Chapter Song: You Are the Apple - Lady Lamb
XX
"Jack," I whisper, and he grimaces. "Is it him?"
I push from the wall and step toward the room behind him, feeling his desire to reach out to me even as I pass him.
"Come on, Layla."
"Is it him?"
He's stepping into the room after me, quicker than I can move, until his body is blocking my way. The trill of the ringtone sets blood rushing through my ears, and when I take another step Jack finally reaches for me. His fingers curl around my arms and he pulls me a little closer, blocking even my view of the phone. "It isn't worth it," he says, and his voice is once again a growl. "Why would you want to talk to him?"
"If my life is being bartered I want to be involved."
"I'm not bartering with him. I'm not answering his calls."
"What if he gives me information about Paul? He won't be expecting me to answer."
"No, Layla."
"Jack," I drag in a breath and try to tug out of his grasp. "Let go of me."
"Just let it go."
"You can't dictate what I can and can't do."
"Christ, Layla, I'm trying to help you. He nearly killed you, he doesn't deserve to talk to you."
"But Paul—"
"Isn't worth that conversation."
"Let go of me."
"Layla—"
"Get your fucking hands off of me!"
He screws his eyes shut and heaves a sigh like a snarl before dropping his hands. When I move past him, he looks after me with a dark expression. "Layla," he warns again, but I'm already picking up his phone. Jack doesn't move to stop me now, and there's a glint of something like worry in his eye. Maybe he's afraid I'll find out something I shouldn't.
I answer the phone and hold it to my ear, and there is a heavy silence on the other end.
"Courtland," Isaac growls. His voice is like a knife, like a fucking knife. It knocks the air from my lungs and I find I can't say anything at all. "Are you going to say something?"
But I can't, I absolutely can't. Maybe Jack was right, maybe knowledge of Isaac, of what is said without my input, will only make me suffer more. I try to pull in a breath but nothing comes. There's a long pause, and I realize that Isaac is holding his breath too.
"Layla?" His voice is so soft now, so horribly hopeful. "That's you isn't it."
"Yes."
I hear the sharp intake of breath. "Are you okay?" His voice is hollow, a little shaken. He doesn't want to know the answer.
"I'm alive." I glance up to find Jack watching me, shoulders tight like he's ready to knock the phone out of my hand.
"Is he keeping you there?"
I try to speak but can't. Did he expect that Jack would stop me from leaving? And is that what's happening here? "No," I lie.
"You can't trust him, Layla."
"I don't."
"Look," he begins, and his voice is so soft, so gentle. Like he used to whisper to me after we'd had sex, when he would hold me and make me feel whole again for just a little while. "I need to talk to you."
"We're talking now, aren't we?"
"I want to explain everything to you, but not over the phone. I just want to see you, Layla, I want to know that you're okay. I want—"
"But I don't want that, Isaac."
I picture the tightness in his jaw as he tries to reign in his anger. If I were there with him, this would be going differently. "There are things you need to know. I want to explain to you why I did what I did."
"I don't want an explanation."
"Just give me a chance to talk to you, that's all I'm asking. You can bring Courtland and as many wolves as you want. I just want to talk."
Why would he agree to something like that? He has to know that the council found bodies in his yard. He has to know what would happen if he got caught. "Tell me about Paul and I'll consider it."
Isaac goes deadly quiet, and it strikes me that perhaps Paul is there with him now; perhaps our call has an audience greater than just Jack. "What do you want to know?"
"Who is he?"
"Honestly, Layla, I don't really know."
"Are you working for him?"
"Not anymore."
"Did he tell you what he wants with me?"
Silence, again. I look up to where Jack is watching me carefully, evidently swayed by how easily Isaac is willing to talk now. "He wants to break the curse."
"What curse?"
"Every curse, the curse we get for disobeying the gods." I can hear the change in his breath when he walks, and for a brief moment I miss the familiarity of his voice. Not the hurt, or the violence, or the terror that he's come to embody, but something before that. I miss the moments where it felt like I could love him. I hate him for ruining me. "You've got to come back, Layla. I need you. I can protect you; Courtland is going to sell you out."
Jack did offer to have my dad here in two hours. Would he really do that? Or does he understand that I can't bear to face my family after what's happened? Maybe if I did ask it would be Paul who shows up, not my dad.
"Is Paul—is he why you wouldn't let me leave?"
"Yes," Isaac grits outs. "But Layla—"
"And why did he want you to keep me? Why not just come for me himself?"
"I don't know." I can hear the lie in his voice.
"Is he why you...did what you did to me?"
For a moment I only hear Isaac's breath, and then, "No."
From the middle of the room, Jack is still staring at me. He runs a hand over his face and settles into a couch against the adjacent wall. We're in an office, I realize, his office. There are papers scattered around the desk in front of me, and I let my eyes slide over them, not really reading anything on the page.
