Page 33 of The Alpha's Lunar Crown

His eyes almost double in size."I know you wouldn't want to break traffic rules, but I have a life-or-death emergency, and I can't afford to care about traffic rules right now. If you're good, I can wire you the money right now. I don't mind paying double."He doesn't give me a reply, but he steps on the gas, moving at a speed that's less than I would have, but much faster than he was moving. I catch a glimpse of the time on the digital clock. It's been almost thirty minutes since I left Blackwood. I lost my phone during the attack, so I have no feedback from the PI. I swallow the thick lump of fear forming in my throat and will myself to stay clear-headed. The PI texted minutes ago, so he must've gotten to her. She's safe, I say to myself. She's safe. There's no cause for alarm. I don't believe it, but I hold on to it. It's much better than imagining anything happening to her. I won't survive it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Aurora

The door to the closet yanks open, and the familiar face of one of the men following me peeks in. A sinister grin spread through his lips at the sight of me. He wastes no time in reaching for me.

I yell, scratching him as best I can, my hands flying in every direction as I scream my lungs out in the hope that someone, anyone, would come to my aid.He laughs, a deep cackle that sends a wave of fear down my spine, "No one can hear you, sweetheart. Don't make this more difficult for yourself." He leans in further, "I don't want to have to hurt you more than I ought to."

The closet seems to grow smaller, threatening to close me inside of it. I draw in deep breaths, desperate to stay calm.In that moment, my mind drifts to Ronan, my heart twisting with regret as I wonder why I did not hug him tighter the last time I saw him.

The man pulls me by the hair, forcing me to stumble out of the closet just in time to see the other two men walk in.

"A tough one, this one," He says to them, his smile growing wide. "I think we might even have fun with her."

The room, I notice, is small and empty of any trace of furniture, save for a chair that is obviously missing a leg sitting in a corner.The air is thick with dust, a constant reminder that this house has not enjoyed the company of guests in a while.I can feel the panic rising within as my hand trembles. The need to say a prayer is overwhelming, but I wonder how timely the response will be.He turns back to me, his eyes narrowing menacingly, and he takes my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look into his eyes, "Now, now, sweetheart, don't be too hard on yourself. There's no need for that."

There's a hint of cigarettes and cheap whiskey on his breath, the foul combination causing my stomach to churn in disgust."Let go of me!" I yell, my scalp burning as I struggle against his grip.

I can tell he's the leader from his demeanor and the way the other two cower before him. They stand around, eyes on me, as they smile at something I cannot relate to.He shakes his head lightly, the sickening look not leaving his eyes. "I can't do that, not after going through all that trouble to find you."

"I promise, I'm not the person you're looking for. I don't make trouble. I mind my business. I'm not even important," I argue, trying to make him reason with me. I honestly cannot, for the life of me, come up with a reason why anyone would invest so much strength into finding me. I lived in a cottage at the end of my pack and was barely noticed, for fucks sake.

The man only manages a smile, making him appear creepier than he already is. "Someone must've thought differently, but tell you what," a sick glint in his eyes intensifies as his eyes rake all over me, his grip on my hair growing impossibly tighter. "If you make us really happy, we might trade favors. What do you say?"

I spit in his face, the action causing him to pull back suddenly in disgust, but that is not before he slaps me hard across the face, forcing my head to snap to the left.

With one hand, he shoves me to the ground, and I crawl into a corner. He swings his leg in my direction, missing me by a few inches. That alone seems to agitate him more as he stares down at me. His smile is gone, and in its place is a cold, emotionless scowl. "You bitch!"I taste blood, but I don't mind, "I assure you, someone will notice my absence and come for me." I try to sound convincing despite not believing a word I say, but the man must've seen right through my bluff.

He laughs, his index pointing at me as he says, more to the men than to me, "Oh, she thinks Lucien is running down here to save his damsel in distress." More laughter erupts in the room, causing me to shift uncomfortably as I wrap my hands around my knees, trying to find some comfort despite my circumstances. He knows Lucien? So, this isn't a random ambush?

Surely, after my message, Lucien will come for me. I have no idea why he's the one I called, but that doesn't matter. All I want is to get away from this as soon as I possibly can.

"He has important business to attend to, things more important than the likes of you. I made sure of that," the man says, still grinning, although it seems somewhat forced now. His eyes are still gleaming with malicious intent.I press my back further back, leaning heavily against the wall as I struggle to accept my fate, a weight of fear and anxiety weighing down on me.

A loud noise cuts through the air, causing my eyes to fly open. The man lets his gun down, turning to the others, "Check that out."

But there's almost no need for that as a figure walks into the room just then, his eyes scanning the room briefly until they rest on me.

"Damon!" I call, my chest light with relief. Before he can answer me, the two men rush towards him.

I gasp, attempting just then to run to him, but I'm pulled back by a firm grip around my wrist, "Not so fast, love." The man says again, and I turn just in time to see the butt end of his gun colliding with my temple before everything fades to darkness.

****

The next time my eyes flutter open, there's someone towering above me. "Lucien..?" I call, but my voice only comes out a weak, throaty whisper.

He shakes his head just as my sight clears from the blurry mess my vision became upon awakening.

"It's Damon," he says, reaching down to grasp my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as I look up at him.I try to sit upright, but my body is too weak to support me. My legs feel numb, and the pounding in my head only seems to intensify."How did you find me here?" I ask simply, wincing slightly at the throbbing sensation that radiates from my skull.He leans closer, examining my temple, "Careful now. Don't do too much just yet. You have a nasty cut up here."

I look around just then, seeing no trace of the men, not even Lucien. A wave of pain envelopes me, squeezing me tight as the realization dawns on me.I called him in a time of danger. I had imagined his delay to be a result of not knowing my exact location, but the words of the vile man with the gun repeated in my head, "He has important business to attend to, things more important than the likes of you."He wasn't late. He just didn't bother enough to show up.I sigh sadly and close my eyes as I allow my head to drop backward. A wave of disappointment washes over me, making me curl forward slightly. My disappointment is more at myself for expecting anything different from him.I should've known better. I mutter to myself inaudibly."

"What happened?" I ask, my eyes sweeping the room briefly before settling on his face.His eyes follow mine briefly as if trying to ascertain what I'm asking, "They're gone now. You have nothing to worry about," he says simply. He leans forward to give my forehead a slight kiss, a hint of relief and concern lining his features.

"Aurora?" A familiar voice calls, causing the both of us to turn toward the door. A sigh escapes my mouth as I see Lucien, and I feel my breath hitch.He's here, but even though I want to draw some sort of comfort from that, the fact that I wouldn't be here right now if not for Damon hinders that."You're okay," he says, crossing over to where I am sitting and taking my hand in his. I notice then that his clothes are torn in a few places, a number of his buttons undone, exposing more of his collarbone than what would normally be acceptable, and his shirt wrinkled as though he had thrown it on quickly.

His eyes are dark as if he hasn't slept a wink in days. I want to reach out to him and ask if he's okay, but my anger suggests differently.

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