Ever since she’d come bursting out of her room, apparently after growling at the girls, Maya had run straight for the art studio and not come out. She’d ignored all attempts to engage her in anything at all, wouldn't even look up from what she was doing, hadn't eaten anything even though he’d brought her up the lunch the girls had tried to give her, and dinner, and an array of snacks.
All she was focused on was pouring out her emotions onto her canvas.
And it was clear that was what she was doing.
This time, she wasn't painting pretty pictures of snow-covered forests or sunsets. She’d taken a huge step closer to addressing her trauma than just painting the cliffs where she’d jumped in an attempt to end her own life.
Now she’d jumped straight into that trauma.
Dumping it out onto the canvas in what he could only pray was a cathartic measure that would help her begin processing what she’d been through. It would be a lifelong process, but she had to take that first step at some point, and he hoped this was it.
Black was the dominant color she used, splattered liberally across several canvases now, punctuated by vivid wisps of red. Along with the angry colors were swirling shapes, spirals seemingly depicting Maya’s descent into the empty void inside her head she’d been inhabiting when he’d first found her.
The fear of losing her back to that place was strong. That was her defense mechanism, the place she retreated to when the world around her became too much to handle. Despite it not being his intention, keeping her in the dark about them looking into her identity had pushed her past what she could bear.
With each passing second, she seemed to drift further away from him, and he didn't know how to pull her back.
At least he was confident she understood that sneaking out of this mansion was impossible. Between the six of them and their combined skills, she didn't stand a chance. While he hated that she felt trapped, imprisoned even though they had the best of intentions, at least she was safe, and he had to constantly remind himself that was his top priority.
Unable to drag himself away from her, Thunder sat opposite the door to her art studio. She’d left the door open, and he was grateful for that, so he didn't have to feel like he was invading her privacy but could still keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't do something that couldn’t be taken back.
Would she try committing suicide again?
So far she hadn't, but he wasn't convinced that she wouldn't.
Until he was sure, he wouldn't be leaving her completely alone. Dragon and Blade were both under strict orders to monitor her constantly and let him know if anything changed with her. Voodoo was ready to step in to heal her if needed.
Which left him feeling kind of useless.
There was nothing he could do to help her right now. Things had spiraled so quickly, going from sharing soft smiles and quiet chuckles with the girl who was quickly consuming his mind, body, and soul, to her completely ignoring him.
Never would he forget how defeated she looked when he walked her back to her room in the early hours of the morning. Despite knowing he was only doing what he had to do to keep her safe, he felt no better than Dr. Gardner and the other people who had kept her locked in a cage.
It felt like they were at a stalemate. Maya wasn't interested in hearing anything he or the others had to say, and he didn't know what to say to reassure her that even though she couldn’t leave here for the time being for safety reasons, he didn't want her to go anyway.
She’d think he was crazy if he broke down and confessed he had feelings for her.
After what she’d lived through, only just been rescued from, developing feelings for anyone was probably the last thing on her mind. Might never be on her mind. Just because they’d shared a couple of kisses didn't mean he was thinking that she was falling for him.
Didn't stop him from falling, though.
Hard and fast.
With complete knowledge that he was likely to be dashed to pieces when he finally landed.
Long blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders, Maya painted with purpose. While it looked like a jumbled mix of black, grays, and red on her canvas, it was clear that the painting meant something to her.
Despite the tension simmering between them, Thunder couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was so beautiful, and he loved the way she expressed herself with her art. After what happenedyesterday, he was more glad than ever that he’d set up this art studio for her. She needed the freedom to work through her emotions in a way that worked for her.
He could watch her forever.
Probably would have stayed right where he was, sitting on the floor in the hall, outside her studio, captivated by her every move, but movement down the end of the corridor caught his attention. Dragon was down there, Steel as well, hell, they were all there. All five of his teammates, the only brothers he’d ever had, the family he’d longed for as an angry kid.
Now the people who had the future he craved already within their grasps.
Part of him wanted to be angry with them for it. Beat them to a bloody pulp for having what he couldn’t have. But he also knew that was ridiculous. That was his jealousy talking. Every single one of his teammates had gone through hell to get where they were with the women who now owned their hearts. It wasn't their fault that he seemed to have blown his chance with Maya.
Taking out his anger on them was only misplacing it.