The pictures took some time to finish, but the doc insisted she get them done as part of the healing process. Casey had shared her concern for the two people she considered her friends. We haven't heard what happened to either of them, but since it weighs heavily on Casey's mind, I haven't stopped asking questions to find out.

Casey's fingers trace the line of the scar she drew on Cilas' face. From just inside the door, Emma and I can clearly see her hand trembling.

Next to Cilas' picture sits the portrait of Anna. Her dark eyes, sketched with a ray of light behind them, stare back at us all. A quick sob tears from Casey before she finally turns around.

Em, once standing at my side, rushes to her and bends down to wipe the tears away. I knew this was going to be emotional, but Casey needs closure and not in the way of the nightmares which plague her.

"I love it," Casey whispers after regaining her composure. Looking up to me, she takes a breath. "Do you still have my other pictures?" she asks, but when I don't understand, she continues. "The ones I drew of you and me."

I point to the other boxes lying in the corner of the room marked as hers. "We're not done unpacking yet. But I bet the rest of your things are in there."

"Thank you," she breathes again in relief.

"So?" Em stands, wrapping her arm around Casey's shoulders and looking down. "What did we miss? What else do you need?"

Casey shakes her head, the remaining tears held in her eyes about to fall.

"Want us to give you a minute?" I ask her, seeing she may need a second to take it all in and thinking maybe it's best she does this alone.

Nodding with a look of apprehension on her face, Em agrees. "We'll be downstairs if you need anything. I'll leave the door open."

"Thank you," Casey whispers once she's sees us turn to leave.

Chapter Forty-One.

I've learned it's easy to accept the love of my family and be thankful for all they've given me.

As the whispered voices of Max and Em fade from the hallway, Casey exhales the relieved breath she didn't know she'd been holding since she opened the door to her room.

The sun s.h.i.+ning through her window was the first thing she noticed. She basked in the warmth of it and sighed as she opened her eyes to truly study its glow. The second thing she noted was her new bed. Raised off the floor and tucked in the corner with clean sheets and colorful pillows, she thought it had to have been made especially for her. It was nearly exactly the same as she had pictured in her daydreams.

The vibrant colors she had chosen for her walls were also everything she'd hoped them to be. The bright pink and deep purple surrounded her as she took in the rest of the room. She couldn't control the sobs welling up inside, and once her eyes landed on the sketches of Cilas and Anna sitting on her desk, she'd broken down and set them free.

I'm going to miss them so much.

Casey doesn't dwell on the loss of her mother. She didn't know her in the same way she's come to know Max or Em. She harbors no regret with her pa.s.sing, but at times the quiet guilt is a lot to bear.

Doctor Stacy told her it would take time to truly trust those outside the walls of Creed. Her appointments have been intense, but she's slowly opening up and sharing her memories, which include the little good and most of the bad.

Moving to sit on her bed, Casey looks around her new room with excitement and antic.i.p.ation. Boxes marked with her name sit stacked along the side wall. Standing up, she makes her way over to them.

Her hands shake as she opens the first box and finds some of the new clothes Max's parents had bought for her even before she had arrived. The first time she had laid eyes on their faces, she saw Max's reflection staring back at her. The color of his eyes and the kindness in their features couldn't be mistaken. She was accepted into their lives, and they hadn't questioned her past at all.

Casey moves the top box and sets it down while her curiosity of the next forces her to continue. The voices downstairs are jovial and easy. The laughter pierces her ears and causes her to smile.

Once the box is open, the framed picture on top freezes her entire body mid-motion. She doesn't want to touch it.

I don't understand. Who are those people with Max?

The people in the picture look to be some of Max's friends. He's smiling into the camera while sitting in a big leather chair, his hand wrapped around a bottle of beer.

A man, bigger than Max, stands above him. He's holding a cigarette in the same hand as his beer. He's smiling just as Max is.

And he's also wearing a black leather vest.

With her curiosity finally getting the best of her, Casey touches the picture and pulls it out to take a closer look. Max isn't wearing a vest, but he seems to know the people around him who are. She's puzzled by his smile. He looks more at ease around these men than she ever remembers him being with anyone other than his family.

Setting the photo down, Casey peers further into the box that she now realizes isn't meant to be marked as hers. Knowing full well she shouldn't continue her search, she can't help herself; this is a part of Max's past life she's never known to exist. She remembers only knowing men in vests to be vile and disgusting, the same men who avoided, ignored, or were outright cruel to her. Even in the safety of her new home, the memories of their faces and the strong smell of the leather they wore still hold strong.

Her posture straightens as she hears the gentle knock on her open bedroom door.

"Casey?" Turning her face to Max, she freezes, letting the picture drop back in place inside the box.

"What's that?" he asks, nodding to the frame she just released.

"This one isn't mine," she whispers, coming clean and admitting to what she's seen. She's been taught never to lie and as much as she wants to now, she won't.

Max walks toward her and instinct causes her to flinch and take a step away. His eyes are cautious and she can't place his expression. He reaches out and touches the crown of her head in the same gentle manner it always has before.

"I see you've met some of my friends," he says. Casey watches as he turns in place and peers inside the open box. He studies the picture and smiles. "That picture seems like it was taken forever ago." He points to the dusty photo before picking it up and taking a closer look. "I miss them."

"Your friends," Casey lets out with mild disappointment. She still can't imagine Max willingly being part of more men who wore leather.

