Siw Adam And Bronwille Ch 01

SIW : Adam O'Neill

Here we are with the next part of the SIW Chronicles. I'm giving a bit of warning, part of this will be hard to read. It involves a kidnapping, drugging, abuse and rape of a person. It part of Bronwille's past and thus included in the story, if you don't want to read this, that is perfectly understandable. In this case just skip the story "Broken Bones". The story "Broken Bones" was written especially for SIW and the wonderful person that wrote this is CedarNeedle. I owe her a huge thank you for providing something that is so emotional and heart wrenching to read and experience.

Many thanks go out to all those in The Guild for their support and feedback, those on Twitter for keeping the drive alive. Special thanks go out to Mikothebaby for being a fast, kind and caring editor.

I am going to try and do my best and have a chapter up each week. I have a few ready and hopefully I get back into writing easily.

Mokkelke

Chapter One : The Past.

Adam was restless, his wolf agitated. Yet again she'd slammed the door in his face. When he called her an hour later, hoping she had cooled down by then, she again didn't pick up, letting him go to voicemail once more. He left by now, his few familiar words, "Bronwille, can you please talk to me? Just let me know you're alright." Then he always had to bite his tongue to stop himself from adding "I love you".

Two months had passed since the attack on Bronwille in the alley next to "The Viper". At first he called twice every day, then once a day, then every other day. Now he called on Monday and Friday. Not once had she answered his calls, not once had she talked to him when he stood in front of her door.

He was starting to lose all hope that she would get better. Every minute he wasn't needed in his tavern, he spent watching over her, making sure, well hoping was more like it, that she's ok. It was only because of Mia that he knew she was doing somewhat ok. "She gets by," was the usual answer he got from Mia every time he saw her.

The staff at his tavern avoided him like the plague, where as they normally always stopped by his kitchen for a little chat before and after their shift. At first he was fine, then he started being silent and now he was nearly losing it with his mate refusing to acknowledge he even existed. The only ones brave enough to meet his temper were the Alpha's and Beta's of his own pack and the Whelan brothers and their mates.

He grumbled, cursed and growled as he battled with all the pots and pans on his tiny stove. He felt like trashing the place, not caring if anything was left whole or not.

"Hey, Mister Grumpy, I see you're at it again?" a sweet voice said behind him. Suddenly part of his tension disappeared. Mia always had that effect on him.

"Hi sunshine. Sorry for the mood. How are you doing?" he asked, grabbing a towel to wipe off his hands as he turned towards Mia.

"I'm just peachy. This morning sickness is finally giving up ruining my day. Guess I don't have to ask how you're doing. I could hear the trashing all the way up front," Mia said.

Adam shrugged his shoulders. He was aware his behavior wasn't normal but he had no clue how to solve this whole situation with Bronwille.

"Adam, we got to do something. This is becoming unbearable for you, not to mention those around you and your customers."

"What do you want me to do then? She doesn't answer her phone, at least not for me. When I'm at her door she doesn't even open it. She doesn't even talk back. It's driving me up a wall. I understand she needs her time and I'm willing to give her that, but I'm slowly going insane here because she can't even bring herself to say just a simple 'Yes, I'm fine' or 'No, leave me alone'," he spoke heatedly rattling more pans on the stove in front of him.

"I'm so sorry she's making you feel like this. You know she isn't doing it intentionally, right?" Mia asked.

That question resulted in Adam slamming down a pan with so much force the contents spilled over the sides.

"Of course I know, but I don't have to like it that my mate thinks she has to deal with this on her own. I'd move heaven and earth to make that hurt go away, if only she would let me. It's driving me and my wolf insane. We want to be there for her, but she isn't letting us in," Adam said in a hurt voice. Finally calming down a little he sighed as he turned around facing Mia.

"I don't know what I can do to get through to her without scaring her shitless. You got any options?" Adam asked with a hint of hope in his eyes.

"I have an idea that might help you understand how she copes with everything. Here take this," Mia said as she handed him a tiny piece of paper. "Go to that site and look for the name I wrote down. You know she works mainly as an editor but whenever she's troubled she writes.

