Tangled

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158

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 whining, finally dragged me

watching. Never

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

have to understand, none of us could help you. Please." She grabs at

Ah. She needs something.

No wonder she's here.

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,

"I am hired to

Ava From the

separated now. Taken from our mates. Forced to cut ties with the alpha. Westwood is tearing us apart. They sh "No." My

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

an ugly mask of

the room, her hackles. raised,

moment, I think she might actually

demeanor changes instantly. She straightens, smoothing

you again later," she says, her tone clipped. "We can talk when you've settled in." With that, she turns and flees the room, brushing

to me, curiosity etched

swallow hard, trying to steady my racing heart. "An old

316

From

dawns in Vanessa's eyes, followed by sympathy. She starts to say something, but I don't hear her. I'm already sinking to my

as I tremble, overwhelmed by the unexpected confrontation with

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

right, but it doesn't stop the flood of emotions. Fear, anger, betrayal-they swirl inside

through the chaos. "Are

few beats of my heart, slowing down. Meeting

"Therapy isn't something to be ashamed of. If you're interested, just talk to me. Everything will be kept be Gratitude wells up inside me, and I manage

I turn my attention back to Selene, running my fingers through her soft fur. Her presence

From the

edges of

her voice a gentle caress in

laugh escapes me. "Strength?

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