Chapter Three

I blinked against the bright white lights, temporarily blinded by it. Finally my eyes adjusted to the brightness. I was in a different ward, this one was smaller, emptier.

I tried seating up, only to notice the tubes connected to my body.  I pulled them out, before staggering to my feet. The room spinned before my eyes, and a wave of sickness washed over me, forcing me to reach for the closest thing—which just happened to be a bin-bucket. I threw up, retching until there was nothing left.

Rage burnt in my chest, one that could only be satisfied by blood, but right now I was in no condition to seek after that. With my wolf gone, I was at my weakest, going up against an Alpha as powerful as Jefferson would be suicide. I didn’t escape death to fall back right into it.

I needed to leave.

I needed to leave this pack, but the question was to where? There was nothing waiting for me out there, no one and yet, I knew I had no other choice.

With the urgency burning in my mind, I made my way to the door.

Locked.

I pulled harder at the door, but it wouldn’t bulge. The door was the only exit, as the single window was way too small, and even that too was locked.

Panic tightened my chest, but right now I had to reign in the fear.

One thing was clear, Jefferson didn’t have me locked in here because he feared I'd escape. From what he’d said earlier, he believed my chances of survival were little to none. This lock was meant to keep people out. Of course he couldn’t have the pack members discovering his dirty secret.

I ran my hands through the mass of my red disheveled hair, ‘Think, Eloise, Think’, I muttered to myself, and finally I got it.

When I'd been in coma, I'd had no visitors, but one. Marcene. She visited daily to run checkups. I'd been able to tell it was her from the whispered song she’d always mumbled anytime she worked, and god did I hate those songs.

The thought of her filled me with burning anger. I’d never been a violent person, but right now more than anything else I wanted her dead. I had to remind myself that she was my only ticket out of here.

So now, all I had to do was wait for her visit.

I didn’t wait long. The jingle of keys announced her arrival. I held unto the fire-extinguisher I’d taken off the side of the wall, tight. It had been the only weapon I could find in this otherwise empty room.

A thought crossed my mind, one I hadn’t considered earlier. What if it was Jefferson at the door and not Marcene? 

A strange emotion ran through me. It wasn’t just hatred, or anger but… fear.

I hated him, and yet I feared him just as much.

Then I heard the mumbled song, the very same one Marcene always sang. While I still hated the song, I couldn’t deny the relief it brought.

I waited  by the side of the door, and the moment she stepped inside, I striked—slamming the fire extinguisher hard against her head. She fell to the ground with a thud.

I imagined the Eloise from a month ago would be in total shock at what I’d just done, but staring at the woman who’d denied me of even a single glance at my own child, I held no regret. I didn’t wait to check if she was still breathing, each minute I spent here risked me being found, and so I picked up the keys, locked her in, before tossing the keys into the flower pot beside the door.

For twenty two years, the Winter-Hill Pack house had been my only home, and yet walking down the hallway, I couldn’t help but feel like a stranger—an intruder in a place that was once my home.

At the sound of footsteps approaching, I quickly hid, taking cover behind a pillar. My heart pounded in my chest at the thought that it might be… him . It wasn’t. It was a small group of maids who weren’t even heading my way.

“I can’t imagine how hard it is for the Alpha,” one of them said, her voice tinged with sadness and concern, “Losing both wife and child.” 

“It’s… horrifying. I fear it’s enough to make any wolf, alpha or not, go rogue.” commented the second.

“The thought that he might keep me up at night,” admitted another, “At this point, the whole pack is worried about his health.”  

Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them back. Crying never truly solves anything.

Still I wondered what would happen if I step away from the pillar giving me cover, I wondered what would happen if I let them see that I was alive and Jefferson was no more than a liar and a deceiver.

They wouldn’t believe me. That’s how good of an actor Jefferson was. In fact, I was quite sure that if I'd told this to my younger self, she wouldn’t have believed me either.

The moment they were gone, I slipped into the closest room I could find, which happened to be my painting space.

It was once my favorite part of the pack house because in here, I was free. Free to be more than just a Luna. In here I’d always felt like I was in my own fantasy world, but today, standing here… I felt like I was trapped in a cage. This place had been polluted by him. He was everywhere.

I stared at the paintings hung on the wall.

I’d made those paintings, each and everyone of them. I’d drawn him so many times that his image was etched into the back of my mind, I knew what his lips looked like, I knew the exact shade of brown his eyes were, I knew every curve of his body, even more than I did mine.

And now those paintings stared back at me, mocking me. The smirk on his face, the glint in his eyes… they all mocked me.

I shook with revulsion and anger, stronger than I’d ever felt for anyone in my life. I thought back to all the hours I'd spent on each piece, sacrificing nights of sleep to make them into perfection. I liked seeing the approval in his eyes anytime I showed my pieces to him.

Now… Now I wanted nothing more but to watch them all burn.

I walked to the one in the middle, the one that watched me with a smirk and with a cry, I tore it down, along with every other painting I'd made, until they were nothing but litter on the marbled floor.

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! Those words had become a mantra in my mind and yet I knew I had to leave if I planned on staying alive.

My paint space had a balcony, one I usually left open anytime I worked. The distance down was no more than a few feet. I'd definitely survived a fall from that height, so I made my way to the balcony, walked up to the very edge, and then… I stepped over it.

*

‘In loving memory of Eloise Taleborn, Luna of the Winter–Hill Pack.’

I stared at the grave stone, bearing my name. Flowers of different shades and colors laid on what was supposed to be my grave. I wondered whose body laid in the coffin—if there was any at all.

I imagined Jefferson had stood here and mourned my death just as everyone else in the pack had.

My chest tightened as my thoughts drifted to my parents. I wondered if they’d gotten curious enough to dig deeper into the matter or if like everyone else in this pack, they’d believed his words. I wouldn’t blame them if they did, I too had believed him.

Jefferson was right about one thing. Eloise Taleborn had died right here, in this grave, and in this pack. She’d died alongside her child and every of her silly dreams had died with her.

This girl standing here bore no identity, she was anything and everything she had to be to bring Alpha Jefferson Scott of the Winter-Hills pack down.