Ch 19: Old Wounds

"They're dead."

".....What?"

A sigh. "They're dead kid. Robbed. Shot."

"No!"

"Conrad?"

"No, no no no."  Tears. Tears as hands reached for me. A million hands. A cacophony of sounds. Distorted.

"No!" I was bawling. "Mom, dad!" An arm around my waist. It was keeping me secured. Away from the gruesome image of their battered and bloodied bodies. "Mom! Dad!"

The screaming grew louder. The colors distorted. I was watching a boy run. Was that me? He was running and running and running, never getting closer, watching as they faded away, covering his ears as the chorus of adults shrieked for him to stop, to come back, as he kept running towards their disappearing bodies.

"Conrad?" A blink. A scene change. A blonde, blue-eyed alpha standing before me. Joe.

"Joe," I sobbed. I had the overwhelming urge to hug him, to run into his arms. With a step forward, I smiled and reached for him.

"You need to leave."

I stopped. His face was passive."Wha-what? Joe, what are you talking about? Joe, wait!" He was already gone, drowned into the background.

"Conrad?" I jumped. Blinked. There was Elise, smiling and waving. I smiled and waved back. Everything was ok. Everything was-

"Elise, watch out! Elise!" But it was too late. A bullet between her eyes. Another dozen through the guts. Her organs and blood pooled around her as she stared up at me with glassy eyes.

No. No no no no no no no no no-

"Conrad? Conrad? Conrad!" I gasped, sucking in a breath of air like I'd come out of the water after going under. My eyes shot open. A white ceiling with a small chandelier greeted me. My palms were sweaty and cold. The world began to spin as I sat up. What time was it?

Glancing at the window, I noticed a bit of sunlight trickling in. The clock said 7:30 am.

"Co-Conrad, are you ok?" I blinked, willing the fuzziness at my periphery to go away. A look around the spacious guest room and there was Hans. And Misha. Hans hovered over me and Misha stood quietly at the base of the bed.

"I'm fi-fine. Why? What's up?" I gave him a smile that took more energy out of me then it should have. Exhaustion was threatening to pull me back into the realm of sleep and the only thing really keeping me awake was the prospect of what lay in said realm. I thought of Elise's glassy eyes.

Hans looked back at Misha. I couldn't gage whatever psychic language they were sharing. Hans looked back to me. 'It's just...erm, you-"

"You were screaming," Misha finally finished. There was a brief pause. "Well...sobbing actually."

I felt my face, relieved to find that any tears that might have been had dried up. The idea that they might have seen me crying perturbed me. I didn't need pity.

"What were you dreaming about?" Hans asked tentatively. I'm sure the smile I insisted on keeping was starting to creep him out. Forcing myself out of bed, I did a quick stretch and shrugged.

"Nothing. Don't remember. I'm fine."

"But-"

"I'm fine." Grabbing a shirt, jeans, and a towel, I began making my way to the bathroom. A firm grasp on my wrist stopped me. I turned to find Misha giving me a look. I couldn't describe it necessarily, only concluding that he didn't seem to happy. His browline and mouth were set in firm straight lines.

"You should really talk about this. It's not healthy keeping emotions suppressed."

Ah, Misha. Always the voice of reason. Always the comforting anchor keeping me tethered to the ground, presenting himself as a man of honesty and concern. Until I was no longer convenient. I gave him a sugary sweet smile and tilted my head a little to the side as I stared into pine green eyes.

"Oh, don't worry. You can drop the act. I already know you couldn't give less of a shit." My words caught him off guard for a moment which was just enough time to slip away and into the bathroom. It was funny that there was more solace in the cold white tiles of the large bathroom than out there. What I really needed, however, was a deep, dark, hidden little crevice to crawl into. I wanted reality to dissipate. Why was that such a hard thing to ask for?

The ruminating didn't end as I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth. Taking a peak outside showed that they were gone. The room was empty again. I lamented not having my clothes here with me. Most of my possessions were at my apartment. Except...

I grin overtook my face. I didn't have any plasticine to model a carving or a smaller chisel to re-create  the finer details of a sculptor but the coat pockets of the coat I had worn the night of the ball contained my bigger chisel and mallet. I carried them around as obsessively as my father had. All I needed was a nice piece of wood. Anything would do. I wasn't hoping for Franz Messerschmidt levels of intricacy and refinery. A quick run through the maze of a house and with a few pointers from the servants walking around, I was able to snag a nice block of pine, softer and easier to manipulate.

