Chapter 9

AURORA

She told me her name was Josie when she came in carrying a tray of food like she'd done it a hundred times before, chatting easily the second she stepped through the door like the two of us had known each other for years already instead of mere minutes.

"You need to eat something," she said, setting the tray down carefully beside the bed. "Doctor's orders, and honestly, my own orders too. You look like you haven't had a real, proper meal in weeks, and don't try telling me otherwise."

I hadn't, but I didn't say that part out loud.

She was younger than me, maybe, with an easy, open smile that didn't match a single thing I'd expected to find anywhere in Ravenwood. She talked while she moved around the room, laying out clean folded clothes across the chair, fixing the heavy curtains so the light filtered in just right, and filling the silence between us before it could even turn heavy and uncomfortable.

For a few minutes, just listening to her go on about nothing in particular—the weather outside, the grumpy kitchen staff, anything at all—almost made me manage to forget to be afraid of where I was.

Almost.

"You don't have to keep smiling at me like that," I said quietly, watching her fuss over a pillow that didn't need fixing at all. "I know exactly what I am here. A prisoner, just one with softer chains than the ones I had before, in a nicer room than a cell."

Josie stopped moving completely and looked over at me, her easy smile vanishing for the very first time since she walked through the door. "You're not a prisoner."

"Then what am I, exactly?"

"I don’t know. But I just know Alpha Roman doesn’t want you kept in regular cells like the rest of the prisoners you were shipped with," she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. "And around here, believe me, that's not nothing. That's not nothing at all."

I wanted to believe her. I really did. But trust wasn't something that came easily to me anymore, not after everything I'd survived just to end up in this particular bed, in this particular pack, wearing borrowed clothes and carrying a baby whose own father didn't even give a damn about us.

"How long have you worked for him?" I asked, picking at the food at the edge of the bowl instead of actually eating anything in it.

"Since I was sixteen," Josie answered, sitting on the edge of a chair like she wasn't sure she was allowed to sit at all. "My mom worked in the kitchens before me. Most of the staff here are not just hired help. Ravenwood took us in when nobody else would."

"Took you in from what?"

She waved a hand like it wasn't worth getting into, though the look in her eyes said it very much was. "Long story. The point is, people don't leave here once they've seen how it actually works. That should tell you something."

"It tells me you're all a little bit scared of him," I pointed out.

"Maybe," Josie admitted. "Or maybe we just know better than to judge a man by what his enemies say about him."

"Tell me about him," I said instead, pulling the blanket a little tighter around myself like it could actually protect me from the answer. "People always say a lot of scary things about him back home."

Josie's expression shifted slightly, wary now, like she was choosing each word carefully before letting it leave her mouth.

"What exactly have you heard?" she asked, setting down the blanket in her hands.

"That he's killed kings. That he's destroyed whole packs without even blinking. That he doesn't have any emotions.” I swallowed hard. "That everyone south of here is absolutely terrified to even say his name out loud in front of their own children, in case saying it brings him running."

Josie was quiet for a long moment, folding a blanket that honestly didn't need any folding at all. I could tell she was just giving her hands something to do while she thought through her answer carefully.

"He's not what people say he is," she finally said, her voice quiet, almost like she was worried about being overheard. "But I wouldn't cross him either. Not for anything in this world."

"That's not really an answer, Josie."

She let out a small laugh, though there wasn't much real humor hiding behind it. "No. I suppose it isn't much of one, is it? Not really."

"Please," I said, leaning forward slightly despite the ache still sitting deeply in my bones from days of being chained in the back of that truck. "I need to understand him. He's holding my entire life in his hands right now, whether I like it or not, and my baby's life too."

Josie glanced toward the closed door, almost like she needed to check whether it was still shut tight before she said another word. Then she lowered her voice enough that I had to lean in closely just to catch every single word she was saying.

"Nobody here really knows the full truth about what he did to earn that name," she said. "Not even the ones who've served him for years. We know pieces of it, here and there, bits and rumors stitched together." She paused, and a serious look settled heavily over her whole face, chasing away every trace of her earlier easy smile completely. "But I do know one thing for certain."

"What's that?" I whispered.

Josie met my eyes steadily, and for the first time since she first walked through that door with her tray and her easy chatter, she didn't look like she was simply being kind anymore. She looked like she meant every single word she was about to say.

"He'd do it again," she said. "Without hesitating for even a single second."