Chapter 20
Alpha Jeremiah carried me through the dimly lit corridors of his pack house, his grip firm, his face unreadable. My arm had already healed, and the bruises from the rogue attack faded as if they were never there, thanks to my werewolf abilities. But inside, I felt anything but strong. I felt trapped, confused, and more than a little terrified.
When we finally reached his room, he pushed the door open, stepping inside without a word. I wasn’t surprised by the interior. His room, like the rest of the pack house, was immaculately clean, though it had more color than I expected. The walls were a soft grey, the furniture sleek and modern, with black and white dominating the space. His bed, large enough to fit several people, was covered in crisp white sheets, and everything seemed to reflect his personality—cold, controlled, and without warmth.
He set me down on the bed, and I sank into the soft mattress, hoping to disappear into it. My heart raced, but I kept my mouth shut this time. I’d caused enough chaos today, and after what just happened in the forest, I didn’t want to test him any further. Alpha Jeremiah’s face was like stone, his expression impossible to read. Was he still angry? I couldn’t tell.
He stood in front of me, arms crossed, his gaze steady as he studied me, making me feel exposed and small. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and controlled. “Why are you so intent on provoking me?”
His words caught me off guard. He wasn’t yelling, he wasn’t growling—he was genuinely asking. His calm tone made me want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Provoking him? Was he serious? The irony was almost too much to bear. But I bit my tongue, keeping my thoughts to myself.
“Do you enjoy riling me up?” he asked, as if genuinely curious.
I looked up at him, searching for any sign of anger, but there was none. His calm demeanor was unsettling. I couldn’t help the scoff that escaped my lips. How could he act so calm, so detached, after everything?
I stood up from the bed, my body trembling, but this time with anger. “Why are you treating me like this?” I demanded, my voice shaky but firm. “Why did you bring me here, Jeremiah? You obviously don’t want me. What did I ever do to you to deserve this? Tell me!”
His eyes darkened, and I saw the muscle in his jaw clench, the vein in his forehead pulsing with barely restrained fury. But he didn’t lash out. He didn’t yell. Instead, he stepped closer, the air between us crackling with tension.
“You want to know why?” His voice was low, dangerous. “You really want to know why I brought you here, Astrid?”
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, fear creeping into my veins. His proximity made it hard to breathe, but I refused to back down. I needed answers.
He leaned in, his face inches from mine, and I could see the cold hatred in his eyes. “Your family,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “Your murderous family. Do you think I’d forget what they’ve done? What they’re responsible for?”
I blinked, confusion clouding my mind. My family? Murderous? What was he talking about? “I don’t understand,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “What did my family do?”
Jeremiah’s expression twisted into something darker, more sinister. He stepped even closer, so close I could feel his breath on my skin. “By the time I’m done, you will all regret ever existing in this world,” he growled, his voice like ice.
My stomach twisted in fear. His words sent a cold chill through my entire body, and I took a step back, but he grabbed me, his hand gripping my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. I gasped, unable to pull away, trapped by his strength and the searing intensity of his gaze.
“You have no idea, do you?” he scoffed, his voice soft but terrifying. “You don’t even know the blood on your family’s hands. But you will. Soon enough.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please, just tell me.”
His grip tightened, his eyes boring into mine with a hatred that made my heart ache. “You’ll see,” he said quietly. “But not tonight.”
I stared at him, my mind racing. What had my family done? What was he talking about? My father had mentioned Jeremiah in passing before, but never like this. Never with this kind of intensity. Had my parents kept something from me? Had they been involved in something terrible?
“Get out,” Jeremiah commanded, his voice suddenly cold and final. His hand dropped from my chin, and he stepped back, his expression unreadable once again. “Get out of my room, Astrid.”
I stood there for a moment, frozen in place, staring at him with wide, teary eyes. His words were like daggers, each one cutting deeper into my confusion and fear. I wanted to scream, to demand answers, but I knew better. He looked so cold, so distant, like any warmth he had was locked away, far beyond my reach.
Without another word, I turned and walked out of the room, my legs shaky as I made my way down the hallway. I wanted to run, but I forced myself to walk, my mind spinning with questions. Murderous family? What had he meant by that? And why did he hate me so much for something I didn’t even know about?
I reached my room and immediately threw myself onto the bed, pulling the blankets over my head. I felt small, helpless, trapped in a situation I didn’t understand. My heart hurt, not just from his words but from the weight of the mate bond, pulling me toward a man who seemed to despise me. A man who, for reasons I didn’t understand, wanted to destroy my family.
I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion take over as I fell asleep.
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