WARNING!

My slumber was turbulent throughout the night. Tossing and turning, adjusting to my bound wrists. I awoke for about the fifth time, this time to morning sunlight streaming through the curtains from behind.

Right then, the door swings open, revealing a very fatigued-looking Evans Decuir. His eyes are exhausted, with deep plum- crescents beneath them. He appears to have recently showered, his damp hair slicked back on his forehead.

His aroma sets my wolf whimpering, forcing me to take a few deep breaths to compose myself. A rich, masculine fragrance blends with his earthy, woody scent, causing my heart to skip a few beats.

He approaches, still declining to meet my gaze. My morale plummets. For some unknown reason, I yearn for his notice.

That reason likely being the mate bond.

Doesn't he sense it as well?

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He extends his palm towards me, his voice devoid of emotion. "Hands," he orders.

I comply, placing the bound bundle of rope in his open hand. With his other hand, he begins to liberate me with a single extended claw on his index finger.

It slices through the rope like a hot knife through butter, making me shiver inwardly. The thought of that same claw pressed against skin, inflicting the same damage, is unsettling.

Once severed, the ropes drop from my wrists, revealing skin that's inflamed, irritated, and chafed. The sweat in the abrasions only exacerbates the stinging sensation.

Evans' gaze falls upon my freed wrists, and for a moment, I think I see a flicker of concern in his eyes. But it's quickly replaced with his usual stoic expression, leaving me wondering if I imagined it altogether.

Evans seems to flinch at the sight, his eyes locked intently on my crimson-hued hands. For a fleeting moment, I feel a spark of excitement.

The look in his eyes, locked anxiously on my hands, almost makes it seem like he genuinely cares. Like the sight pains him. I anticipate he'll finally speak, but instead, he turns away abruptly with a quiet growl and heads for the exit.

And just like that, I'm left alone once more. The silence is deafening.

Half an hour passes before I finally muster the will to wander downstairs. When I do, there's no trace of Evans. To both my dismay and my pleasure, I find his scent lingering faintly about the house. It triggers a desolate feeling within me, something unexplainable.

I feel a pang of longing, mixed with a sense of relief. His absence is a bittersweet reminder of our complicated connection. I'm unsure what to make of it, or how to process the tumultuous emotions swirling inside me.

Ugh! Avery, are you missing him or what?

Before I can decipher the emotion, three solid knocks resonate from the front door. Initially, I freeze, recalling Alpha Jaime's ominous command: "Take her." Now they've come for me. They know Evans brought me back, and now they know he's gone.

Panic sets in as I realize I'm alone and unprotected. The memory of Alpha Jaime's menacing tone sends a shiver down my spine. I take a shaky breath as the icy chill of vulnerability clenches my heart, making it hard to think clearly.

A few seconds later, three more knocks come, this time more impatiently. The sound echoes through the silent house, making me feel like I'm running out of time. My mind races with possibilities, none of which seem pleasant. Who is at the door?

Have they come to take me away?

And what will happen to me if they have?

"Goddamn it, open the door!" Here is the text with some words changed and added paragraphs:

A very irritated, yet comforting voice yells from the other side of the door. A voice I've stored away in my memory as belonging to the only friendly person in this pack - Lila. Immediately, I'm rushing to the door, my adrenaline-filled fingers fumbling over the handle to get it open.

As I fling the door open, I'm met with a warm and welcoming smile. "Oh my! It's really you!” Lila exclaims, her voice laced with relief. Before I can respond, I'm being pulled into a rib-crushing hug. Her arms envelop me, holding me tightly as if she'll never let me go.

I inhale Lila's scent, the familiarity of it a much-needed comfort. My nose presses down on the top of her shoulder, my face burrowed into her curly strands of dark brown, almost black hair. The warmth of her embrace and the comfort of her presence calm my racing heart, and for a moment, I feel safe.

That worthless scum! Where is he? I'm gonna bash his head in”,she growls, her chin bobbing on my shoulder as she does.

"You wish” I grumble, finally freeing myself from her suffocating bear hug.

Whether she hears the vexation in my voice or sees it on my face, Lila's brown lips fall into a frown. But it's not a sad frown, because her sharp eyebrows scrunch together in indignation, revealing her growing anger.

"Where the hell does he get off thinking you owe him a marriage?" Her voice rises in ire, each word laced with increasing outrage. The blackmailed marriage. I had almost completely forgotten about it, but now it comes flooding back.

Remembering it only makes all of my previous questions resurface. Surely Astrid won't still try to go through with it. The thought alone is nauseating. A sickening bile rises in my throat as I recall how close I came to being bound to that spoiled, arrogant fool.