Max doesn't hide his knowledge in sensing she's nervous.

"Sit," he tells her, pointing to the bed.

Casey does what he's instructed and positions herself at the end. He walks with her, but doesn't take a seat. Instead, her eyes follow his hand as he places the picture on the bed beside her.

Bending down and dropping his voice to a whisper, he reaches out and holds her face while he explains, "The men you see in that picture are good men, Casey. They aren't like those you knew."

"Who are they?" she asks, full of doubt.

She watches as realization truly dawns in Max's eyes and he smiles. "See we're gonna have to have a lesson on people, aren't we, monkey?"

Nodding, Casey eagerly agrees.

"Years ago, I lost my sister. You remember me telling you about her?"

"Marie," Casey says her name out loud. "I remember."

He had told the story of his sister with deep regret during a shared session with Casey and Doctor Stacey. Casey remembers feeling the loss with him as he explained what his life had been like since she'd been gone. It troubled her greatly to know Max still carries that pain. He's been better, but she often sees past his tough faade.

"Yes, Marie," he confirms. "You know when she died, I told you it felt like I lost a part of me. But with that, I also did things I wasn't proud of, mainly to help cope with the loss of her. I left here and didn't come back for a long time."

"Is that where you found them?" Casey asks, pointing to the picture in reference to his friends.

Max sighs, leans back on his heels, and looks again to the picture. "Yes and no. My point is that sometimes, families come in places you don't expect them to. I found them during a time..."

With her curiosity piquing and not fearing Max in the slightest, Casey cuts him off. "Did you have a funny name, too?"

"Funny name?" he asks, looking at her directly and trying to understand her question.

"Yes," she confirms. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she says the names of several she hopes to soon forget. "Hangar was a funny name. His friends were Dog and Wick."

"Ah," Max returns. "A road name."

Casey nods.

"I had a funny name, I guess."

"What was it?"

"Hood."

"Hood?" she asks with a raised brow. The name makes no sense. "That is a funny name."

"It was mine. I haven't been called that in a while, though. And maybe you wanna never call me that, either," he finishes sternly. It's meant as a light warning, but Casey realizes it's not something she'd ever do anyway. And knowing Max as she does, he means no offense.

Casey replies, "I won't."

"Good. Anything else you need cleared up?"

"Was Cilas your friend?" she asks next, thinking of the only other man she loved who wore a vest.

"No, Cilas wasn't my friend." Max shakes his head. "But Cilas wasn't like the others at Creed." He points to the picture for emphasis. "Neither were they."

Casey sits quietly and continues to search Max's eyes for answers to questions she can't think to ask.

"We can talk about this when you're ready," he tells her. "I don't think you are, and if we don't let my mom in here to take pictures, my dad will have to deal with her on his own."

Casey knows Max is using his parents as a distraction and for a brief moment, she thinks about saying so, but decides against it. Instead, she stands up and he gives her room as he takes a step back.

"Owen's coming to live with us," he advises her.

She had met Em's dog, Owen, while staying with Em's parents. She's gone to visit him a few times and has always been sad to leave him behind before going home.

"I can keep him?"

"He's yours," Max a.s.sures. "Does this make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go bring him home."

Home, Casey thinks.

I'm finally home.

Chapter Forty-Two.

One week later...

"You don't look relaxed to me," I tell Aimes, who's sitting beside me on the porch.

His knee hasn't stopped bouncing since he sat down. His hair is starting to grow back, along with his thick, dark beard. He looks much more like Aimes Easton now that he's no longer posing as Dextor f.u.c.king Ahrens.

"I'm fine," he snaps. "Gettin' restless."

Aimes and Low get this way. When they have time on their hands and nothing to do with it, they get edgy. The problem being Aimes knows exactly what he wants to be doing and none of it's any f.u.c.king good.

"Stay away from her, brother. She'll be taken care of," I state in reference to Anna.

Aimes sends me a look of disgust before telling me how he really feels about her going away. "That sick f.u.c.k wants her back. You know as well as I do he's gonna stop at nothing to get what he wants. He considers her his f.u.c.kin' property, as sick as that s.h.i.+t sounds. He's whack enough to believe it."

"She'll be safe. She's leaving here to be sure she stays that way."

After Anna gave her sworn statement against a very dead Hoss and the crew at Creed, along with Viktor, she finally admitted she wasn't safe and agreed to protective custody. It wouldn't be forever only until all this was handled and Viktor had been found. As of now, there hasn't been any word. His entire life's work was blown sky-high and his precious Anna was taken away from him as it happened.

"He'll find her," Aimes adds.

"He won't."

"Then I will," he seethes. "And when I do..."

"Stop," I snap, turning my head completely in his direction so I can make my point clear. "You don't know her, Aimes. She's damaged. She's had a s.h.i.+t life and she's finally gettin' a chance to live it, and what are you doin'?" He doesn't move to respond, so I keep going. "You're planning ways to jeopardize that."

"Men like him don't stop 'til they get what they want."

"Men like him..." I mumble with contempt before I accuse, "Men like you, Aimes."

As much as I don't want to agree, it's hard not to. Viktor loves Anna. And although I'm not sure the direct manner in which he loves her, as that was between them, I do know his feelings toward her were strong enough for him to make the decision to leave Creed and go back to his home.

Loving Emma and Casey as I do now, I can understand the lengths he'll go to, to get that back now that it's lost.

Looking out over the railing of the deck, he concedes. "Right. Men like me."