"I care about you, Layla. I want to do this again and do it right, I want to protect you like I couldn't before."
"You'll protect me, will you," I breathe. I wish the anger would fan itself like it does with anyone else. My temper has always been reliable, a constant; but with Isaac I can't summon any biting words. In my mind at least, I'd wanted to tell him how he hurt me, how wholly I hate him. But it takes all of me to just keep him talking. "You told Jack you wanted to make a deal for me. What did you offer him?"
A pause, again. Isaac has never been one to think before he speaks. And then I hear it, a strange shifting of clothing that I don't think is Isaac's. I think someone is there with him; I think he's measuring his words. "Money," he says. "Secrecy."
"What else?"
"That's it. That's all I have to offer. But he knows if he gives you to Paul he'll be able to break this curse, so he won't let you go."
"And how should I break this curse?"
"I don't know."
"What would happen to me?"
"I don't know, Layla. Nothing good."
"If you care about me, how could you ask me to come back to you?"
Silence.
"Don't you get it, Isaac? I never want to see you again—how could you expect me to want you after everything? What you did—"
"I did for you."
"Bullshit! Do you actually believe that? Are you that fucking—"
"Layla," he says, his voice low and soft but simultaneously so sharp it cuts my words short. "There is only so much begging that I am willing to do here."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" My anger is breaking through, and so is his.
"You think I'm going to let this slide?"
It's my turn to fall silent, and I hazard a glance at Jack, who is staring hard at me. I wonder if he can hear the conversation, or if he's simply predicted how it will play out.
"What's happened every single time you've tried to leave?"
"I'm hanging up now."
"No, you're not. Because you need to hear what I have to say to you."
I drag in a breath. "And what's that?"
"This isn't over, Layla. Not until I say it is. So enjoy your fling with Courtland while you can."
"You're so full of shit, Isaac," I whisper. "You always have been."
"You know I'm not. You know what I'm capable of." The evenness of his voice is chilling, a dreadful pointed threat. "You know what's going to happen when I find you."
I press my arm to my stomach and stare at Jack's desk, wondering if he's already seen the terror on my face. But Isaac is right—I can't hang up, I have to hear what he has to say. And I do know what will happen, what would happen if he found me.
"But if you came back now, I'd forgive you for fucking me over."
"You're still a liar."
He laughs, a jagged sound. "I'm not lying about this, Layla. If you knew what was good for you, you'd quit this bullshit now and come home."
"I don't believe you," I manage. "And even if I did, it wouldn't matter."
"Then believe me when I tell you, when I find you—and trust me that it will be sooner rather than later—I will fucking ruin you. I will hurt you in ways you didn't realize a person could hurt someone else."
"You already have."
"Oh, Layla," he growls. "You don't even know the start of it."
"I'm hanging up," I try again, but I don't move.
"I'll break your fucking legs so you can never leave again. I'll ruin your wolf until you can't stand to shift. I'll make you want to—"
A hand closes over mine and gently guides the phone down to my side, my fingers still clutched around it. Jack presses the end button but doesn't try to pry it away from me
"You okay?"
I realize that I'm not really breathing. I nod and drag in a breath, and then somehow I begin to shake my head. Finding my way to the couch, I settle onto one end and pull my knees up to my chest. It hurts; my body doesn't want to bend like this right now, but I want to become as small as I feel in this moment. Jack sits at the far end of the couch and leans forward with his elbows on his knees, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
"Could you hear?"
A pause, then, "Yes."
"I think Paul was there with him."
At this, Jack looks quickly up. "When we spoke before, he wouldn't let me talk to Paul. I tried to call the number but he won't pick up; it's like he knows it's me."
"I still don't trust you," I begin, but no other words follow.
Jack's lips turn in a ghost of a smile and he looks away. "I don't really blame you."
"It would help if you at least tried to tell me the truth." He's quiet, and I force myself to look at him, at the worry that's darkening his face again. "Do you know how long it's been since I've felt sure about anything?"
"Okay," he breathes. "Okay. What do you want to know?"
"What did Isaac offer you?"
He screws his eyes shut and looks away. "Money, a lot of money. More than I think he has."
"What else?"
"He said he could break the curse. He knew things...things Paul must have told him...about me, and about the pack. About you. He said I'd be helping to create a future that isn't driven by the gods." He's quiet, and I can tell there's more. "He offered me girls, and discretion. And you."
"Me?" The word barely makes a noise, and Jack doesn't look up.
"He said if you were what I wanted out of this, that I could have you, that Paul could make you listen once all of this was over. He said you—" Jack bites his lip and shakes his head. "Sorry, Layla."
How desperate must he be to be willing to offer me as well? What exactly is Paul holding over him?
"You believe in the curse."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Jack runs a hand over his face, and I scoot closer to him on the couch so he can't avoid me. Finally, he looks at me, darkness in his eyes that makes my breath catch. "Things were bad here for awhile."
