Chapter 11 Small Kindness
Jolie POV
I spend the next two days trying to be invisible.
It's harder than it sounds in a compound full of bikers who notice everything. But I manage to slip through routines like a ghost - helping in the kitchen before anyone else wakes up, doing laundry in the basement while everyone's busy with pack business, staying in my room when the common areas get crowded.
I'm good at being invisible. I've had years of practice.
The cuts on my hands are healing, though they still throb when I grip things too tightly. Doc offered to rewrap them yesterday, but I told him they were fine. The less attention I draw, the better.
I'm in the garage now, trying to organize the tool area without touching anything too expensive. Knox found me here an hour ago and just nodded before going back to work on his bike. He doesn't seem to mind my presence as long as I stay quiet and out of the way.
That's when the tears start.
I don't know why they come now. Maybe it's the smell of motor oil and metal that reminds me of my father's workshop back home. Maybe it's the way Knox hums while he works, unconscious and content. Maybe it's just the weight of trying to hold everything together finally catching up with me.
Whatever the reason, once they start, I can't stop them. I sink down behind a stack of tires and cry as quietly as I can, pressing my face into my knees.
"Rough day?"
I look up to find Knox standing a few feet away, wiping his hands on an oil-stained rag. His massive frame blocks out most of the overhead light, but his expression is gentler than I've ever seen it.
"I'm sorry," I say, scrambling to stand. "I didn't mean to bother you. I'll go back to my room."
"Sit." He settles down on the concrete beside me, his back against the tire stack. "No point running from tears. They'll just follow you."
I hover uncertainly for a moment before sinking back down. Knox pulls a clean bandana from his pocket and offers it to me without a word.
"Thank you." I dab at my eyes, embarrassed by how easily I fall apart. "I don't usually cry this much."
"Of course not." He leans back against the tires, completely relaxed despite sitting on cold concrete. "Crying's a luxury most of us can't afford until we're somewhere safe."
Something in his tone makes me look at him more closely. Knox is huge, scarred, and intimidating as hell. But right now, he just looks tired.
"I used to hide too," he says, staring at the far wall of the garage. "After the cage fights. After I killed that kid in the ring." He's quiet for a long moment. "Took me years to remember I wasn't there anymore."
"How did you remember?" I ask softly.
"Time. And people who didn't try to fix me." He glances over at me. "Just let me exist until I figured out how to live again."
We sit in comfortable silence for a while. Knox goes back to humming, and I focus on breathing without crying. It's the first time in days that I've felt something other than fear or shame.
"Knox?" I finally ask. "Do you think I'm weak?"
He considers the question seriously, which I appreciate. "I think you've survived things that would have killed weaker wolves," he says. "Surviving isn't the same as winning, but it's not nothing either."
Before I can respond, footsteps echo in the garage entrance. Luna appears, carrying two steaming mugs that smell like chocolate and cinnamon.
"Thought you might need these," she says, settling down cross-legged beside me. She's small and dark-haired, with the kind of quiet presence that makes you want to tell her your secrets.
"You don't have to" I start.
"I know." She hands me one of the mugs. "I wanted to."
The hot chocolate is perfect - rich and sweet with just a hint of spice. I wrap my bandaged hands around the warm ceramic and feel something tight in my chest loosen slightly.
"I heard about what happened with Mara," Luna says quietly. "In the kitchen."
My stomach drops. "How did you."
"Walls are thin. And bikers gossip worse than church ladies." She takes a sip of her chocolate. "You know it wasn't your fault, right?"
I shake my head. "I broke the glass and I made a mess."
"You were scared," Knox says simply. "Scared people drop things, there is nothing wrong with that."
"But I should have stood up for myself. Should have told Ryder the truth about what happened." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "Instead, I just made everything worse."
Luna and Knox exchange a look over my head.
"You protected the pack," Luna says finally. "Kept the peace by not escalating the situation. That takes strength."
"It takes fear," I correct. "I was too scared to cause more problems."
"Same result," Knox points out. "Sometimes scared and smart look a lot alike."
I want to argue, but there's something in their calm acceptance that makes the fight drain out of me. They're not trying to convince me I'm brave or strong. They're just sitting with me in this moment, offering warmth and company without expecting anything in return.
"I don't know how to be here," I admit. "I don't know how to be part of this pack."
"Nobody does at first," Luna says. "Pack bonds take time. Trust takes longer."
"What if I don't have that kind of time?" The question slips out before I can stop it. "What if Ryder decides I'm too much trouble?"
"Then we would all figure it out," Knox says with simple certainty. "One way or another."
It's not a promise that everything will be okay. It's better than that - it's a promise that I won't have to face whatever comes next alone.
We sit together until the sun starts to set, drinking hot chocolate and sharing comfortable silences. Luna tells me about the books she reads when she can't sleep. Knox explains the difference between a Harley and a Triumph engine. I mostly listen, soaking up the normalcy of casual conversation.
For the first time since arriving at the compound, I feel like maybe I could belong here. Not as the alpha's charity case or the pack's burden, but as myself. Broken and scared and trying to heal, but still worthy of kindness.
When we finally part ways, Luna squeezes my shoulder gently. "You're stronger than you think,"