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.

day. Hours. Until my parents, tired of my whining, finally

always watching.

back. "You're sorry?" Anger surges through me, hot and bitter,

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

Ah. She needs something.

No wonder she's here.

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,

"I am hired to clean the

From the

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

"I have no intention of helping you or anyone else.

her features twisting into an ugly

hackles. raised, teeth bared.

her eyes flashing amber. For a moment, I think she might actually shift and attack. My heart pounds against my ribs, adrenaline surging

instantly. She straightens, smoothing

can talk when you've settled in." With that, she turns and flees

watches her go, then turns to me, curiosity etched on her

hard, trying to steady my racing heart. "An old neighbor," I manage, my voice shaking slightly.

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From

followed by sympathy. She starts to say something, but I don't hear her. I'm already sinking to my knees, burying my face in Selene's thick

tremble,

of my packmates. The pain of their blows, both physical and emotional. The sinking realization that no one, not even our neighbors, would help me Breathe,

the flood of emotions. Fear, anger, betrayal-they swirl inside me, a maelstrom threatening to pull me

gentle voice breaks through

my heart, slowing down. Meeting her concerned gaze,

nods, understanding in her eyes. "I'll be in the other room if you need me." She pauses, then adds, "Therapy isn't something to be ashamed

leaves, I turn my attention back to Selene, running my fingers

From the

of my

voice a gentle caress in my mind. But you

laugh escapes me. "Strength? I'm shaking

the absence of fear, Ava. It's facing it head-on, even when it terrifies you. And that's