Page 69 of Alpha's Revenge Luna
An hour later, he returns with beef stew and bread rolls, along with a bag of drinks.My stomach growls hungrily at the delicious scent, and I sit up.He sets the plate on my lap and I snatch the spoon, earning a growl from him, but the Belladonna lingers on my tongue and stew offers to remove it.
I instantly start scooping it up and almost moan at the delicious taste, also because I didn’t realize how hungry I actually am until the first mouthful.Dion sets a can of coke on the bedside table and cracks it for me, and he loads the small fridge with juices and water and a few fizzy drinks.When he stands back up, I grab my drink and move over on the bed, so he can eat his dinner when I notice his plate isn’t here.I am about to ask him if he is eating too when I see him walking back to the door.
“You’re not staying?”My voice, fragile and desperate for human interaction.
He pauses for a second but doesn’t turn around.“I have obligations to my pack,” he replies.
Desperation, raw and biting, fuels my next plea.“I’ll come with you.”I tell him, setting my food aside to rush to the closet.
But freedom is not just a physical entity; it’s a mind unburdened, the offer of fresh air.
“No, you stay here,” he says as I reach for some fresh clothes.I peek out at him, wondering why when he’ll be right beside me, but he is already turning for the door.
“Wait!”I call out, rushing to the bedside table, he growls but does stop, and I snatch the handcuffs out of the drawer where he keeps them.
The metallic clink of the handcuffs is my next plea… “I’ll wear them,” I offer.Silence greets my words, then a heavy sigh.
“I’ll be good!”I promise him, desperate to go with him.
“I’ll be back soon,” he promises, but promises are just another way to say no in this situation for him.
“Please?”I beg.“Five minutes?I just need to see Tara, to apologize to the pack...I need fresh air.”
The conflict in his eyes mirrors my internal battle.Freedom I know is something he won’t offer.He turns, moving toward the door.
“No, please.Five minutes, just five minutes?Tara is probably worried,” I plead, reaching out and clamping the handcuff on his wrist.He growls, but I quickly clamp it on mine.“See, I’ll wear it,” I tell him desperately, the chains rattling with my silent sobs.
He grabs my hand, stomping over to the dresser.He rummages around in the top drawer, producing the key and unlocks our wrists.
“No… Please, I haven’t seen anyone in days, you kept me locked in that dungeon for God only knows how long, and now here.You marked me!”
“It didn’t stick.Don’t lie to me and tell me you haven’t noticed the bond is no stronger than before,” Dion says.
“Can I at least see Tara, maybe in the hallway?Just leave the door open?”I beg when he grabs my face in both of his hands.
“She doesn’t want to see you.You killed eight people, Emery.It’s best if you stay here.”His words are harsh, and take me by surprise.I choke on his words, they cut deeply.She would rather not see me?
The icy kiss of his lips against my forehead makes me shudder as he turns and walks away, leaving me alone once more.Walking back to my bed, I sit on the edge.
My appetite vanished before I could even think aboutgrabbing my spoon and stew.Instead, I slip into bed, praying Dion will return soon.
I’m awakened by Dion’s return.The scent of alcohol clings to him.
The odor of his booze-filled breath invades the space around us as he climbs back into bed, pulling me close.I want to fight him off, but my energy is drained.So I just lay there limp, slowly fading into a deep slumber.
Chapter 22
TWO WEEKS LATER
A sinking sense of dread chills the air, settling its icy fingers into the depths of my bones.The room, lit by the tender touch of the early morning sun, feels colder, distant – like Emery, who lies still.
Rubbing my eyes, I stare at the ceiling.Everything is so still and quiet, apart from Emery’s shallow breathing.It’s been two weeks, and her silence today is unnerving.I cautiously yet softly place my hand on her hip.She pretends to be asleep, a silent protest that speaks volumes without a single word.
A deep sigh escapes me, and the guilt of my choice intensifies with each day that passes with her confined in this room.My Luna, once a radiant spirit, is now dulled and confined.Knowing this is necessary does little to lighten the burden of my decision.I’m disturbed by my turbulent thoughts with a sharp and urgent knock on the door.Kyrio is punctual as always, bringing breakfast for Emery.
Another meal, likely to be left untouched, I turn to Emery.“Breakfast,” I murmur, but she’s a statue, cold and unmoving.Getting up, I get dressed.
My fingers graze the edge of the leather belt as I buckle it, the final touch to my outfit for today’s meeting.I glance toward the bed.Emery lays there, a silent form enveloped in the white sea of sheets.She doesn’t plead to be freed today.She doesn’t look at me with those eyes, a tumultuous mix of betrayal and longing.
