Bound by Obsession (Shadowed Souls #2)

10. Chapter Ten

T he Deja vu of standing in the police station entrance ended once we were shown through to a meeting room. A box of silver and gray, a steel table and hard chairs. The officer was dubious about letting four men accompany me inside so we settled on just Dax coming in whilst the rest gave statements elsewhere.

Three hours of repeating everything from my childhood, about Fredrick’s arrest, my adoption, my mom’s death, the attack at Huxley’s mansion and ultimately Huxley being shot. It all had to come back out, stopping short of the discovery of mine and Wyatt’s genetics. Whatever reason my mom and Nixon had to keep that truth hidden, I need to respect it. Something bigger is at play which I don’t want the police meddling in. Chances are I’ll end up just as a case file forgotten on a desk anyway.

“So, just to clarify,” Officer Dunsford repeats, leaning closely to his recording device. “You believe your biological father is stalking you, but you do not think these letters are of any concern?” He withdraws pieces of paper from his brown folder and spreads them out in front of me. Photocopies of Mr. XO’s letters - all of the ones I handed over to the police anyway. A few I kept back, tucked away. The emotion that bleeds from the letters seems personal and the connection I’ve built in my head between those words and the author…it’s not something I can or want to explain. Instead, I cross my arms defensively and sit back in the chair.

“Again, no. I know my…sperm donor,” I use when ‘father’ seems too far a stretch. “I know how he talks.” That’s all I wish to say on the matter. Officer Dunsford presents a detailed timeline, pointing out the coincidence of dates the letters were received and Fredrick Walters’ prison privileges increasing. The more freedom he had to writing supplies and sending mail, the more letters happened to appear in my name. But I’m not listening. There’s no way a man who used to spit on me and curse that I ruined everything good in his life, would write that I’m the light on his darkest day. It’s not a truth I’m willing to face.

Instead, I shift my focus. Dax is a stoic, solid presence beside me, yet to react to anything he’s heard inside this room. He most likely thought they knew it all from my transcripts, but the thorough officer opposite has brought some things to light that not even I wanted to remember. I wonder if Dax will keep it all to himself, an unspoken secret between us. Or if he’ll wait for a quiet moment out of my earshot to tell the others. They tell each other everything. Perhaps I want him to. It would save me repeating it all, if this unconventional relationship we’ve fabricated is going to continue growing and deepening. Fuck it, I’ll just ask for a copy of the recording and get it over with.

“Miss Hughes?” Officer Dunsford frowns. Dax’s knee nudges mine, snapping me back to the present.

“Huh? Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked if you feel safe in your present company or if you feel the need for police assistance? Given the seriousness of your father’s past crimes, we could arrange a surveillance team to keep watch?” I cringe at the word ‘father’. Fredrick doesn’t deserve any such title. A shudder runs through me and the fight I previously held onto so dearly, vanishes. This is it. I will always be connected to him. His daughter. His victim.

“Um, I’m not…” I chance a look at Dax. His icy blue eyes are open and inviting, awaiting my response. He doesn’t try to sway my decision or tell me what he thinks best. He’s following my lead. “I’m not too sure where we’re going to be staying,” I admit. “It’s something I need to discuss with…” I swallow, “with the others. We’re a team, you see?” I look away from Officer Dunsford’s penetrating gaze.

What must he be thinking? A naive young woman escorted into the station by four six-foot jocks in sweatpants and expensive sneakers. I glance at the mess of papers covering the table, subconsciously picking out words like abused and exploited. I must look like a poster for women with daddy issues clinging onto those who shower me with attention. I suddenly feel small, my shoulders rounding.

“We’re done here,” Dax announces, curling a hand around my waist. He tugs me to stand, not waiting for Officer Dunsford to stop flustering around with papers and rushed questions. Instead, Dax stops us by the door, casting a strong glance backward. “Avery is more than safe in our company. If you want to help, locate Nixon Hughes. We haven’t been able to contact him for weeks.”

Despite digging my heels in, Dax maneuvers me from the room to the trio waiting on a row of seats. I glance at each of them curiously. They’ve been trying to call Nixon for me? To come and collect me or to get answers. I dread that it’s the former. Garrett is on his feet first but somehow Axel closes the gap between us quicker, grabbing me in a tight hug. Garrett tries to tackle me free but Axel turns, shielding me with his body. It’s a display that probably shouldn’t be happening in a police station, but I can’t help the smile that melts away my worries. Being in my head for too long is never a good thing.

“It’s not been that long,” I murmur against Axel’s shoulder.

“Longest three hours of my life,” he replies, his lips against my temple. Releasing me, I catch Officer Dunsford’s slightly raised brows as he exits the room, a brown folder tucked until his arm. Dax steps into my vision, blocking out all else.

“We need to talk,” he addresses everyone. A lump lodges in my throat. He’s going to tell them everything I said now? While I’m standing right here and there are police officers milling around the desks at Huxley’s back?

“What’s happening?” Huxley stands last, creating a circle of muscle with me stuck in the middle. A cage, but not one I’m eager to escape.

“It’s time to decide where we’re going and what we’re doing here,” Dax’s voice and face remain impassive. “They want to set up surveillance for Avery, but we can’t do that if we keep hotel hopping. Are we even going back to Waversea after the holidays?” I gasp, stunned Dax would even consider not returning to school. He can’t drop out, not after all of his hard work and not for me. My protests die on my tongue when a hand smooths around my hip. I don’t even look at who it is since others are quickly joining. Soft touches giving as much comfort as they seek.

“My place is already a bust. He’s been there,” Huxley grunts with annoyance. “And Hughes Manor is obviously out.”

