"You're a regular guru," Thora, the dangerous omega, remarked with a smirk.
But Justice didn't smile in reply this time. His long, tanned face was stern. "I've seen too many people go through flashbacks; I'd like to never see that again."
I kept my breathing even as Vienna pressed my arm to my back, crowding close to me. For a second I was back in that bed. My arms hadn't been bound then but the feeling of being trapped was the same, and I couldn't choke down even a tiny breath.
But then a bird trilled obnoxiously outside the window, and I snapped back to the training gym. It wasViennaholding me, not an attacker. She was helping me learn how to defend myself.
It took me two attempts to follow Justice and Jessa's example, but I successfully broke Vienna's grip and a trembling sense of relief joined the heavy depression in my chest.
I still felt empty, my chest heavy and body lethargic, and my headpounded, but by the end of the session, I'd managed to learn a few moves without losing my shit. I didn't flee the room, didn't curl into a ball and cry.
My breathing might have been sharp, and I was definitely shaky, the memory of Anatoly and that room breathing down my neck, but I called it a victory.
"Hey Luna, Sweetie's made paninis for lunch. You coming?" ChaCha asked, slicking sweat-soaked purple hair out of her face, and looking brighter and more lively than she had when she'd walked into the room today.
I wasn't in the mood for idle, inane chatting, no matter how much I liked the girls. I was too heavy, too aching, too … scared. Ugh, I hated to admit it.
"I'm gonna get a shower instead," I lied, smiling but aware it wasn't convincing. "Thanks for the offer."
ChaCha shrugged. "It's just a panini, and I didn't make it myself."
"And thank fuck for that," Thora muttered as she passed, reaching out to ruffle Vienna's hair. "You can't cook for shit, Chatch."
"Disagree," ChaCha threw back, hands on her hips. "And stop being cute to Vienna; she’s my best bitch and you can’t have her."
"I thought I was your best bitch," Jessa complained.
My smile this time was a little less strained, but my stomach churned when I realised how difficult it would be to get to where they were—okay, recovering,healed.
I wanted to go back to normal, or at leastpretendeverything was normal, but I didn't think there'd ever be a time when I was fully myself again. I'd always carry a piece of Anatoly—bruises and pain now, and ruthless memories later.
"See you later," I said and quietly excused myself, avoiding Justice's attempt to call me over.
I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to acknowledge why I was here, why I didn't feel safe. And no matter how much I couldn't escape the memories, I didn't want to acknowledge what had happened to me.
I was fine. Iwould befine. Because I would allow nothing else.
I needed to go somewhere no one would bother me, and the kitchen and dining room were clearly not an option. I could go to the sanctuary, but there was always someone there watching TV or reading or just lounging on the big, comfy sofas.
Going back to my room wouldn't offer any peace. It certainly hadn't last night when Anatoly haunted my dreams.
I wanted my phone, but I didn't know where it had ended up after I dropped it. Probably back in the park near my studio.
My studio… What I really needed was to paint, to get some of this darkness out of me and onto a canvas. But I didn't have any of my supplies. So I decided on the next best thing—prayer.
I couldn't quite remember my way through the warren of clubhouse hallways, so I got lost twice before I found a familiar hallway and spotted the big door at the end. A weight fell off my shoulders at the sight of the exit. Maybe what Ireallyneeded was to get out of this place.
"Luna," a voice stopped me within three feet of the door.
My shoulders stiffened. I turned, and found the red-haired, freckled president of the club leaning half in and half out of the door to the bar, watching me.
My jaw clenched. So I wasn't allowed to leave?
"I didn't realise I was a prisoner here," I snapped, arms crossing over my sweaty T-shirt and a frenetic, thrumming energy filling me. Rage—but not at Prodigy. At Anatoly and his bitch sidekick, and at myself for not learning more self defencesooner. I could have elbowed them in the gut and escaped. I shouldn't have been caught in the first place.
"What?"Prodigy's eyes widened comically, and then narrowed in confusion. "Of course you're not a prisoner."
I glared harder, a muscle feathering in my clenched jaw. I was nothing to alphas, not worth as much as an omega, not worthanything. I was so sick of them taking over my life.