokes while bending down to retrieve his sledgehammer.
“It’s what families do,” Donovan states dismissively, followed by a grunt and the loud sound of wood breaking. Apparently, since I’m no longer going to go vengeful goddess on everything, heart-to-heart time is over. “Now are you all going to get in here and break some seriously fucked up shit, or am I going to do it all by myself?”
Kaleb sighs like Donovan is a wayward child he can’t control. “We were giving Connor time to mentally prepare himself. Perhaps give him the catharsis of the first swing.”
“Too late for that, so you may as well get in here,” he replies, his voice echoing from within the sparsely filled room. There’s another crunch of splintered wood.
Shrugging, Nolan drags his sledgehammer as he follows Donovan inside, the head scraping against the floorboards. Kaleb looks at Connor, asking with his eyes if this is what he wants or if he would like him to intervene. Connor gestures with his head that it’s okay for him to join them. Kaleb takes in Connor and me standing as one in our embrace, nods once with a tight smile, grabs one of two sledgehammers that I didn’t notice leaning against the wall, and disappears into the room. My heart is heavy as I realize he’s only now learning about my mate bond with Connor and how that might weigh on his decision about us.
Returning my attention to Connor, I press myself against him, unconcerned by the sweat and dirt transferring onto me from his bare chest. “You know, I don’t have to use fire to destroy the room. I could just tear it to pieces with a small tornado or something.”
His laugh rumbles underneath my ear. “Couldn’t that also destroy the house?”
“I don’t see that as a bad thing,” I reason, lifting my head so I can look up at him. “Maybe rebuilding from nothing is better.”
Connor raises a single brow as a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “What about your room?”
“I do like that room,” I answer with a sigh. “It has good light and that pretty bed the pack made me.” I scrunch up my face like it’s a great burden not to destroy the alpha house. “Fine, no tornado.”
“Gracias,” he replies, his smile turning into a grin over my antics, which was what I was hoping for. It doesn’t last long as he looks over his shoulder at the room, his expression falling into one of grim determination.
“Kaleb is right,” I say gently, running my hands along the base of his back. “You don’t have to go in there. We can take care of it.”
