CHAPTER 9

Axel’s pov

I sat in my room, sifting through some old pictures on my desk. Most of them were old memories, so simple and carefree. I frowned but try as I might, couldn’t shake the anger that had consumed me since the day that woman had entered my life.

Karla.

That woman. She had rejected me and my brothers in front of people in the pack. She was supposed to be our destined mate, not that it mattered to me in any way. I would never tolerate her; certainly not after this grand display she had turned it into!

If she wanted to be stubborn and hate us then fine! I wasn’t going to waste my time anymore trying to keep her under control because she didn’t deserve our efforts.

I was going through another photo when my mother, Luna Stephanie, entered my room without bothering to knock. She never did and always assumed she had the right to enter our space.

“Axel,” she said steadily. “You have to go and talk to her.”

I didn’t even look up from the picture I was holding. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” she argued, stepping closer. “She’s your mate. Whether you like it or not, she’s tied to you and your brothers. You can’t ignore her forever.”

“I’m not ignoring her,” I said flatly. “I’m giving her exactly what she wants, space. She obviously doesn’t want to be around us, so why should I bother?”

She sighed heavily and crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you even want a mate, Axel? Or are you just going to let her suffer until she’s fucking broken?”

Her words made me hesitate, but I calmed my anger. “I want a mate, mother,” I replied after some time passed. “But not her. She’s really impossible. And besides, I don’t even care about her. Who does she think she is thinking she can go around insulting me and the others. She is nothing. She should know her place. She is weak and pathetic and…”

“Axel!” She yelled as she called me to order but I took up a deep breath before leaning back in my seat. “When did you become so cold and heartless to the point of talking to your mate like this? You finally have a wonderful mate who is willing to sacrifice her life for you and you treat her this way.”

“She isn’t willing to do anything,” I scoffed. “Or did you not hear her?”

“I did but you should still help her get comfortable in this palace. Don’t push her aside.”

Almost immediately, a knock on my door had us looking in that direction.

“Enter,” I called, needing the distraction.

One of the household staff entered, looking pale and anxious. “Sir Axel,” she greeted me with a slight bow of her head. “My Luna, We’ve tried to serve Miss Karla her meals but she hasn’t opened her door. She hasn’t eaten since yesterday.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. I shot out of my seat, the legs scraping loudly against the white tiled floor. “She hasn’t eaten?”

The maid shook her head sadly. “No, sir. We’ve been trying all morning and even yesterday and two days ago but she won’t respond. She locked herself in the room.”

I didn’t bother waiting for any more information. I didn’t even say anything as I pushed past both my mother and the maid, then marched straight to Karla’s room, making sure to include the loudest stomping noise possible with every step along the way.

Two maids were standing guard outside her door as well. They looked up with obvious relief mingled with concern when they saw me approaching.

“Move." I growled as they did so.

I knocked hard on the door, leaving my hand pressed to it. "Karla," I said as gently as I could. "Open the door."

There was no answer.

I knocked again, louder this time. “Karla, it’s me. Open the door.”

Still nothing.

I looked at the maids. They were as worried as I was, although I would never tell them that. I looked back at the door and repeated my earlier act.

“Karla, I’m not going to stand here all day. Open the door. Now.”

The silence that followed was strange. I gritted my teeth, my patience waning.

Karla!” I shouted, punching the door with my fist. “You’re being ridiculous! Just open the door!”

I waited. Silence.

There was a tightness in my chest—a strange, unfamiliar kind of tightness. I told myself it was irritation, maybe even anger, but I knew better.

It was worry.

I despised the fact that I still gave a damn. After everything she’d put us through, after what she had done to us. Why should I care if she had locked herself away and taken this mysterious vow of silence?

But no matter how hard I tried to banish those thoughts from my mind for good reason they refused to go.

The bond. It had to be the bond. That was the only explanation for why I even cared about her.

Turning to the maids, I said, “Get the key to this door. Now.”

One of them hesitated. “Sir, are you sure—”

“Are you questioning me?” I snapped, cutting her off.

She bowed quickly and scurried back down the hall, leaving me with the other maid who kept her eyes on me nervously.

I waited for a while but the maid didn’t show up on time as I decided to break the door and get in.

Without waiting, I broke through the door and entered the room.

The room was dark, the curtains were shut. A heavy, dusty smell seemed to be in the air and I grunted at that.

“Karla?” I said, entering.

She was lying on the bed, her back to the door. Her body was still, too still. For a moment, my heart stopped.

I crossed the room quickly; my boots echoed against the floor. When I reached the bed, I saw her face—pale and tear-streaked—but she wasn’t breathing.