“Dax and I don’t have homes to return to,” Garrett lifts one shoulder and twists his lips. All pairs of eyes turn to Axel. I quickly discover the hand on my hip is his, since it tightens enough to bruise.

“Fuck no,” Axel shakes his head. “No, no. Absolutely not.” No one speaks but their expectant looks are loud enough. Licking his lips, Axel ducks his jaw inward. “Dudes, my mom still lives there. You can’t ask me to…I can’t just stroll in and…She still holds her parties, you know.” My heart cracks in two at the look of pain contorting his face. Turning fully, I cup Axel’s cheek and bring his forehead down to mine.

“You’re never going back,” I breathe. Axel sighs but he leans into me, using my body to hold him upright for a moment. Then he steps away and I twist my head. “And no one is dropping out of school. I’ve lost enough of my life to this asshole. He doesn’t get to dictate what we do.”

“Here,” Huxley removes his wallet from his pocket and hands it to Axel. I track the movement with suspicion. “Find us a cabin or similar. Something discreet, book it out for at least a couple of weeks and don’t tell any of us the details until we get there.”

“It’s as good an idea as any,” Dax adds, looking to me for confirmation. I nod, a determined set to my jaw.

“Agreed. We need to stay off the radar for a bit.” I suppress the pang of guilt at the use of ‘we’, despite this whole problem stemming from my past. These men could walk away and no one would blame them, except themselves. Axel takes the wallet, a reluctant acceptance in his eyes.

“I’ll get it sorted.” Mentioning his home has clearly unsettled him, but he does his best to hide it. Perhaps I just know where to look. The tension between us is stifling, even though our unity in that moment is evident. These men know what’s at risk, what’s at stake, and they’re staying with me anyway. Turning away from the officer’s desks, we head for the exit.

“While Axel is sorting out accommodation, we should talk security,” Huxley says, his voice firm.

Garrett nods. “Some cameras and motion sensors would be a good idea. And dare I say it,” his dark eyes sweep around and his voice lowers, “it might be worth thinking about having a weapon on hand.” I sense his discomfort. Garrett was visibly spooked when he found the gun at Hughes Manor. The Shadowed Souls may have a reputation with their fists, but they are way out of their league if we’re thinking about strapping knives to our thighs and packing pistols. However, Dax scratches his chin in thought.

“I can reach out to my cousin. He might be able to get us what we need, quickly and discreetly.” I swallow hard, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I don’t want them to be forced into people they’re not. I don’t want them crossing a moral line for me, but the alternative is worse. I can’t let them come to any harm - again.

With the seriousness of what’s to come sinking in, we push open the main doors and are temporarily blinded by a harsh winter sun. Once we step out of this station, we’re on our own. Forced to face my past to secure a future where laughter and sweet kisses are an hourly occurrence. I focus on that image. A pile of limbs weighing me down each morning, of clinking wine glasses over board games and movie night huddles. We have to have a goal, and we can’t afford any mistakes.

But we don’t get that far. “Miss Hughes?” a voice calls out laced with urgency. I look beyond the walls of muscle behind me to see Officer Dunsford rushing forward, a phone in his hand. Raising a brow, I slip free to greet him in the hallway. “I managed to get a hold of your - of Mr. Hughes for you.” Placing the phone in my hand, I just frown at it. Then my arm snaps and I press the receiver to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Avery,” Nixon says with a hint of relief. I’m frozen by a flood of emotion ranging from elation to where-the-fuck-have-you-been.

“Nixon?” I question, still playing catch up. “How- Why haven’t you answered any of my calls?”

“It’s safer that way,” Nixon quickly snaps back to his usual authoritative self. “But judging that this call was just passed over to me from a police station, I’m guessing things have escalated.” My thoughts collide, one not able to finish before another takes over in a bid to be heard. Who’s passed the call over, how much does Nixon know, what is he not telling me? I stutter over myself, turning away from the officer.

“What things? What’s happening here?!” I rush to ask. I’m quickly shut down.

“There isn’t any time,” Nixon snaps impatiently. The surprised expression on my face is met with a showcase of darkening scowls by the Shadowed Souls watching me. “Listen carefully. I need you and Wyatt to pack and meet me somewhere safe. I’ll send you an encrypted email with the location. The password is Cathy’s special place. It’s imperative you drive here, no airports. Only tell Wyatt where you are going, avoid public places and hotels. You can’t trust anyone.” Despite the phone being pressed uncomfortably against my ear, the voice speaking might as well be a million miles away. None of the familiarity I’m used to is present, as if I’m talking to a stranger. Nixon has never been so formal with me, which only heightens my panic.

“Okay but, um,” I struggle to comprehend and I hear Nixon’s frustration. Might as well just come out with it. “Wyatt isn’t actually here right now...” Nixon’s scoff holds a heavy dose of disappointment.

“Well who the hell is with you?!” He asks and then groans as if he already knows the answer. Nixon may be showing many sides of his personality I’ve never known before, but he will always be well versed in Wyatt’s lifestyle choices. His words become gritted, as if he’s speaking through his teeth. “Just tell me your safety is being taken seriously.”

“It is,” I reply immediately.

“Fine. Pass me over to whichever one of Wyatt’s goons you trust the most. The one you think would value your life above their own.”

My eyes widen, sliding over each of the Shadowed Souls. They’re all waiting, a mixture of arms crossed and hands stuffed in pockets. Garrett’s smirk is a distant memory, replaced with a firm line of seriousness. It doesn’t suit his handsome face. Axel’s hazel eyes are glazed with worry, his shoulder leaning against Dax. Inhaling deeply, I pull my bottom lip into my teeth and make a decision. The one who would value my life over his own. Extending my arm, I pass the phone over.

“Nixon wants to talk to you, Huxley.”