Chapter 81

Alyson

He lists twenty-seven names in the ransom note, muttering them out with their ages, some even under the age of twenty, and it almost pains me that he forces me to sit here and witness it all. I feel guilty and I shouldn't—I am not the with the elders, but they officiated Ryan and my ceremony and they are at the palace now, helping look for me, and Olivera can't seem to stand hearing that I wouldn't want anyone dead, even a rogue.

He still writes the letter, demanding the board will pay for their actions in the past, and refuse to carry them on in the future, and it's making my head spin thinking about how none of this will work out in the way he thinks it will. Ryan, or the elders, will come for me and kill him in the wake of it all. I hate thinking that way, so negative, but I have no bounds to this Alpha or his ragtag pack.

I just need my pack, my Alpha, and my life back.

I dare to drift asleep again, stunned with the same poison from the day prior, and I'm jolted awake seconds later from the terror of my sleep. I look around, panicked, recalling Jacob's horrid abuse against me when all I wanted was to have a mate, to be protected, and was instead used and tied down, drawing my blood until I was limp and useless to the world.

"What's the problem, sweetheart?" Olivera asks, leaning back in his seat. His black hair has been tied up since I met him but somehow I only notice now that it's long, covering his neck, and stark in color like that of a crow. "Another bad dream for the Luna?"

I scowl at the pretend Alpha. "What does it matter to you?"

"I can be curious of my captives quarrels."

"You have no right."

He gives me a narrow look, his lips pressed into a sharp, thin line. I hate to look him in the eyes, something red and gold flicking through his gaze, the sight making me shudder. I dare myself to look away but I can't, watching him stand across the room, fold his jacket in front of his thick abdominal muscles, and adjust the cuffs of his sleeves, each movement so meticulous and yet so bold. I shiver anxiously.

He corners me in the bed, kneeling right beside me as he reaches forward and reaches for my wrists, the metal chains clanking while he pulls them forward, forcing me forward as well. I groan a noise, sore from this position, and he grins at the moan that escapes me. His snarky smile makes my stomach twist.

"I don't think you understand just what rights I do have over you right now," he says, leaning in close to my face, his breath warm and sugary sweet. My nose twitches at the sensation. "If you want me to play nice, I am going to need you to answer me when I ask you a question. Understood?"

I hardly feel my wolf since I got here but right now, I hear a murmur of a growl in my head. "Yes. I understand."

He cracks a smile, daring to near my lips with his own but I bolt backwards, slamming my head on the wooden bed frame so hard that I see spots from my innocent flinch. I cough slightly, my eyes fluttering closed and open again, something so dizzying about the smell of my own blood flooding my nostrils.

"You are a magnet for bad luck, blood pet," he mutters.

He holds my wrists, undoing the chains, and I gasp in the relief of my arms finally falling to my sides, my fingertips numb and pale. I hiccup and groan, his arms sneaking under my back and through the crease of my knees, my head bobbing off his bicep as I'm whisked out of bed.

"No," I groan, dizzy and lost in the whirlwind of movement. "Not my blood," I say, begging practically. "Don't take it… don't—"

Moments later I am set down in a cold, empty tub, the sounds of water gushing hitting me first before I feel warm water rise around my body. I feel a warm rag, wet with water, press into the back of my head, right where the small trickles of blood seem to be appearing from. I try to hide my wince, instead groaning as Olivera presses into the wound with the wet rag, wiping the mark clean, instead of trying to take the blood for himself.

I sit up slightly, pulling away from his touch, but he grabs for my neck, gently, his thumb brushing the mark of my mate for just a moment, long enough for chills to erupt all over my body and down my spine. I shiver fiercely. He tilts my head up, away from his glare, an di feel his eyes trailing the mating mark for a long, sullen moment.

"It's healed now," he breathes, finally dropping my neck from his grip. "You should be fine. Try not to slam your head on the edge of the bedframe again, sweetheart."

I subdue myself from rolling my eyes. "Sweetheart, blood pet, Luna," I groan. "Why are you doing this to me? I would never kill a rogue unless I was attacked, Olivera. Ryan wouldn't either, he wouldn't want to kill anyone unless they tried to kill us."

He glares at me, through me almost, and I gasp at his eyes, so bright and shifting. My wolf is weak, muted, but his is unbelievably strong, so dominate and powerful, it makes me cower away from his daunting irises.

In a low, husky voice, he mutters a reply, "You don't get it, do you? The only way wolves like the elders care, is if one of their own is attacked, wounded, or captured by the evil rogue Alpha. If I go to speak with them, they'll have me killed, or they could at least attempt to do so. But this way, I have something of theirs. I have something they want.

"In order for them to get you back, they will give me something I want, something like the promised safety of my kind of wolves for the rest of eternity, or the promise of war and death will be the oncoming of their futures. If my kind is to be slaughtered, so will theirs," he growls.

Again, I feel myself tremble at his words, at his tone, and wonder how simple it would be for him to kill me now, or at least, in the very near future, if driven to do so by the elders.

"So you will kill me if they don't stop attacking the rogues anymore?"

His eyes flicker sideways, just long enough to notice, before they return to my glare, then drop to my trembling, pursed lips. "If I am driven to do what I must do, then I will do it."

He stands abruptly, pacing off into the bedroom, the sounds of his pen hitting the paper forcing my body to throb in agony. He continues writing his ransom note while I continue thinking of my mate, both of us hopeful for such different things in this life but willing to do whatever we can to make it come to fruition.