The rest of the morning was spent attempting to carve out a wolf's head. It was nowhere near my best work but it was calming. Familiar. Worries slowly melted away as the head gradually but surely took from. The trance was so deep, it took me a few seconds to process the knocks on my door.

Ross stood before me, a brow raised and arms crossed. His mouth was set in a firm line. I suppose he still was not quite over yesterday night.

"Misha noted that you would probably not be attending breakfast. Any reason why?" The touch of condescension, almost with the tone of a parent, irked me. I shrugged.

"Don't feel like it. Kinda busy at the moment."

Ross  gave me a once over which a bit more than just unsettling. Then he looked passed me and his expression seemed to shift. I was startled as he pushed his way into my room.

"What's this?" I thought he'd be annoyed at the peeled wood shavings littering the floor. Instead, his hands held the wolf carving and he observed with some sort of appreciation. For a moment, I could have sworn he was actually...impressed? That couldn't be right.

"I made it. It's whatever. I'm sure you see some, I dunno, high-end art. Rich, fancy sculptures all the time."

He snorted, his gaze looking over the form a few times before he glanced at me and set the carving down. A phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and frowned at the screen. I jokingly speculated on whether or not it was some omega boytoy or woman. Maybe it was unfair of me. The thoughts came naturally with notorious alphas like him.

"They're paid professionals with expensive tools and patrons. I'm sure with a few classes and practice and you'd be just as good, if not better."

I swallowed as he said that, his attention only partially on me. It was strange, getting compliments from someone like him. I truly wanted to believe they were genuine. I also knew I'd been a fool with these kinds of things one too many times.

"Thanks...I guess." The smile he gave me was nearly disarming. Just as my walls seemed to be chipping away, they shot right back up. No, no Conrad. His words don't mean anything. Remember the last time you thought someone actually cared?

That wasn't fair either. I had Elise, Declan, and James. Heartbreak did funny things to your mind. I shook my head and jumped when Ross..ruffled my hair. My mind short-circuited. I barely responded as he spoke, walking halfway out of the room.

"You better each lunch at least. Misha and Joe are taking you out later to grab your things from your apartment."

I wanted to say something. The idea of sitting in a car with Misha and Joe was more than enough anxiety fuel. He was already gone, however, and probably on some important business phone call leaving me to brood in my room.

-8-

The ride into Manhattan was long and awkward. I winced a little when we drove past Central Park. I wonder if Misha noticed. Joe was driving while he sat shotgun. I was content to sit behind and ignore them, keeping my eyes glued to the window of the sleek, black Rolls Royce and feel the leather upholstery. Every now and then, I could feel eyes on my. Joe was too busy yammering into his phone about some business-related thing I couldn't be bothered to comprehend so that only left Misha. I wondered if he was thinking about earlier. It's not like I was wrong. Misha had made it very clear that he never cared the year plus more that we had been together. The nights we lay together  in bed, the walks we went on, the personal talks.

I grit my teeth. There was a sharp pain in my chest. I was able to shove it down as we finally rolled up to my apartment. I wasn't paying attention but Joe's voice was enough to fill me in.

"You live here?" Despite the words, his tone was unclear. I couldn't tell if he was asking a simple question of clarification or if his bougie sensibilities had been ruffled. The latter idea brought a smirk to my face but I shrugged as I looked out the window. It wasn't the worst area. The people were nice enough. Most were just down trodden minimum wage workers and single parents struggling to make their way through in the world.

As we climbed out, I frowned. There was a cop car a few blocks away and a beer-bellied cop heading our way. He shook Joe's hand but his eyes were on me.

"You must be Conrad Fitzroy?"

I nodded.

"Right. I'm detective Miller. Apparently there was a break-in last night in your apartment but I understand that you were away?"

Both Joe and Misha perked up at the news, alert and looking troubled. They weren't as pale as I was however. Miller adjusted his cap as he asked if he could get a quick run-down of the situation. The landlord had already reported the break-in. There was a sign of forced entry through the door and the rest had been ransacked. Apparently, a neighbor, hearing the commotion, had come to check up on me but found a wide-open apartment that looked like it had been robbed and called it in. Miller relayed this all to me.

