Chapter 81 – Quinn's place

Quinn's hesitation was written all over her face, but when she asked to tell her story somewhere private, I felt an odd mix of triumph and unease. She trusted me enough to share her pain. But the weight of it, the unknown, settled in my chest like a ticking bomb. I nodded and told her, "I know a place."

Derek gave me a hard look as we headed for the car, his jaw tight. I could feel his silent judgment drilling into the side of my head, but I ignored him. This wasn't his concern. Not now. Quinn followed me, her footsteps hesitant but deliberate, as if every step carried the burden of those five lost years she was about to uncover.

"QW Inn," I told Derek, expecting him to know where we were going. Quinn glanced at me once, her brows furrowed in question, but she didn't speak. The drive was quiet, charged with tension so thick it was suffocating. When we turned into the long driveway of QW Lodge, I felt her shift in the seat beside me, her sharp intake of breath breaking the silence.

"This… This is…" Her voice faltered as her gaze swept over the property.

Her old home.

The Lodge was more than restored—it was transformed. The gardens were vibrant, with neat rows of colorful blooms that framed a sparkling pond. The fountain in the center caught the sunlight, cascading water like a shimmering veil. The entrance looked modern, with sleek panels and elegant touches that still somehow felt welcoming.

"Who owns this now?" she asked, her tone cautious, her eyes flickering with a mix of awe and confusion.

"You do."

Her head snapped toward me, her mouth parting in disbelief. "What do you mean, I do? I thought when my parents died, and I disappeared…"

I cut her off, knowing the memories behind those words would only deepen her pain. "I handled the paperwork. It's all in your name now. Your parents dreamed of running it as an inn, so I made that happen. People come from all over to stay here. There's a manager who runs it day-to-day, and they report to me if anything needs attention."

She blinked at me, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't quite process it. "You… You did all this? It looks like a hotel."

I shrugged, trying to downplay the effort it took. "Technically, yes. But it's still called an inn to keep that homely feel."

Quinn stepped out of the car, her eyes roaming over every detail, drinking it in like she was seeing a piece of her soul she thought she'd lost. I followed her inside, watching her reaction as she took in the marble floors, the modern finishes. Her gaze lingered on the chandeliers—those were the same, untouched. A small piece of her past in a sea of changes.

I led her to the back of the house, stopping in front of a door. "Your old room," I said, pushing it open.

Her gasp was soft, barely audible, but it hit me like a thunderclap. Everything was exactly as she left it. The bed, the dresser, even the little knickknacks on the shelves. It was like walking into a time capsule.

"Why?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Because too much has changed," I said. "I wanted at least one thing to stay the same for you."

Before I could react, she threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a hug so tight it stole my breath. I froze, startled, before my arms came around her, holding her just as tightly. Her scent was intoxicating, a blend of familiarity and something uniquely Quinn.

Her voice broke as she whispered, "Thank you for this… For keeping this place alive, for burying my parents, for giving them a beautiful funeral. Thank you for everything."

I pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face. "How did you know about that?"

She smiled, a sad, knowing smile that left me with more questions than answers. "I just know. And it means so much, Luca. Truly."

Her gratitude hit me like a punch to the gut. It wasn't enough. Not even close. My smile faded. "Not enough," I muttered, shaking my head.

I took her hand and led her outside, to the back garden. The air was cool and fragrant with the scent of flowers. The centerpiece of the garden was a glass-walled pavilion, circular and elegant, with a beautiful table and chairs inside. The roof was shaded, and the words Quinn's Place were etched in French on the glass door.

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide with awe. "Luca… This is exquisite. I don't even know how to thank you."

"You do," I said, pushing the door open. "Let's sit. You can tell me everything."

Her awe turned to hesitation. "What if there are wolves in the forest? What if Cale's spies are watching?"

I smirked, the dangerous edge in my expression making her raise a brow. "This pavilion is soundproof and ventilated. Nobody will hear us. It can be our meeting place from now on if you want. The inn manager has already arranged refreshments."

I pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down slowly, still taking in the space. I leaned back in my chair, watching her carefully. Every move she made, every twitch of her fingers, every glance she threw toward the garden—I saw it all. She was nervous, and I couldn't blame her. Her eyes lingered on the glass walls of the pavilion as if they'd shatter at any moment, as if someone—or something—was watching us from beyond the tree line.