"How bad?"
"Some people got sick. We had to quarantine everyone, but too many people died, and some kids too. All of the symptoms pointed to smallpox."
"What?" I breathe. With no guarantee of vaccine safety for wolves, we're completely vulnerable to so many eradicated diseases; but never smallpox. Never something so extreme or so horrific.
"I don't know if it's true," he says softly. "But Isaac said the curse targets something we care deeply about. Something we see as vital to our identity. He said his curse makes him drive away the people he wants the most."
"What?" My voice is breathless, no air in my lungs.
"After dad died, I tried to step up to lead in his place. But everything went wrong, people started dying. They lost faith in me."
Cam lost his family and friends, his community. Sam was repeatedly sacrificed for the man he gave everything for. And me...I lost my freedom.
"But there's always a choice, we're constantly choosing our own fate."
"Maybe our choices are more entwined with fate than we realize. Maybe a curse is only the fate we receive when we stray from the path we're meant to follow."
"So you think...you think that if I'd gone with you that night, that none of this would have happened to your pack."
"Layla..."
"You think I singlehandedly spread smallpox among your community, I killed Cam's loved ones, I made Isaac hurt me."
"No!"
"Why not just hand me over to Paul then? If there's any chance that he could break the curse without you being handcuffed to me for the rest of your life, why wouldn't you do it?"
"Layla—"
"No, tell me, Jack—if you let go of your savior complex, what would stop you from just ending all of this and getting on with your life?"
"I just—"
"Do you think you're a better person than Isaac just because—"
"Layla," he grits, loud enough to make my words falter and fizzle out. "People around me keep dying, and I don't know how to stop it. Why would I let you die too?"
"Because it would be easier," I whisper.
"Than what? What about letting someone die is easy?"
"You should hate me after everything, you know."
"Maybe, but I don't."
"Because you pity me instead."
He doesn't say anything, and I know I'm right. We sit in silence for a long while, Jack staring after me while I try to look at anything in the room but him. The phone rings again and we hold our breath.
"Layla," he says softly, and it isn't the hesitant, pitying voice from before. It's dark and sad and haunting. "Are you okay?" It's a question asked from another who is so far from okay himself.
I let me mind slip over the question a few times, and I realize that my body is rigid, that it has been every since I heard Isaac's voice. I hate that some small, strange part of myself wishes he could still be something that he isn't. I hate knowing that in my gut, in my core, I understand that it was easier to belong in a place where my role was chosen for me, where I gave up control entirely to someone else. It was letting go, and now I have only the fear of ever trying to let go again, or even loosen my hold. I shake my head, and then again, and then I start to cry.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," I manage, but there's a part of me that wants to spill my soul. "I want to be alone."
I ease off the couch with a pained hiss and Jack follows my movements, eyes scanning my face.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Too bad."
"Just stay here, will you? I'll just work for a bit and it'll be like I'm not even here."
"Jackson," I say, softly, and the way he looks at me so gently makes me nearly choke on my words. "You are the last person I want to be around."
He's quiet, letting his response simmer before he nods his head slowly. "I'll call Sage. Is that okay?"
"That's...that's fine."
I watch him as he dials the number, and he turns away as he talks to Sage. The words don't seem to sink into my ears as I look at him—he's my match. He's bound to me by fate, and he saved my life, and I am at his mercy. And I just don't know how to forgive him for that, even when he didn't ask for any of this either. And somehow, no matter how much vitriol and bitterness I throw at him, he's unfazed. If I spoke to Isaac that way...
But he isn't Isaac, and maybe I've been unfair in comparing him so often. And maybe my fate is to be forever bound to him, so maybe it doesn't matter who he really is or what he really wants from me.
"Sage is on her way," he says, and I realize that I've been staring at him, and that he's noticed. "I know we got off on the wrong foot. And I know I'm...I'm sorry for not giving you more space."
"Thanks," I whisper. "For your honesty."
"I won't keep anything else from you, if that's what you want."
"That's what I want."
He dips his head and is about to speak when Sage knocks gently on the door. She glances at my tearstained cheeks and narrows her gaze slightly at Jack. "I was gone for ten minutes, you two."
"I'm going to do a border run. If you need anything, call Dean—he should be out in the shop." Jack gives me a brighter smile than I anticipate, and I'm reminded again of when I first met him, at the polished, upright exterior he so effortlessly pulls around him. And then he's gone, and it feels strangely like a punch to the gut that I actually succeeded in pushing him away.
"Come on," says Sage, looping her arm with mine. "It's beautiful outside."
And I give in to her and let her lead me from the room and to my new winter clothes, through the house and snow-covered yard that I don't yet know is freedom or a new prison.
XX
Feels good to be writing again <3 What a fucking year, I tell ya.
Thanks for being patient with me while I get my life back on track! It's so lovely to be able to return to this community, you guys are the best.