Nox's POV Time drags out. Minute by minute. The ride back to the pack house drags out. That terrible feeling only intensifies. “Stop.” I shout, “stop the car. Now.” Before Gideon brings the car to a complete stop, I leap out and run back down the street to the object that caught my eye. Luggage. Nova’s luggage. Suddenly, it gets too hard to breathe, the ground starts to teeter beneath my feet. This can’t be real. This is a dream. A nightmare. “It’s Nova’s. What the fuck is it doing out here?” I holler to no one in particular. Roman and Michaela stand dumbstruck and silent. Gideon mutters lies. It’s not hers, there’s an explanation. It is hers and there is no explanation. I trail along the street, sniffing her out. The trail is getting colder by the second, but I follow it into the woods. What the fuck was she thinking? Without wasting a second, I follow it. It doesn’t take much to figure out that I’m heading straight to the pack house. Barging in through the back door, I immedia
The air within the room thins as Cato goes to leave. He stops short and time stands still as he lingers in the doorway, a dark glare to his eyes, sinister smirk on his lips. “Get comfortable. You’re gonna be staying for awhile.” He doesn’t linger to take in the horror his words cause. Instead, he chuckles and slams the door shut, an audible click sounds from the otherside. As if being handcuffed to a bed isn’t enough. Suddenly, I’m forced to face my fate head on. Locked away like a prisoner, held captive by wolves. The silence from Cato’s retreat doesn’t come. Voices sound from outside. An argument. And my so-called sister is instigating it. Before my voice box can let a single peep out, Twyla snaps, “you’re welcome.” You’re welcome? What does that even mean? Sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging at the cuff, I strain to get as close to the door as possible. “Don’t let your ego get too large. One could say that your useless now.” Cato taunts. “Useless? She wouldn’t even be in
My breath is held as the door creaks out. A booted foot steps inside the room. I can hear him tsk me for my bad behavior. “Already being unruly.” He crosses the room slow and meticulous. “We punish those that don’t obey. Do you want to be punished, Nova?” He’s close enough to touch me. “Because I can. Punish you.” “You don’t need to keep on threatening me. more. I know you're not above murder.” He laughs in my face. "Already making me out to be a monster.” That’s because he is. I can see the evil in his eyes, the riptide of anger that’s waiting to be unleashed. “I’m not monstrous. I just expect submission like any alpha would. Like Nox would.” I want to believe he’s lying but the truth is I don’t know Nox when it comes to his leadership role with Gideon’s pack. We’ve had our tiffs even all those years ago. I don’t remember what they were about, but I have the feelings. The residual ache that comes from being hurt. Cato’s eyes lock with mine, a glisten of red mixes within the dark b
37: Toddlers Have Temper Tantrums And To Them It Is Warranted Too. By time the room comes back into view, Tariq is blabbing about me giving him the silent treatment. He deserves worse than the silent treatment. He deserves a swift knee to the balls and sucker punch to the face. “I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances,” Tariq claims, but his genuineness falls short. It’s a flat out lie. Does he take me for an idiot? “Better circumstances? You’re joking, right? After what you did?” My words are sharp and venomous. “You do remember I was there. I watched you kill her.” The irony is too much. “You’re a murderer asking for better circumstances in meeting the daughter of the woman you killed.” His gaze flickers to the floor as if ashamed by his actions. But I have a feeling that Tariq isn’t capable of shame or guilt or even regret. “I didn’t-” “You didn’t what? Mean it? You tricked her into showing up, you even told her that she wouldn’t be alive to see the end result of your
Solitary has never intimidated me. But here. Here it’s terrifying. Nerves make my mind race and my body react. My stomach growls with imaginary hunger. My throat turns dry and scratchy. My bladder acts up even. All the things that could be easily taken away from me. Food, water and something as stupid as using a bathroom.I hold out as long as possible. How long that is, who knows. But sooner rather than later, I need to pee. “Cato. I know you can hear me,” you fucking asshole, “Cato.” My fists bang against the door. How I would love to piss on everything Tariq and Cato own, I don’t want to be stuck smelling it. “Cato.”Nothing. Silence. Grumbling under my breath, I slam my palm against the door one last time before retreating. Slumping down onto the bed, I try to get my mind to focus on something else other than needing to pee. Mind over matter, right?The fact that he’s ignoring me is what bothers me the most. Does he not realize how hard it is for me to call out for him, to purpose
I keep the charades up for days. Behaving nicely when Miranda comes to my aid. I hope she passes along a good word for me. Brags about how innocent and feeble I am. I haven’t tried to fight her once. That should be rewarded, right? Miranda’s arrival is announced by her light knocks before unlocking the door. I sit on the bed and look unthreatening. I like to think that I’m growing on her, that she trusts me, but I can’t be too sure. She’s been trained to remain emotionless or after years of abuse she’s learned to be a blank slate. Today she holds a long ivory dress in her hands. Immediately I freak out. A white-ish dress, Cato’s repulsive obsession with me. I’m nearly hyperventilating thinking about it. Her words are relieving, but still heavy upon my shoulders, “tonight you’re going to dinner.” She holds the dress up. “I’m here to help you get ready.” “Just dinner? It’s not some special occasion you’re not supposed to tell me about, is it? Like some ceremony to trap me here?” A s
I remain on edge after Cato’s whipping. Every little creak outside the door has me spiraling. Heart attack, panic attack, you name it, I crash and burn. I’m pushed into the submissive role for fear of getting another beating before I get the chance to heal from the last one. I can only imagine the smirks on their faces. The only face that visits me is Miranda’s. She cleans my wounds, changes my dressings. The lashings are still raw and sore, but I’m learning how to move without causing too much pain. Miranda comes like clockwork to walk me to the bathroom even though I don’t need to go. She urges me to drink some water from the tap and to eat the food that sneaks from the kitchen. I’m more than thankful for her, but I can’t help thinking that it’s come too late. Dark thoughts cloud my head. Maybe Tariq is right, Gideon isn’t coming for me and I need to face the future of staying here. Nights are the worst. Restless and anxious. Painful and exhausting. Nightmares and self induced de
Deja vu plays with my head. I wake up in a now familiar room. Voices argue just outside the closed door. I want to believe it was all a dream, but as I sit up in bed, the ache in my back reminds me of what happened. “He could’ve fucking killed her,” Nox snaps in a deep raspy tone. “But he didn’t. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.” Nexus has always tried to be the voice of reason. “I shouldn’t have to give her credit, because she should never be in a situation where she needs to be given credit for surviving. I’m supposed to-” Nexus cuts him off, “you can’t control everything.” This gets a deep grumble from Nox in reply, which has Nexus nearly shouting back at him. “No one is meant to be able to control everything.” “But this wouldn’t have happened if I did.” His guilt seeps through the door and into the room. “And she would hate you for it.” There’s a pause before Nexus continues. Once she does I realize the words are hard for her to say. They’re hard for me to hear.