CHAPTER FOUR

LARA

My eyes fluttered open to the softest light I had ever known, and a scent of clean linen and cedar that was utterly foreign. I was in a massive bed, and next to me, standing by the headboard, was Alpha Jerry. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the scene to be a dream. I should have been in the pit, the cold, hard earth beneath me, the ants a familiar, crawling torment. Not here, not in this soft, warm bed, with him.

"Get the doctor," I heard Alpha Jerry's voice, laced with urgency. "She opened her eyes, but she’s gone back to sleep."

Oh no. What had happened? I felt a cool hand on my wrist, and then another gently lift my eyelid. It was the doctor. There was no point in pretending anymore. I opened my eyes again and sat up abruptly, a wave of dizziness washing over me.

"How are you doing, Lara?" the man asked, introducing himself as Doctor James, the pack doctor. Alpha Jerry immediately stepped closer, his presence a heavy weight in the room.

"I shouldn’t be here," I stammered, scrambling to get off the bed. A part of me believed this was just another form of torture—false kindness before the final punishment. My body was shivering, but not from the cold.

"Lara, when was the last time you had a good meal?" Alpha Jerry's question felt like a cruel joke. Did he not know? Did he not see the starvation I had endured?

"On my wedding day," I said, the memory of that day bringing fresh tears to my eyes. The doctor, sensing my distress, interjected. "She just needs a decent meal and good rest." He left a few vials on the nightstand, giving Alpha Jerry instructions on how to administer the medication.

As I watched them, a profound confusion settled over me. Why was I getting this kindness, this attention? We were fated mates, I knew, but our bond was already impossible. He was Max’s brother, and everyone in the pack—including my own sister—blamed me for Max's death. This love was a forbidden, dangerous thing.

A moment later, a tray of food was brought in on golden, royal plates. "Here is your food," he said, placing it on my lap. I just stared at him, my hands trembling. I was starving, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I wanted to hug him, to kiss him, but instead, I pleaded, "Please, let me take it to my pit. I cannot eat in here."

He said nothing. He simply took the spoon, scooped up a small portion of the food, and held it out to me. "No, sir," I refused, my voice barely a whisper. "I have to feed myself." I feared it was poisoned, a final, cruel act. As I began to eat, I became aware of his gaze. He watched my every move, from the plate to my mouth, and it made it impossible to eat properly. Eventually, he must have noticed because he excused himself and left the room.

The moment the door closed, I devoured the food like a freed prisoner. It had been what felt like a lifetime since I had eaten a proper meal—just a slice of bread and half a bottle of water a day since Max's death. It was more than just hunger; I was desperate.

When he returned, he saw the empty plate. "Are you okay?" he asked. I simply nodded, still wary of this different, gentle side of him.

Then, he pulled out the sack. The one I had packed with my few clothes, ready to escape on my wedding night. "I saw this and I wanted to know why you packed your clothes."

How could I tell him? How could I explain that my escape would make me look guilty of a crime I didn't commit? "Those are my clothes," I said, my lips trembling.

"I am aware of the dresses," he roared, his voice suddenly hard. "Just tell me your plans!" This was the Alpha Jerry I had been warned about.

"I didn't kill Max," I insisted, my voice cracking.

"I didn't say you did, young woman," he retorted, but his tone was still cold. I looked to the heavens, praying for the goddess to give me the right words.

"I had plans to run away that night," I finally admitted, "because I didn't want to lose my virginity to a man I do not love. It was a forced marriage."

He scratched his head and paced the room. "You didn't want to lose your virginity to your husband? Young lady, find another lie."

It was pointless. He didn't believe me. I turned to leave, but he stopped me, holding my wrist. "Don’t come too close to me," I begged, my hand flying to cover my mouth. "I stink." But he gently removed my hand. His eyes held mine, and he tenderly brushed a strand of hair from my face.

We were so close I could hear his breath, feel the warmth of his body. Just as I was about to pull away, he placed both hands on my face, lifted my head, and leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. It was my first kiss, and it was passionate, sending shivers down my spine. I kissed him back, wanting to feel every part of him.

But then, a flicker of my sister Eveline’s face flashed in my mind, and I pushed him away. "No, this is wrong," I said, hurrying to the door. I unbolted it, and standing on the other side was Eveline.