When I got done answering a few questions, numb and distant as I was, I felt a little jolt of anxiety when Miller mentioned one more thing before leaving. "There was a picture of a blue dragon graffitied on your bedroom wall. Know anything about that?"

Misha and Joe looked at me. I stared  back at them. I couldn't read anything in their expressions but at the very least we agreed this was not good. I cautiously let Miller know that some men harassing my place of work had that same tattoo. I left the rest out. Joe and Misha looked content. After questioning them for a bit, Miller waved a goodbye, gave me a sympathetic look, and was off.

"I'll go in," Misha said quietly. "You two stay out here."

I rolled my eyes, as I pushed past him. "It's fine. The fucker is gone and no one's gonna strike during the day time." I liked to think that my voice didn't betray any of the anxiety that I felt at this new development. If I had been here last night...

A hand on my shoulder stopped me. I jerked away and turned to look at Misha. His eyes were blank. "Let me go, Conrad. Just to be safe."

I sneered. "Why do you care? I'll be fine-"

The feeling of an arm around my waist had me dead in my tracks. I let out an embarrassing little  yelp of surprise as Joe wrangled me to his side, smiling and trying not to laugh like the asshole that he was.

"Let go, asshole!" I put my hands on his chest as a futile attempt to push away. "Let go!"

But Misha was already gone, having disappeared into the building while I tried to struggle out of Joe's arms.

"Asshole, hm? You gotta be a bit more creative than that, sweetheart."

"Fuck you!" I finally managed a kick to his shin. I liked to think I had actually hurt him but it was probably the surprise more than anything else that allowed me to break free of his grasp. That didn't stop his smirk unfortunately.

"Believe me, that is the one thing I would love to do."

I grit my my teeth as my cheeks began to flame. I tried to calm down, taking a deep breath and rubbing my face while making it a point too ignore his statement. I wasn't ready to give the bastard anymore material. We stood there in silence as a chilly wind swept up. I regretted on bringing a jacket. It was almost winter and the first snowfall wasn't too far away. After a few beats I glanced at Joe. I was surprised to find him looking up at the building. There was an unreadable expression on his face. I wonder what he saw.

It was a simple, brownish building of brick and concrete, smaller than most apartment complexes. A little run-down and dirty in spots. The parking lot was full of small weeds growing through the cracks in the asphalt and a bit of graffiti here and there. A few people shuffled by us, carrying bags from the nearby drugstore. They all eyed Joe's car and his expensive leather jacket. I found it all a bit insensitive.

"I would put the jacket away if I were you," I finally said.

Joe glanced over at me, seemingly surprised that I would be the first to engage him in conversation. "Why?" He smirked. "Is going to get stolen?"

I frowned, choosing not to rise the bait and start ranting. Instead, I said, "It's just not polite. Most people here work hard enough to afford food, healthcare, and saving up to send their kids to a nice college. I get this whole pack law shit and wanting to show whose in power but is it really necessary here?"

There was a pause. Joe looked back at the building. For a moment, I was resigned to the fact that he would probably just ignore me or call me a bleeding heart liberal, scoffing at the idea of listening to some delta. I was surprised when he took his jacket off and threw it in the front seat a moment later.

"You were always too nice for your own good."

I raised a brow and frowned. "Is that your attempt at an actual compliment to the lowly peasant? A for effort, I guess."

Joe chuckled as he folded back the sleeves of his button up to his elbows. "The shit you pulled to help Hans, the bullet you took...honestly, your going to get yourself into some fucking mess one day."

I shrugged as I mimicked him in leaning back against the Rolls Royce. It was strange. Surreal almost, to be having such a strangely cordial conversation with him. "I already seem to have a propensity for that. But hey, I survived the shit with you, didn't I?" It was always fun to take a slight jab. It eased the ache of enormous wounds if only for a little bit.

Joe didn't respond for a bit. The breeze had slowed down. It was a surprisingly nice day outside. The sky was a beautiful, shimmering blue that one rarely saw in late fall. I smiled as a looked up. It was then that I felt that burning gaze. Warily, I turned to him and raised a brow. He was definitely looking at me, only this time, he didn't even attempt to cover it up. It was an inscrutable look. It was only when he started leaning in that I realized how close we were. His lips brushed against mine. They lingered there. A bit chapped. My mind short-circuited.