I'm going to plead the fifth if she ever finds out how you got this. She barely admitted it to us that it was her. Read her bio page and maybe that can spark a little something to help you along," she added in a mysterious tone.

"And why is it you tell me this now and not sooner?" Adam snapped. Defiantly, he turned his back to her and started cleaning up the mess he had made. Sadly, he only made it worse by his brisk movements caused by the barely constrained frustration that was now building up inside of him, replacing the anger he'd felt before.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you," he spoke softly, facing her again. Looking at the tiny piece of paper, "So what is the meaning of this?" he said as he waved it briefly in front of Mia.

"At some level she trusts you; or else she wouldn't have allowed you to care for her those first few days. Her way of dealing with everything is to write, write and write some more. I checked her bio this morning and she put up something new. The first time it took her two whole years to get back. It was eighteen months before she started writing something down, now she's put something up after two months.

"That proves she's starting to come around. If I may suggest, read 'Broken Bones' first before you read anything else, even her new submission. Keep that for last," Mia explained. "And well, we don't want you walking around all grumpy and growling at everybody. I thought providing this will help you as well, maybe you can find another way to get through to her instead of getting her door smacked in your face every time."

Turning around, he threw the washcloth over his shoulder and leaned against the counter. The chef's coat was a tight fight, not hiding his muscular build at all. The seams almost looked like they were tearing up when he crossed his arms.

"I don't know what to do. I don't want to scare her anymore then she already is. I know of that first attack and that it was a close call. But how is me reading her stories going to help either of us? You know I'd do anything for her, just as Chris will for you and the babe and Nick for Fran. I know she went through hell and back. I've seen my share of misery over time. Fact is we don't even know what she saw, if she saw anything at all. I just want to hold her, soothe her, care for her," he spoke softly. The anguish was clear on his face now.

"Oh Adam, I feel for you," Mia said as she walked up and hugged him. Close contact always soothed a wolf, not the same level of soothing a mate could provide, but soothing nonetheless.

Loosely he circled his arms around her, letting his wolf relax from the comforting touch. He took a few moments for himself, letting Mia's words get through to him. Trying to understand what she really wanted him to do.

"So you think if I read her story and her new submission, I may find a way to get through to her?" he asked wearily.

Mia looked up at him, "I'm sure of it. Once you read her bio, you'll put things together," Standing on tip toes she planted a quick kiss on his unshaved cheek, "I'm sure you'll figure it out, grumpy."

Stepping back she turned around to walk out of his kitchen. At the last minute she turned and smiled, "Though I do suggest a shave next time you go to her, she's got delicate skin."

Adam chuckled at her remark, "Point taken. Now get back to Chris before he barges in and decides to decimate me for hogging his mate. I'll bring out the usual in a bit."

"You know he's no match for me," Mia smirked before she darted out of his sight. Her smirk turned into a wide smile as she heard his laughter follow her.

Do me proud Adam. Bron needs you more than she's willing to admit. Now I just hope Bron forgives me for telling her little secret.

Later in the evening, when he had locked up his tavern, he went upstairs to his flat and turned on his ancient computer. He gave it enough time to load up while he went for a quick shower, washing off all the sweat and hoping it would invigorate him.

After drying himself, he just put on a pair of sweatpants, not giving a damn if he went commando underneath. He pulled off the cap of the bottle of beer and sat down in front of his computer. He looked at the tiny piece of paper with the nice clear handwriting of Mia on it. Taking one large sip of his beer, he placed it next to the screen.

Slowly he typed in the address and waited for it to load. The layout of the site was clean, nothing frilly as he expected in the first place. Not wanting to waste too much time, he entered her pen name in the search box and just a few moments later her bio page opened in front of him.

Most of her boxes were blank. She was between twenty-four and thirty, was single but not looking and her two hobbies were reading and writing. At the bottom of her page there was a button tagged "volunteer editor", it picked his curiosity but he was more interested in her writings now. He made a mental note to check it out later.