"You're safe here, Quinn," I reminded her, folding my hands on the table. "Nobody's getting in, and nobody's listening."

Her gaze snapped back to mine, sharp and piercing. For a moment, I thought she might bolt, run right out of here and disappear like she had five years ago. But she stayed. Her breathing was shallow but steady, and I knew that look. She was gearing up for something big. I'd seen it on the faces of warriors about to charge into battle.

"This…" she started, her voice barely more than a whisper. "This isn't something I've… I've ever said out loud, Luca." Her fingers curled into the hem of her sweater, twisting the fabric. "I'm not even sure where to start."

"Start from the beginning - the moment you disappeared from my grasp," I said softly, leaning forward. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes darting to the glass walls again. Her gaze shifted to the embossed letters on the door—"Quinn's Place"—and something in her shoulders seemed to ease. Just a bit.

She took a breath so deep it sounded like she'd been holding it for hours. Her eyes stayed on the table in front of her, not on me. "Five years ago," she said slowly, like each word was dragged out of her chest with hooks, "everything just… changed. Cale had me, my parents died, I was alone." Her voice cracked on the last word, and I saw her jaw tighten like she'd bite through steel to hold it together.

I'd never seen her like this. Strong, yes. Stubborn, absolutely. But this? This was broken glass held together with tape, and every second, I watched it fray.

"I tried to escape," she went on, her voice thick with something I wasn't sure she even understood. "Tried everything to get back to my family...to get back to you. After I found out I pretended they'd just… come back." She let out a bitter laugh, one that had no humor in it at all. "Stupid, huh?"

"Not stupid," I said firmly, my eyes locked on her. "Human."

She glanced at me, just a flicker of her gaze before she looked away again. Her eyes were glassy now, and I saw it—the tears she refused to let fall. "I—I—" she stammered, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands like she could scrub the memories away. "I should've just gave in when he asked. Should've… should've let it go sooner then they would still be alive." Her hands dropped to the table, and her gaze hardened. "But I didn't."

"Let what go, Quinn?" My voice was calm, but inside, I was barely holding it together. I'd never seen her like this, and I'd be damned if I let her break alone. "Tell me."

She swallowed hard. Her hands were trembling now. "Me. My innocence. My dignity."

My blood ran cold. I knew it before she said it, but hearing it was a different thing. My chair scraped against the marble as I stood, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet space. "Where is he now?" I growled, already ready to leave. "I'll tear him apart, Quinn. Tell me where."

"No!" she yelled, shooting to her feet and slamming her hands on the table. The sound echoed like thunder. "No, Luca!" Her chest heaved with every breath, and for the first time, her eyes met mine—full of fire and fury and pain all at once. "You can't. You don't understand. It's not just him. It's… it's bigger. It's bigger than us."

"I don't care how big it is," I snapped, my heart pounding against my ribs like a war drum. "He dared to touch you—"

"Luca." Her voice cracked like glass under pressure. She sat back down, slowly this time, like all the fight had drained out of her. Her hands came up to cover her face, and her breath came out in shallow, shaky gasps. "He… he broke me." Her voice was so small, so fragile, I barely heard it. "Over and over and over again."

I sat down slowly, my heart twisting into knots inside my chest. My fingers curled into fists on my knees. I wanted to touch her, but I knew better. She'd been strong for so long that one gentle hand might make her fall apart.

"He stole all those powers I had," she said, her hands still covering her face. "I've been tormented and tortured by him for so long, so I had to give in and submit. I'm so tired, Luca." Her hands lowered, and her eyes met mine, full of something I'd never seen from her before.

Hopelessness.

"Nobody will hurt you ever again," I said, and it wasn't a promise—it was a vow. "Not him. Not anyone. You hear me, Quinn?" My eyes didn't leave hers. "He's done. He's finished."

She looked away, her gaze settling on the door marked "Quinn's Place." For a moment, I thought she'd cry. Her shoulders shook, and she wiped at her eyes, but when she turned back to me, her face was steel.

"You want to know everything, Luca?" Her voice was hollow now, but steady. "Fine. You'll get it all. But once I tell you, there's no going back. You'll be in this as deep as I am."

"I'm already in it," I said, eyes locked on hers. "You know that."

She nodded slowly, her gaze burning with something raw and wild. "Then sit tight, wolf," she said, her voice like the calm before a storm. "You're about to hear the story of my life."