Chapter 111 Garrett
Garrett
It had been two days. Two whole fucking days. Not that I was counting.
Okay, I was absolutely counting. Every hour. Every minute. Every stupid sound outside my door had my head snapping up like some pathetic dog waiting for its owner to come home.
Did he hate me now?
That thought had been eating at me since the second the words left my mouth. Did Aslan see me differently now? Did he finally see what everyone else saw? A fuck-up. Too broken. Too angry. Too screwed in the head to ever be worth the trouble.
I knew I wasn’t exactly an easy person to love—or even like, for that matter—but my Lion had always somehow looked past the mess. Past the temper. Past the front. Past all the sharp edges I kept throwing at the world so no one could get close enough to see the fear underneath.
Had I ruined that? Had telling him the truth finally pushed him too far? Maybe now he thought I was a freak.
The thought sat in my chest like a blade.
A knock at the door pulled me out of it.
Olivia walked in without waiting for an answer, a coffee in one hand and a file folder tucked under the other arm. Her eyes narrowed the second she looked at me.
“You’ve been spiraling.”
“No shit.”
She sat on the edge of the desk and handed me the coffee. I took it.
After a second, I muttered, “I told him the day before yesterday.”
Her expression softened instantly.
“Aslan?”
I nodded.
“Everything?”
I looked away.
“Enough.”
For a second, she just stared at me. Then she smiled, not amused, but soft and warm.
“Garr,” she said quietly, “he’s been asking about you.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“He’s worried,” she said. “Really worried. He didn’t want to pressure you after everything, but trust me, he cares.”
Something in my chest loosened so fast it almost hurt. Before I could sit with that too long, she placed the folder on the desk.
“We need to do something.”
I frowned. “About what?”
She gave me a look. “Spring Creek.”
Every muscle in my body went tight.
“Olivia—”
“I’ve been talking to someone in my field.”
I stared at her.
“You talked to a lawyer? About me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not about you, Garr. Jesus, relax.”
I definitely did not relax.
She leaned forward. “At the firm, I’ve been assisting on civil rights and institutional abuse cases in my own time. One of the senior attorneys I work under specializes in youth abuse litigation and unlawful confinement.”
My throat tightened. “Does Father know you're doing that?”
“Hell, no! My major is in litigation, but I can choose any minor I want. I’ve heard cases like this before,” she continued. “And when they make it to court with enough evidence, the law is overwhelmingly on the victim’s side.”
A bitter laugh left me. “You mean if they make it to court.”
Her face stilled. We both knew.
“Olivia,” I said quietly, “we both know what happened to the only two patients who tried.”
I swallowed hard.
“They got dragged back in before they ever saw a judge. Shock therapy, and then they disappeared.”
The memory made my stomach twist.
Her jaw clenched. “I know.”
“I can’t take that risk, Oli. Not again. Not for me. Not for you.”
She took a breath.
“Not yet,” she said carefully. “I’m not saying we move now.”
That made me look at her.
“I need more time. More evidence. Sealed files, internal reports, patient records, board connections.” Her eyes sharpened. “I need the right angle.”
I stared at her. “You’ve really been doing this.”
Her expression shifted. “Father wanted me in law so I could be useful to the family.”
That made my stomach turn.
She gave a humorless smile. “To cover what needs covering. Protect the family business. Defend against lawsuits.”
“That says a lot about our family—" I almost laughed.
Her eyes met mine. “I’m not doing that.”
For the first time, I saw it. The fire in her.
“The reason I stayed in this profession,” she said quietly, “was never to bury the truth. It was to uncover it.”
My throat tightened. “Olivia…”
“I’m a second-year associate, Garr. I know that doesn’t make me some legendary attorney yet, but I’m building connections.”
Her expression softened. “I’ve been building your case since I started.”
That hit me harder than anything else. “You’ve been doing this… for me?”
Her eyes glistened slightly. “For you. For the boys before you. And for anyone they send there after.”
Silence settled between us before she leaned closer. “But you need to help me.”
I frowned. “How?”
Her voice turned serious. “No more incidents. No fights.” Her eyes held mine. “No cutting.”
The room went still.
“No anger explosions. No confrontations. No anything that gives them grounds to call you unstable. When we bring this forward, I need you to look like the innocent victim you are in the judge's eyes. A new judge, of course.”
That one landed because she was right. Every fight. Every scar. Every outburst. Every time I lost control. All of it became proof.
Not of what they had done to me, but of what they said I was.
“You need to be spotless,” she said quietly. “Until I’m ready.”
I stared at her. For the first time in years, the impossible felt almost possible. Terrifying. Fragile. Dangerous. But possible.
“You need to talk to Trisha. Get her onboard. We don’t need her to be against us if she finds out… well, who you’re really after. Make a deal with her now. Get her to be your perfect cover in public. Then just be very careful. Keep your preferences quiet until we are ready. I need proof. Anything you can get us without risking yourself will be fine. We also need allies. Character references. Media pressure.”
“Media?” I had always done everything possible to escape the spotlight.
“You are still doing your art blog, right? Start connecting with your followers. You have millions now, and we need them on your side. Talk to Aitor and to Evan. They have a huge follower base too.” She squeezed my hand with urgency. “We are going to need all the help we can get. I'm meeting two of my colleagues for dinner tonight, getting some pointers and ideas. Will you be okay on your own?”
“Of course, I'll be fine,” I assured her, at a loss for words.
She looked at me, her eyes glossy. “I know this is scary, Garr. But it's time. Are you ready for this?”
Was I ready?
I was scared to death. If things went wrong, I would be another disappearance. Another lost case, and I would rot somewhere with my brain probably fried.
But how was this life any better? With Graves actively back in my life, my nightmares were back as well, and I was fucking tired of being scared. If she needed proof, I would get her proof.
I could do this.
“I am. I’m ready.”