Clicking her story page he noticed several stories listed under her penname. Checking the options he let them show in order they were submitted. All her entries were short stories. She'd submitted a few before "Broken Bones", a handful after and then her last submission dated a few days back. The cursor of his mouse hovered above the story Mia had told him to read first.

Reaching for his beer, he took another big sip. As it made its way through his body, he built up enough courage to press that tiny button and waited, again, for her story to load.

Maybe I should invest in a new computer, this constant waiting is nuts!

he scolded himself.

Then he started reading:

* * * *

* * * *

Broken Bones By RedB

Prologue:

How does one compare broken bones to a broken spirit? Which one is worse?

It's difficult to answer. But bones heal, memories never go away.

Chapter 1:

The call of a large black crow screeching caught Amelia's attention as she kneeled in her garden, preparing to plant the spring flowers she'd recently bought at the nursery and had delivered to her house so she didn't have to leave. Gardening was the only activity she enjoyed doing outdoors and these brief moments were nirvana for her when she was brave enough to step outside.

As her pale green eyes took in the larger black bird, which by the way was staring at her in an ominous fashion. She contemplated whether this was an omen or just a natural appearance. The thing cawed at her again, demanding attention.

"Are you here for more than a bug crow?" Amelia teased, but flinched as the bird answered her with a chirp.

"Well then, if you are here to remind me, then riddle me this -- what is more painful? Broken bones or a broken spirit?"

The crow tilted its head to the side as if it thought through her question and then made a sound that was eerily close to "spirit". Amelia freaked out, dropping the hand shovel she'd been holding so the spade sliced through the soft tilled soil and sat there ignored.

"Oh my God," she moaned and scrambled frantically to her feet to escape the black reminder. Black as the mark on her soul, that no matter what she did, it seemed to keep coming back to haunt her. Like that crow. Like the memories.

Inside, Amelia ran to the sink and gripped the cold porcelain rim, closing her eyes to blot out the recollections that pushed on her mind. Memories she didn't want to dreg up.

A soft ticking drew her out of the battle and when she opened her eyes she came face to face with the damn crow sitting just outside her kitchen window watching her. He tapped the glass once again with his large glossy beak before returning to the eerie evaluation with its little black beady eye.

"Go away," she moaned, cringing at the weakness in her own voice. "I don't want this. Just go away."

The crow shook its head and tapped the glass again.

"Just go away."

Too late.

Phantom hands reached from behind and cupped her breasts in a painful remembrance of her ordeal. She twirled around in a panic trying to evade her own mind, but those hands followed. Amelia felt her panic rise as her heart picked up a rapid rate as she ran towards the bedroom, diving into the bed and throwing the covers over her head.

"Just go away," she begged, this time to the memories. "I don't want to remember this!"

Outside the crow called again as he flew around her house. That sound was enough to tip the balance and Amelia tumbled into her trance, relapsing back into the shattered state after the attack. Her mind shut down and her body went into survival mode. Just like before, there was no one here to help her, only her own self-preservation to claw her way back out.

~ ~ ~ ~

She'd been late leaving work one night, trying to get a few last minute reports completed so she could sleep in tomorrow instead of getting up at the crack of dawn to finish. Working for a large marketing firm didn't give her much chance to sleep in very often, so she took what she could when she could.

The dim lights of the parking lot, some flickering insistently, sent parts of the lot into darkness for a few clicks of the clock and caused her to pause. Her Honda Accord was parked in the darkest part of the lot and right next to this windowless white van she didn't recognize.

Looking back inside, she knew she was one of the last to leave the building and contemplated asking Justin to walk her out, but changed her mind. He was weaker than she was, so what was the point in that? His tall lanky frame would do nothing but give her mental security, so she stepped out into the cold night and walked towards her vehicle with key in hand.

The van was parked on the driver's side of her car, giving her the idea of entering in through the passenger door and sliding over once she was in. She chose that option and was about to insert the key into the lock when a powerful force thrust her against the passenger door and pinned her there.

