Tangled

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158 Ava: From the Past

"Ava, is that you?"

The familiar rasp has me frozen, my heart lurching into my throat. Slowly, I turn around, coming face-to-face with a ghost from my

past.

Our neighbor. Margot Mitchell.

Her once vibrant auburn hair is streaked with silver, her face a

roadmap of wrinkles and scars. It's her eyes that haunt me. Piercing green eyes that see everything and do nothing.

"Margot," I greet, my voice tight with caution. "What are you doing

here?"

She limps

toward me, her gait uneven from some injury she incurred long before I was born. I remember asking about it once, and my mother slapped the back of my head, admonishing me for my rudeness. "Oh, Ava. I'm

I tense as she reaches out, half-expecting her to grab me, to drag me back to the hellscape I escaped. But she merely places a hand on my arm, her touch feather-light.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry for everything. For not intervening when..." She trails off, her gaze flickering to the ground.

The shame she tries to portray leaves me feeling dirty. Unclean from her mere presence.

Memories flash through my mind, unbidden. Margot's face in the

$2.00

150 As from the Pant

window, watching as I was taunted and beaten, even by her own son. Listening at the front door as my parents berated me, their voices carrying through the window. Her figure rushing inside. when I tried beggi I was thirteen.

He broke my wrist.

parents, tired of my

always watching.

taking a step back. "You're sorry?" Anger surges through me, hot and bitter, fueling my words. "Why are you even saying that? What does that do

none of us could help you. Please." She grabs at my arm again.

Ah. She needs something.

No wonder she's here.

continues to boil in my veins, even as my stomach churns. There's a tiny part of me, almost miniscule, that was hopeful her apology was genuine. It's dead now, like so many other little parts of "How did you know I was here?" I step back, avoiding her grip, and

hired to clean the

From

separated now. Taken from our mates. Forced to cut ties with the alpha. Westwood is tearing us apart. They sh

helping you or anyone else. from that pack.

an ugly mask of rage. "You

into the room, her hackles. raised, teeth bared. She positions herself

a moment, I think she might actually shift and attack.

changes instantly. She straightens, smoothing her expression into one

her tone clipped. "We can talk when you've settled in." With that, she turns

to me, curiosity etched on her face. "Who was

trying to steady my racing heart. "An old neighbor,"

316

Aws: From

followed by sympathy. She starts to say something, but I don't hear her. I'm already sinking to

tremble, overwhelmed by the

jeers and taunts of my packmates. The pain of their blows, both physical and emotional. The sinking realization

emotions. Fear,

voice breaks through the

A few beats of my heart, slowing down. Meeting her concerned gaze, I give the faintest

She pauses, then adds, "Therapy isn't something to be ashamed of.

to Selene, running my fingers

From the

of my

voice a gentle caress in my mind. But you handled

bitter laugh escapes me. "Strength? I'm shaking like a

It's facing it head-on, even when it