"Ahem." I jumped back as I looked up to find Misha, his arms cross but his expression blank as ever. I didn't say anything. A boiling feeling of dread and confusion whisked around in my stomach as Joe turned back to his phone.

"You can grab you things now," Misha said simply. I nodded.

To say the car ride back home was awkward would be a gross understatement. This time, I actually spent some time scrolling through the phone they had given. Anything was better than engaging in the eerie and uncomfortable silence.

-8-

I tried to ignore the old wounds. It was like someone was pressing down on a bloody gash with the heel of their boot, twisting and turning and rubbing it in, making sure I felt every bit of the pain and aches. I was angry. Confused. Frustrated. I wanted to punch something. Preferably a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed alpha. What the hell gave him the right? After all the shit he's put me through?  Why were they fucking with me? I didn't notice the tears in my eyes until there was a knock on my door. I'd spent the rest of the day holed up in my room with the excuse that I needed to unpack my things. I had finished an hour ago but I would rather take another bullet then willing walk outside. The knocks were insistent, however.

"Conrad?" The muffled voice said. I groaned. At least it was Ross. With a heaving sigh, I wiped away the tears as I opened the door. I must not have done a fantastic job because Ross's gaze lingered on my cheeks where there were no doubt shiny streaks coming from my eyes. He paused as I gave a gruff, "what?".

"Are you ok?"

"Peachy." The fake concern was getting tiresome but I played along. Sardonically, of course.  Ross sighed.

"You're coming down to dinner. Misha and Hans cooked up something just for you."

I raised a brow. "And if I refuse?" My stomach went a bit queasy when he grinned an almost cheshire grin. It made me want to run and punch in his stupidly perfect teeth.

"Then I believe Joe will be more than willing to carry you down bridal style."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Language. And no. Normally I wouldn't force anyone but you've skipped breakfast and lunch today. The point is to keep you alive. Be ready in five minutes or I'm sending Joe up."

"But-" He was off before I could think to argue. With a sigh, I went to the bathroom to wash, steeling myself for the inevitable. At the very least, hans would be there. That was my only solace as I dragged myself downstairs, the worst of the worst thoughts running through my head as I tried to find the kitchen. The house was almost akin to a maze. Why it needed to be so ridiculously huge for a handful of people was beyond me.

Mulling over my thoughts, I finally managed to scout out the archway that lead to the bigger kitchen Hans had shown. It was the same one with the homey dining room and veranda  where we had watched the sun set. Where Joe had walked in on us. I shook my head. Right as I was about to enter, I heard some voices. I might have continued had I not heard my name. With a bit of hesitance, I waited outside the archway, not even daring to peek in. The voices, although low, were unmistakably Misha and Joe.

"....he isn't in the right frame of mind! You know that! You..."

That was Misha. Some parts were too quiet but I caught the gist of it as they continued.

"....and whose fault is that? Remember the shit you told him?"

"...both of us ok? It was both of us! We shouldn't have done it. But you.....kissing him!"

"Conrad?"

I let out an unmany yelp. The voices in the kitchen stopped. My face felt like it was a hundred degrees and probably as red as a tomato. Well shit.

Ross chuckled as he walked past me and through the archway. Hans trailed after him and gave me a small but encouraging smile. With a sigh, I walked through as well, coming face to face with both Misha and Joe. I was surprised to find that Joe had an arm hooked around Misha's waist, leaning into him with that signature smirk of his. Misha looked none too pleased and quickly shoved Joe away.

"Conrad! Co-come take a seat over there..." His accent tinged his words as he motioned to the dining room. I was surprised to find Misha stuttering and...was he blushing? It wasn't something the beta did often, that much I knew. I gave a tight nod and followed thee others.

We were all seated around the table. I felt a tangible awkwardness as the meal was passed around. Tenderloin steak with what looked like cooked asparagus and seasoned shrimp. As conversation picked up with Ross at the head of the table and me seated across from him, I dipped my head down a little, trying my best to ignore the others. It was a little too...domestic for me. The dining room was actually smaller and lit up with the warm colors coming from the light piece above. There was a scenic painting of a Scandinavian harbor to the wall on my right, opposite the archway. And the food. The food was fantastic. A rich combination of flavors touched my tongue as soon as I had taken a bite of the steak and shrimp. Everyone else seemed to be engaged in light conversation. Hans laughed at some joke Joe had made.