"Thought you were being clever, did'ya?" The deep male voice whispered against the shell of her ear and sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't move. "Don't think of screaming either," the press of a sharp point against her rib cage highlighted the need to remain quiet. "Good girlie. We've been waiting for you, you know. You made our life easier by working late tonight, so now we're going for a ride. And remember," he pressed the sharp point more firmly into her ribs, "no screaming."

Because her body was effectively pinned to the car with her chest being smashed against the windows, she could barely turn her head to see her attacker. What did get her attention was the metallic sound of the van door opening and two more men, both wearing ski masks staring back.

"She's got tits for sure, that should make our play time more enjoyable," one called out. The other one punched the speaker before looking in Amelia and her attacker's direction with cold blue eyes, "Come on fucker; let's get going."

The pressure lifted from her body and she found herself numbly dragged towards the van. The last thing her eyes saw as the van door closed was her purse sitting on top her car with the contents spilling out like vomit. A small can of pepper spray barely visible, but useless.

As the driver put the van into reverse, the large man who'd grabbed her squatted down inches from her face where she crouched in the back, trying to curl into a small little ball.

Her body was shaking so badly from her trembling that it appeared she was cold. Through her trembling, she tried to make out any features of her attacker from behind the black ski mask, but all she could discern was his cold, calculated brown eyes that in this light looked black. But there was something about his voice.

"So, here's the deal, chickie. I want into this gang and you're my ticket. Don't fight me and I will let you live. Fight me and you'll never see the light of day once I'm done with you. Understood?'

Amelia didn't reply. Her long brown hair was still covering one eye where it had come loose from the clip, but she still remained silent and motionless. She left the hair where it was.

"First things first, clothes are not allowed where we're going, so let's get you prepped. Once we arrive, you'll be cleaned up and prepared for my initiation. Plain and simple, I will reward you with a few orgasms if you don't fight the process, so remember that as you're being cleaned up," he lifted his knife, "Now strip." He used the tip of a hunting knife to indicate her jacket.

That roused her, "Now?"

"Yup."

Her terrorized eyes swept through the van and counted that including the driver, there were three men here.

"You're taking too long," he leaned closer, "Remember, don't fight me, chickie and I consider this fighting me."

Amelia swallowed working through her options, but obviously this took too long for a blinding pain shot through her mind as his fist slammed into the side of her head knocking her onto her side.

"Strike one," he said coldly just before his knife sliced through the thin silk of her suit jacket. The sounds of ripping fabric followed as he shredded first the jacket, then the silk blouse and skirt exposing the matching bra and panty set.

Amelia recovered from her stunned state and fought back finally. She lashed out with her legs and kicked the bastard in the balls sending him reeling backwards grabbing the juncture between his legs. Her attacker, who she dubbed Giant, kicked out with his own heavy boot and slammed into her ribs, knocking the wind out of her. If that didn't break a rib, she'd be surprised. The freezing cold of the metal flooring in the van helped clear her head and focus back on the situation.

"Bitch," Giant snarled.

"What do you want with me!" she yelled once she found her breath again. Giant was recovering too, though. He now leaned against the barren wall of the van as he continued to grip his balls.

"You'll see. That wasn't nice, chickie. No kindness for you here on out. I need my jewels tonight and that pissed me off. Don't," he loomed dangerously close in motion so swift it startled her, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath, "do that that again."

"Fuck you," she spat a glob of spit into his face and again blinding pain as he punched her again.

"Fuck you back, bitch. And I will, multiple times, you'll see." He slumped back against the van wall while he wiped the spit off his face using the back of his hand. The mask prevented him from removing it all, but he did the best he could do.

Outside of the pain shooting from his balls, he was enjoying this little feisty reaction, because he wanted a fight. He wanted a good show to demonstrate he was right for this gang. Choosing a weak or submissive bitch would have worked against him. His dick flared to life at the thought of fucking her hard while she tried to get away. That pressure in his jeans further aroused him, so he stroked himself right in front of her, "This is all for you, chickie. Rock hard and throbbing."