05. I'M THE CARETAKER

TEMPEST

The words came out of me, packed with hate before I could stop them.

A second later, I wondered what I looked like in front of this man, but he just kept watching me, eyes steady.

Light and shadow moved over both our faces.

"I’m not the all-powerful General of the realm anymore," he answered, bitter.

"I won’t promise what I can’t deliver. What I can do is find a way to take down, quietly, the person who hurt you."

That person. He could avenge me against the one I hated most... but I had a whole damn list.

"I accept," I said, eyes on his legs. "I think a month by your side could stabilize you."

"Only a month?" His voice went cold and his face hardened. "Why can’t you stay here?"

"Because I’m not your prisoner... or am I?" I rose from the bed and dared to face him.

Fear clamped my chest and slicked my palms, but I held my ground. Swallowing still hurt.

"Besides, my blood isn’t endless, General. Or are you planning to use me until I bleed out?"

"I wouldn’t do that," he said with a rough snort, settling back against the headboard, that storm cloud of bad temper around him.

"Fine. You’ll stay a month and we’ll see. I can get you a place in the pack."

His promise of stability didn’t move me much.

"I’ll push my contacts to help with your revenge. What’s the name of the person you want gone?" His voice drifted from the dark again.

"Alpha Knox of Rosewood Pack." I spit the name out, bile climbing my throat.

Without the Alpha backing her, that Luna would go down hard too.

"I’ll have word on him soon. You can go for now." He reached for the cord beside his bed and tugged.

I didn’t hear a bell, but I figured the service wing heard it.

I stayed standing, not sure what to do.

"Are you waiting for a formal letter, or do you like my room that much?"

"What?" I asked back, feeling stupid. I’d never been anyone’s maid.

Another snort.

"When I tell you to leave, you can just... leave," he said, those blue eyes trying to get inside my head.

"Right. Rest well, sir." I dipped my head and slipped out faster than I meant to.

Honestly, that cave of a room... bitter, sharp herbs, heavy air, danger baked into the dark... not pleasant.

«Well, get used to it. Welcome to the workforce», my spiteful brain chimed in.

Out in the corridor, I eased the door shut and couldn’t help looking through the tall windows. Daylight.

Unlike the beast’s den I’d just left, outside was bright and pretty.

A huge, well-kept garden stretched as far as I could see.

Stone paths with benches. White statues and a fountain in the square. Impressive.

The Royal Pack was everyone’s dream.

The Alpha King ruled all wolves in the realm, but some packs were better than others... his favorites, the sub-capitals.

Knox dreamed of that, of earning honors, and something tells me he used my blood to show off to the King.

What would’ve become of me if I’d stayed a prisoner? Would they have used me for experiments?

My head turned back to the closed door...

I’d lied to the General. I hadn’t told him everything.

Maybe there was a way to burn the poison out completely... but I was scared.

Scared of being locked up again and raped every day. Sick after every “treatment.”

Why would I bring more torture on myself?

"Tempest, come with me." The housekeeper’s voice yanked me out of it. I turned from the window.

Another sturdy woman was with her, mop and bucket in hand.

"Emery, clean everything, fast. Don’t disturb the sir," she ordered, then motioned me to follow.

I thought we’d head back to the servants’ wing, but we didn’t go far. We stepped into a room just around the corner.

"This will be your room. We cleared the last caretaker’s things in a hurry, but it’s clean," she said, crossing to a heavy wooden wardrobe.

A simple little bed sat to one side, with a vanity and chair. Breeze slipped through curtain panels from a tiny balcony.

"These are your uniforms and new underthings. I know you don’t have clothes. When the sir approves it, I’ll have some sets made for you."

She opened the doors and showed me the plain white dresses.

"Not necessary. Those are fine." For a month… enough.

"Here’s your toiletries, and I’ll assign a maid to you so you don’t waste time on chores."

"Mrs. Lydia..." I cut in with the only question that mattered. "Exactly what are my duties as caretaker?"

Everyone kept saying that word. What did it include?

"All duties related to the sir. As the word says, you do everything for him... help where needed and attend to him... entirely."

That last word sent a chill through me. I didn’t really get it then... not until the next day.

They let me rest all night, take a hot bath, eat like never before. It felt like being prepped for slaughter.

In the morning, after breakfast in my room, a girl brought the schedule I had to follow. The pity in her eyes didn’t help.

My hand shook, reading everything I was supposed to do for him.

Help with meals, medical treatments, baths, getting him dressed, taking him for walks, being his shadow... and being there for whatever Sir Whitlock needs me for.

"Damn it. I should ask for a raise," I muttered at my reflection in the vanity mirror.

I still looked gaunt, but between the General and me, it was hard to say who looked worse.

I did my best to look as professional as possible. Blond hair combed back neat, white caretaker’s gown, attitude... mediocre at best.

"It’s time. Come on, Tempest... what a fun month of babysitting," I huffed, leaving my room for the master’s chamber.

«Just one month... just one month...» I kept chanting it, with no idea how wrong I was.

*****

At the heavy doors, I found them slightly open.

I knocked softly; no one answered, so I risked going in.

The same suffocating air met me, but light spilled from an adjoining room. Water poured, slow and steady.

The bed was empty.

"I’m the caretaker," I whispered, giving myself the nerve to snoop closer.

Then the General’s roar of agony shook the mansion, and I ran straight into the bath.

I got there just in time to see the housekeeper about to make a fatal mistake.

Mrs. Lydia stood over the tub, about to dump a bucket of ice-cold water over Sir Whitlock’s convulsing body.

"Noo! Don’t you dare do that!!!"