A queasiness overcame me. Imagine the feeling of having the people you thought had loved and cared for and then thrown you out, lied to you, cheated on you, all come together, having this lovely time, pretending that everything was ok. It was like some cruel, elaborate inside joke being played at my expense.

Maybe the world didn't revolve around me. Maybe the others had moved on. Maybe they hadn't even thought about the sting that went through my heart each time I saw one of them slide a hand over the other's. The thought hurt even more.

Sure, maybe they cared about my general well-being. They didn't want my death on their conscience. I knew at the very least that Hans cared. But they had each other. They were happy together. I would fade away as soon as this whole mess was over.

I pushed away the thought, trying to convince myself that I was over it too. I didn't a relationship. I had my friends. As soon as the Blue Dragons and Seraz were taken care of, I could go back to Tulach Hills. In the meantime, I'd sit carving in my room and talking to Hans.  It would be fine. They'd forget about me, I'd forget about them and ache would pass. It was all fine.

"Conrad? Are you liking the meal?" I perked up as I heard my name. Misha was looking at me, waiting for an answer. The others pretended to have a conversation but I could tell they were listening. I could tell Misha that it was terrible. It would be an obvious lie but I'd have the satisfaction of being a bitter contrarian. But maybe I was too tired to try. I was already and outsider and they had each other. The amount of emotional damage I had trudged wasn't something I wanted to inflict on others anyways.

"It's pretty good. I like it," I mumbled, dropping eye contact. I did glance up a second later to see a small smile on Misha's face.

"I'm glad. I wanted to try that recipe with you for a while."

Maybe you could have if you hadn't cheated and lied. I held back saying it outloud, however.

The dinner went on a little less tense. I mostly spoke with Hans  and occasionally listened in on Ross, Joe, and Misha. Just ast things seemed about ready to wrap up and I stood up to leave, Ross held out a piece of paper and a card to me. One was a check for $4,000  and the other was a credit card. I started.

"Erm, what is this?" I asked, a little lost. He looked at me like he expected me to take these. Ross didn't seem perturbed as Joe piped up.

"That's a check and the other is a credit card. You do know what a credit card is, right? Should I explain?"

I scowled and appreciated it just a little when Misha also turned to glare at Joe.

"I know what those are, dickbag. I mean, why are you giving them to me?"

"You really are dense,  sweetheart," Joe sighed.

"Joe," Ross and Misha both groaned.

He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender and stood as did everybody else.

"These are for you. Emergency money but really yours to spend on whatever you need. The card is one of mine that I rarely use. If you need anything, it'll be there," Ross said, matter-of-factly.

"No."

Ross blinked. Everyone else also seemed a little surprised. I waved the check and card away. "I don't need your money, ok? I'm not  a charity case. I'm fine without it."

"Your shitty apartment says otherwise," Joe chimed in helpfully.

I made a point to ignore him as Misha elbowed him. Turning back to Ross, I said, "I'm fine, ok?  I don't need donations."

Ross sighed heavily and seemed to be holding back something. Anger, frustration, take your pick. "This isn't because we pity you, Conrad. We care about your wellbeing. It's just a little money to keep with your needs. Take it."

"No." I made a move to leave the dining room but was quickly interceded by Hans. He looked worried.

"We-we just want to help you out, Conrad. We don't mean to make you feel, erm, vulnerable or anything-"

"Look, I get it!" There were a silence right after I raised my voice. I hadn't meant to yell, especially not at Hans but my irritation was growing and Hans just happened to be right in front of me. He let out a little whimper and I could hear a growl or two behind me. I felt like I was quickly losing control. Why did I always feel like that these days?

"I don't care if you're trying to be helpful. I can take care of myself. I've put myself through enough shit accepting money from an alpha who I thought would always be there and that put me on the fucking streets. So I don't need your money!" Pushing my way past Hans, I ran through the kitchen and found my way up the stairs to my room. Just as I had been leaving, I could have sworn Joe was ready to lunge at me. I could hears Ross's voice drifting in the back as I ran.

"Let him go. You've done enough."

As I locked the door, threw off my clothes and got ready to black out and push out the world for the next few hours of bliss, my mind played back the day. The dream, Misha, the kiss, the apartment, the dinner.

The old wounds I thought might have even partially healed suddenly felt fresh and newly cut.

-8-

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