Chapter 9

~ ROSELLE ~

It still feels like a dream. My injuries have been tended to, and I've been provided with a simple free gown that doesn't cling to my body, airy and soft against my injuries. It feels like I'm still trapped in a dream I'll soon wake up from, only to find myself back in the cell, with Nova hitting the fuck out of me… for eating my food too fast or starving me for too long.

The doctor and nurses have left the room, and I'm all alone inside, with an IV drip connected to my body. The doctor had explained how I shouldn't move and should let it finish dripping, and how I should call him when it's done. They're all so calm, so calm, no one yelling at me or telling me how dumb I am.

Does this really exist?

There's a knock on the door. My eyes immediately dart toward it, waiting for someone to walk in.

One knock. Two.

The door opens, and a strange girl I haven't met, and who I don't recognize as one of the nurses, enters. Brown eyes, dressed in a casual shirt and tight jean trousers, black hair rolled into a bun.

Her face immediately pulls into a warm smile when she sees me.

She's carrying a closed tray. I sit up, ready to sign if she needs me to do anything.

"Good evening, my Lady. The Alpha sent me to bring dinner for you… I'm Celeste, your maid. I'll be helping you settle in and assisting you with anything you need while you stay here." Her smile softens even more. "And Alpha Ronan said to call for him if you need anything at all."

I nod my head as she walks closer, bringing the tray to the bed, and then she drags a side table to the side of the bed, placing the tray right on it. Opening the tray, the scent of food wafts through the air, hitting my nose.

I sign, telling her thank you.

"Should I help you up?" I shake my head slowly, managing it myself, even though my arms protest the movement. The IV line shifts with me and I'm careful with it, the way Elias showed me.

Celeste adjusts the tray without being asked, tilting it slightly so it's easier to reach. Are these people real?

I pick up the spoon slowly. The food smells extraordinary, warm broth, soft bread on the side. I have to remind myself to go slowly. My stomach has forgotten what a full meal feels like and the last thing I want is to embarrass myself in front of this kind-faced stranger by getting sick on her nice tray.

I took a spoonful, then another.

My eyes sting, and I blink the tears away quickly because I absolutely refuse to cry over soup, even if it's the best thing I've tasted in so long I can barely remember the last proper meal I had. Every mouthful feels strange, like I'm getting back a part of myself I didn't even realize was missing.

With a spoonful of food in my mouth, I look up to see Celeste walking around, trying to arrange things in order, even the slightest details, it suddenly hits me that's she's trying to stay with me me.

My eyes zeros on her brown orbs when she spun, and I take the chance to immediately sign that she doesnt have to stay.

Her face lit into a smile, deep, flashing ber tow side dimples. "I know my lady, but I want to, if that's fine eith you..."

I stare at her for a moment, her actions triggering memories ive buried down.

I nod slowly, accepting her proposal, and she gives me another bow. Why is she treating me with so much respect even after knowing I'm mute? She's still bowing, still asking politely, not acting like she's above me just because she can talk and I can't.

She settles into the chair near the window, folding her hands in her lap.

I returj to my meal, eating smowly... until the tray is half empty and my stomach starts sending very firm signals that half is probably enough for tonight.

I sign again. 'I'm done.'

"I'll take it," she says, already reaching for the tray. Her eyes scan the little remnants, as though she's satisfied that half of the contents are gone. She lifts it up. "Rest well, my Lady. I'll be just down the hall if you need anything."

Then she bows, walking to the door and pulling it shut behind her.

I lean back against the pillows, staring ceilingward. The ceiling above me is clean and still, the room calm, the kind of silence that almost feels too suspicious, and I'm scared something bad might happen… I'm too scared. I don't want to get too comfortable only to end up back in my cell again.

No footsteps to catalogue and identify before they reach the door, or lying awake calculating whether tonight is going to be a bad night or a worse one.

I exhale slowly, contemplating whether to trust the silence, when a knock suddenly comes at the door.

I raise my brow staring at the door, this time expecting either the doctor. One of the nurses or Celeste to walk back inside.

Immediately, the door creaks open, and that intoxicating scent of vanilla, wood, and chocolate fills the room… my eyes trailing after him as he kicks the door shut and walks right toward my bed.

He's changed now from the casual fit he wore to Westbrook. As an Alpha, I was expecting something more official, but no, he had dressed casually.

Black loose-fitting pants, a shirt that shows every curve of his maddening body. I don't need someone to tell me he actually spends time in the gym… I can already see it for myself.

He moves to the side of the bed, stopping a reasonable distance away, those grey eyes zeroing in on mine. I can't tell what's going on in his head or what he's thinking… his face is plain, void of any emotion, and dare I say it, he's fucking hard to read.

Those eyes stare deeply, as though he can see every corner of my life.

"How are you feeling?" a voice so soft yet hoarse asks.

I nod, and then sign, "I'm fine."

His eyes leave mine, directing to the IV drip before assessing my body.

"I know this is not the right time… but I need you to be completely honest with me, Roselle."

My fingers still against the blanket, my heart hammering again… did I do something wrong?

"The injuries Elias found." Grey eyes meet mine again, unblinking this time. "Was it Warren? Him and his fiancée?"

He sounds so sure, as though he just wants me to confirm it and not object.

I weigh the odds in my head… Ronan had actually slammed Warren onto the table when he caught him hitting me. What would he do when he eventually gets the full picture? Wage war?

Whatever Westbrook is, whatever it did to me, there are people there who had nothing to do with it. Pack members who are innocent, children who don't know what happens in the basement. People who were just trying to survive in the same pack I was surviving in.

If Ronan wages war on Westbrook because of me. I can't. I shake my head.

"No," I sign, keeping my hands steady through sheer force of will. "It wasn't them. I had an accident. I'm always quite clumsy, and sometimes I tend to fall without noticing until I end up getting injured…" I lie, avoiding his gaze.

I meet his gaze again, and his eyes stay on me as though he wants to push for more. Those looks are telling me he's not buying it… and immediately, I'm scrambling through my head for more lies to back up my claims just in case he pushes further.

"Okay," he says simply, as though he's settling for the lesser evil of questions.

He looks at the IV, and then finally says, "Get some rest. Elias says you're not to move around until morning."

I nod, exhaling softly as he turns to leave. He reaches the door and then looks back at me.

I straighten immediately, trying to pull my face into a smile. "Thank you for everything…"

His eyes turn sober… is it just me, or does seeing me smile make him want to cry?

"You don't have to thank me. It's my job to protect you, and I'm doing just that."