The only comfort I find, however, is in the fact that so long as Evans is here, holding the title of Alpha just out of Astrid's reach, then that spoiled brat has no power over me. Lila's presence and her evident distaste for the situation offer me a sense of security, and I'm grateful for her unwavering support.

"How many died?" Aimee suddenly asks, the burning anger still present in her chocolate coloured irises.

I shake my head and shrug. "No idea. Maybe one at least."

There's a silent pause between us, not an awkward one, but one long enough to let me sink into my thoughts.

I wonder whether I should tell her about Evans. Regarding my misgivings, regarding his peculiar, nearly manic behavior. However, the first word tumbles back down as soon as it leaves my mouth. It only becomes more genuine if I speak it aloud and let someone else in on what I believe to be private. And I find that terrifying.

"How did you find out that I was here?" Changing the subject with a nervous swallow, I ask instead.

She shoots me a sharp glance. "Come on, this is where he brought you, the whole pack knows." They are only discussing that. How it looks like he is playing you like a pawn." I get the feeling from her angry outbursts that she has other people on her hit list besides Astrid.

My face starts to get a little hotter and my heart starts to race, even though she just said a pronoun.

Stop, for heaven's sake.

"Talking about being a pawn," Lila says, not caring that my anxiety is rising. "Jaime is requesting you." At the pack house, he is waiting.

Is that what he is asking for? He sent his son to play high stakes hide and seek with me after ordering that I be put back in that hellhole, and now he has the audacity to ask for me?

"For fu_”

She abruptly stops me and says, "You are going, and so am I."

Every time I release my breath, it appears hazy before me. The air is dry and cold. The ground is still icy, a sobering reminder of my bleeding bare feet from the day before.

With Lila's hot breath fanning the back of my neck, I open the pack house door.

"Is it okay if I come?" She makes a gentle inquiry. In response, I shake my head and tell her that I will take care of it. I persuaded her to wait outside after we argued for about a minute.

I head toward the living room down the dark hallway. As we approach a fireplace, its radiating warmth grows.

Jaime bolts from the leather couch as soon as we walk in. His elongated legs extend, undoubtedly holding stored-up energy. His eyes meet mine, and his fingers curl into strained fists again and again.

He is not happy. Nor am I, either.

I can already hear what he is going to say when he opens his mouth.

"You refused my order when I gave it to you." In his trademark condescending, embarrassed tone, he says it. That is precisely the tone he employs whenever he wishes to make someone feel bad about something that is not their fault.

I want to say that even though I gave you my allegiance, you did not seem to care. I bite my tongue though, just for once, as if the room's silence were giving me time to reflect.

On one of the nearby couches, I spot Astrid relaxing by the fireplace. To my complete surprise, he keeps his head down as he cradles his right hand in his lap. His shoulders are hunched over and his head is lowered. comparable to a dog that has just been neutered.

He spits the final word through his teeth in disgust, "I want to know what is going on between you and that tyrant." As if he did not get it out quickly enough, it would soil his mouth.

"W–" Before I can finish answering, he interrupts me.

To Astrid, he growls, "Tell her what you smelled." I think for a split second that I see the golden boy jump.

Astrid states, "His scent was circling us." His voice is so full of arrogance that it hardly sounds like his.

That being the case, Astrid ceased to follow me. Hence, he gave up on something for the first time in his affluent life for that reason. It is not that he lost interest in me, that I outlasted him, or that he changed his heart and released me. That was because Evan's presence threatened him, his scent was there. serving as a barrier between Astrid and myself.

I do not say anything. I make an effort not to read too much into it, but how can I resist?

"Assume this is a temporary situation." Jaime breaks the glimmer of hope my wolf instincts had begun to stir, as though he could read my thoughts.

"After this issue is resolved, he will not be available to step in and impose your penalties. Moreover, he will not have any motivation to."

His tone is icy. deliberately apathetic. It is actually self-serving. Avery, try not to get attached. You are not his friend. You are just a piece of ground to him."

This time, I do not allow him to say anything more without a lengthy silence. I can not even slightly loosen my jaw. It will eventually reach its breaking point if I leave it unopened for any longer.

In your eyes, what am I? I lose it, fixing my dead gaze on this pathetic excuse for an Alpha. I thought highly of him for many years, even admiring him. He reminded me of my father at one point. But do not things change, just like that?

I snarl, "You are a goddamn liar if you say anything other than that you are a pawn or a waste of space." As I dare say my next words, my hands are shaking and my heart is racing. "That baby should have been left where you found it, in the rain."

Jaime and I have this game where we just stare at each other without saying anything. He does not display or react with anger. However, he is not required to. I sense it engulfing the space and preparing to engulf each of us.

When he does respond, it is a detached response.

I am going to revoke my lockdown order. for the time being. Leave my sight"

I can tell that he should accept the truce without him having to say so.