CHAPTER THREE

LORI

Distorted voices echo in my ears as I slowly regain consciousness. The voices fade when a low moan escapes my lungs, and I rub my hand against my eyes gently.

“She’s awake.” A female voice whispers. “Call Vince, fast.”

As my eyes can make out images, I see a man hurry out of the room. Slowly, I slide up against the soft, high headrest, and I feel a sharp pain at the back of my left hand. I grimace and observe the IV line I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Sorry about that.” The strange woman whispers and pushes the IV line stand closer to me.

“How are you feeling, Lori?” She inquires.

I shake my head slowly, replaying the last events I witnessed in my head, and I suck in a deep breath. The Strays.

“I’m Lola.” The woman beams warmly, probably trying to help me relax. “Do you feel any internal pain?” 

I sigh deeply, nodding as I consider the room. Simple is the word that describes it, but the large bed stands out. Whoever leaves here must sleep roughly, I muse. Most likely belongs to one of the lower ranks in this pack. The view from the small balcony to my left hints that I’m at least two storeys up.

“How long have I been out?” I manage, slightly above a whisper.

“Oh, yeah. Forty-eight hours.” She says casually.

My lungs almost give out as I gasp in shock. Lola quickly extends a hand to cradle my shoulder, and I flinch slightly. She withdraws her hand and slightly raises it to bare her palms at me.

“Sorry. Please relax.” She reassures, “It’s not that bad.” 

‘Not too bad?” I panic, my voice rising slightly, and I gently massage my protruding stomach. 

A sore feeling sweeps over me, and my hands begin to tremble. Many things would have happened in two days. Lola places her hand on mine gently and fixes a stern gaze into my eyes.

“Please, Lori, relax. You’re safe in Ashmoon. That douchebag Barrett can’t touch you here, not anymore.” Lola guarantees.

“Ashmoon? How?”

Last I heard of Vince, the Alpha of the Strays, he had just desecrated a pack that tried to kill one of his. The only member of that pack who survived to tell the tale died a week later. I raise a brow at Lola, and thankfully, she reads the silent question.

“Vince took over as alpha six months ago after my father passed.” She explains.

I let out a shallow breath, relieved by the intel. Then I look over Lola’s shoulder, and my brows furrow, wondering why Vince hasn’t arrived yet. 

“He has an enormous amount of catching-up to do, even till now.” She signals towards the door with her thumb. “He’s probably taking care of—”

Lola is interrupted as Vince enters the room, eyes fixed on me even as Lola briefs him on my current state. His one fiercely looking eye seems to hold me in place as I wonder what he’s thinking. Probably wondering why he saved me.

My eyes don’t leave his, a legion of questions about this infamous alpha who defied odds and still does, adding saving me to the tally. No alpha force has ever terrified me the way Vince’s seems to outweigh my defenses with his force pouring out in gigantic waves.

“Yo, are you even listening to me?” Lola taps Vince’s arm with the back of her hand.

He nods lightly, not taking his eye off me. I didn’t notice the wounded left eye when Vince saved me from Barrett; the towering trees had hidden that from me. 

“How are you feeling?” Vince finally speaks, his deep voice bouncing off the room walls.

“Better,” I reply hesitantly.

“You’ll have to forgive my sister; she tends to be a pest when she meets someone new.” His mouth stretches in a mischievous grin as he finally faces Lola.

I heave a sigh, smiling as ease washes over me, grateful as the suffocating atmosphere fizzles out. I observe Vince, who’s a good way over six feet and built like a metal tank with a big, grey, oversized t-shirt. Strange, most alphas prefer shirts that reveal their ripped muscles.

Lola arches her brows, nudging Vince with her shoulder. Her shoulder hits his chest as she’s almost as tall, but with a curved physique that’ll have any man drool in her skin-tight turtleneck top.

“Well, you seem to love me more every day.” She muses.

Vince scoffs slightly, then turns to me. Even with one functioning eye, he looks so menacing.

“I’d like to have a word with Lori.” He demands.

Lola nods and walks out, leaving the room door ajar. The moderately spaced room suddenly felt too tight. He picks up a metal chair not far from him to sit beside the bed. I observe the still open door with knitted brows, and Vince looks over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about that. My room’s safe.” He assures.

His room? I hush the urge to question why an alpha lives in a room so simple. Gazing at Vince, my brows tighten, anticipating his interrogation.

“How many times?” He asks. My brows tighten closer.

“How many times did you try to escape?” 

My lips part, and I blink my eyes a few times in shock, not expecting that to be the first thing he’d want to know. Vince was still staring with unwavering focus, clearly oblivious of my disbelief or too expectant for an answer. I gaze down, sighing; I caress my stomach.

“Ten,” I whisper. “And failed all ten times.” A teardrop races down my left cheek. 

Waves of memories hit as hard as they always have—pictures without frames, terrorizing and taunting. My head snaps up when I hear the chair screech. Vince starts pacing, running his hand through his hair to the back.

He suddenly halts near the balcony and faces to his left. I doubt he sees me since his patched eye and a rigid half-face are all I have in view, but there’s no doubting his fury.

“No one should do that to a pregnant woman.” He faces the window. I open my mouth to speak, but his fierce voice interrupts me. 

“They’ll pay for it.”

I blow out a deep breath, wishing it were that easy. I want Barrett to pay, badly, but not until my baby is born.

“How?” I ask, and Vince fixes a rigid glare on my eyes.