Chapter 35

SARA

I watched Alpha Tristan chase after Yvonne, and I knew deep in my gut that something was horribly wrong. Over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed that Tristan was always trying to find an excuse to touch me each time I tried to treat his wounds or change his bandages. Usually, Yvonne was always hovering nearby, and she would make a loud, pointed grunt to remind him of her presence just in case he had momentarily forgotten she existed.

So, when I saw her standing in my room, staring at me and Alpha Tristan in what looked like a compromised position, I became more than a bit worried. I was terrified. I knew better than anyone that she had been hopelessly in love with Alpha Tristan for as long as anyone could remember.

Strangely, as I looked at the fury in her eyes, it seemed like the very words I had once told her were finally coming to pass. I could hear my own voice echoing in my mind: "He would sleep with any other woman in this pack before he ever recognized you as a mate. He would take a common kitchen maid or a prisoner like me into his bed out of spite or lust before he ever looked at you with desire. You are his tool, Yvonne. Nothing more. And a tool doesn't get loved. It gets used until it’s dull, and then it gets replaced."

I remembered those words vividly, and I knew in that instant that Yvonne would have her pound of flesh. It was only a matter of time before she came for me to prove me wrong, or to punish me for being right. So, I mentally prepared myself for the storm that was about to break over my head.

This situation wouldn't have mattered quite so much if Yvonne was not so desperately in love with Alpha Tristan. It was even more worrisome now that Alpha Tristan was beginning to see me as a sex slave—a toy to be toiled with, an object for his base desires. In truth, I was paralyzed by the thought of the payments that Yvonne had promised. There is nothing quite as dangerous or as destructive as the scorn of a woman in love. It is a volatile, lethal thing.

I thought briefly about running away, but the idea was dead before it could even form. I was strictly forbidden from going outside until they could assure me that the threat of the Alpha Runes was no more. So, I simply sat on my narrow cot and waited for whatever was about to happen. It was no longer a matter of if they would come for me, but when.

The silence in my cramped, windowless room didn't last long after Tristan had stormed out. It was soon replaced by the heavy, echoing thud of combat boots returning down the hallway. They didn't bother to knock. My heartbeat quickened into a frantic rhythm when I heard those heavy boots vibrating through the floorboards. I instinctively knew they were coming for me.

Alpha Tristan kicked the door open with a violence that made the hinges groan, filling the frame with his massive silhouette, but it was Yvonne who stepped past him first. Seeing them together like that confused me. Wasn't he just chasing after her to appease her? Did they truly make up that fast? Although I was expecting a confrontation, I wasn't expecting the two of them to come personally to deal with a lowly prisoner.

Her face was dry now, devoid of the tears I had seen earlier. She looked terrifyingly calm, like the slick, deceptive surface of a frozen lake. The raw, screaming rage was gone, replaced by a cold, calculated need for total destruction.

"Yvonne. Tristan," I muttered, my eyes darting from side to side as I looked for an exit that didn't exist.

"It's Alpha Tristan, you worm," Yvonne growled, her voice low and dangerous.

I knew something terrible was about to happen, and I wished more than anything that I could be anywhere else in the world. But before I could even attempt to back away into the corner, Yvonne lunged forward. She grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back and dragging me toward the center of the room.

"Tristan, I'm sorry! Alpha Tristan!" I gasped, looking toward him for some shred of help. It was a foolish, desperate reflex.

Something about this entire moment made me feel like I was being played with by cruel gods. Imagining asking Tristan—my sworn enemy, my captor, and the man who held my life in his hands—for help against his own secret admirer? It was fucked up in so many ways I couldn't even count them.

He didn't move to help. Instead, he leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his powerful arms over his chest. His expression was utterly impassive, his eyes like flint.

"Don't look at me." There was a new edge to his tone that made my blood run cold. "I've realized something, Sara. Those medical checks... the way you let your hands linger on my chest when you pretend to check my heart rate. The way you lean in, often far too closely. You've been subtly seducing me under the guise of medical treatment, haven't you?"

My jaw dropped in pure shock. "What? No! You forced me to—"

"Silence!" Yvonne snapped, jerking my head back so hard I felt my neck pop. "Rule number one: Speak only when you are addressed. You are a manipulative little parasite, aren't you? Trying to worm your way into his bed while the memory of the mate you murdered is still fresh in our minds."

"That's a lie!" I screamed, struggling fruitlessly against her iron grip. I didn't know what else to say. I wasn't the one lying here; Tristan was the one weaving this fantasy. Was that why they had made up so quickly? Had he offered me up as a sacrificial lamb to soothe Yvonne’s wounded ego?