9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Nyx
Once again, I feel utterly betrayed by my body.
I'm woken up by the sound of a click, and I spring up from the end of the bed where I've fallen asleep. I'm mad at myself for passing out for a few hours on top of the blankets. The damn mattress was too comfortable.
When the door pushes open, I'm already on my feet, sending a death glare to whoever is standing on the other side.
To my surprise, it's James. His face deadpans immediately upon finding me, a scowl appearing.
"Are you ever off ?" he snaps, taking in my hostile expression.
"Not here, I'm not," I shoot back, folding my arms.
He rolls his eyes. "Lucky me," he draws out sarcastically. "Your presence is required downstairs."
I deliberately stay put for a few seconds, watching as he becomes annoyed.
"Or stay here!" he near-shouts. "I don't care. I didn't want to do it anyway. I'll send Ezra to come get you."
At the mention of his name, I scoff. "You should send him," I say dryly. "I have a bone to pick with him."
Fucking asshole whacked me over the head.
I move forward, body checking him with my shoulder as I step into the hallway. But my confidence is short-lived as I take notice of the other people emerging from rooms. There's at least five alone, all staring at me with strange expressions—and by strange, I mean warm smiles. A few of them even wave at me.
James slams the door closed behind me, making sure to jab his elbow into my side as he glides past.
"Asshole," I mutter, resisting the urge to rub my rib cage.
"Bitch," he murmurs, making sure I hear him.
I follow him down the hallway as I avoid meeting the stares of the other pack members. When we reach the bottom, I find Sawyer waiting patiently. He takes in my appearance with a disappointed look on his face.
"We gave you the room with the shower," he grumbles, turning his nose up.
"If you think I'm going to take my clothes off anywhere near you folk, then you're truly delusional."
Sawyer and James share a look, before the former beckons me with two fingers. He leads me back into the dining room, and this time, I find the table covered with an assortment of food.
I ignore the rumbling in my stomach, hunger pains making me feel weaker than usual, but I instead indulge in my combative feelings, letting them fuel me instead.
"You're welcome to eat," Sawyer tells me, his tone already indicating that he knows I'm going to refuse. "Otherwise, Alpha Cade is ready to see you in his office."
There are a few people seated at the table, their curious eyes taking in my appearance. I glance over them quickly, before ripping my attention back to Sawyer. "Lead the way."
"Suit yourself," he shrugs.
James rolls his eyes, and I shoot him a look that could kill, daring him to start with me. His own eyes narrow in response, but he stands behind, bringing up the rear as Sawyer leads me through to the next room. We bypass it, heading through the kitchen—which is all white, to no one's surprise—before taking a sharp left turn to head down another corridor. The doors are mostly open along here, and I peek inside as we pass, spotting desks as I realize they are all offices.
When we reach the door at the end, I notice it's half open, and Sawyer pushes it with his hand. Immediately, I spot Cade behind a large oak desk, dressed in a periwinkle buttoned-up dress shirt. He glances up as the door opens, taking us all in with a smile.
"Good morning," he greets warmly, like we're all there willingly .
"Alpha," Sawyer says respectfully, stepping out of the way to make room for me.
I linger in the doorway, not moving, watching as Cade does the same as the others. His eyes slowly scan my body, a frown appearing.
"Do you like being covered in dirt or something?" he asks, but there's no animosity in his tone, just concern.
"I like not being a prisoner," I snap back, and I can sense James rolling his eyes behind me. I quickly find him over my shoulder, confirming my suspicions. "Keep doing that," I taunt. "You might find a brain back there."
"Okay, that's enough," Sawyer murmurs, placing a hand on my lower back and giving me a nudge into the room, putting space between us. "James, go find Matteo and Annabelle. We need to run over today's schedule with them."
James gives me a final glare before turning and stalking off. I can feel his anger radiating from his retreating form, and once he's out of view, I direct my attitude to the man behind the desk.
He leans back in his chair casually, visually assessing me with interest. I know I look like shit, but it annoys me that he appears professional and together. You can't tell that he spent the evening chasing after me through the woods—or that I punched and tackled him. There are no marks at all on his face, and I make a mental note to work on my ability to sucker punch someone.
I regret spending all my years of training focusing on my speed. I remember how much it used to amuse me, dodging Beta Alix's blows, giving everyone a run for their money with my speed. I guess Alpha Daxton and Beta Alix were right—you can't outrun an enemy forever. I should have learned how to attack when I had the chance, but I was too busy giving attitude and believing that it was over the top to do so much training. Oh, how naive I was.
"Did you manage to get some rest?" Cade asks casually.
I scoff. "Not really. I didn't trust myself to fall asleep."
It's not a lie, but I leave out the part where I did pass out for a few hours. Still, even with a few hours of rest, I am exhausted. The only other rest I've had since the night before Tyler's funeral was the few times I've blacked out from having my head smashed by a rock or passing out from exhaustion in the cell.
Cade nods thoughtfully. "Coffee?" He offers, gesturing to the other side of the office.
I turn my head, spotting an espresso machine in the corner. Damnit—coffee, my one weakness.
An internal battle rages in my head. I don't trust them not to poison my food, but if I make my own coffee with the machine, surely I would be safe. Right?
Against my better judgment, I give a small nod, watching as he smiles victoriously. He stands from his desk, heading in the direction of the machine.
"I've got it," I say quickly, rushing over and shoving him out of the way.
I'll make my own coffee—thank you very much. How hard can it be to work a little machine?
I grab a clean mug, fetching a pod from the box. I try to pretend not to notice Cade's close proximity as he lingers behind, watching. His scent is still overwhelming, a tug in my stomach as I feel the dreaded mate bond trying to pull me to him.
Shoving the pod into the top of the machine, I place the mug underneath, eyeing the buttons closely.
"It's this one," he mutters, reaching over my shoulder to point out the correct button.
"Yeah, yeah," I mumble, hitting the button a little too roughly. The machine whirls to life, and my stomach lets out a groan of appreciation as the smell of fresh coffee fills the room, temporarily blocking his scent.
He's still standing close behind me, and I resist the urge to jam my elbow into his stomach. I wonder if he senses my train of thought, because he quickly takes a step back, hovering for a few more seconds before returning to his desk.
With my freshly filled mug, I turn back around, gripping it like a weapon. Cade gives a nod to Sawyer, who understands the silent command, exiting the room. The door closes behind him, leaving us alone.
"Feel free to take a seat," Cade says, motioning to the ones in front of the desk. "Or don't," He laughs. "Completely up to you."
I narrow my eyes at his light-hearted joke, but sit down, clinging to the boiling hot mug.
"I imagine you have many questions," he starts, hitting a few keys on his keyboard.
"Sure," I agree. "When can I leave?"
His lips curve into a smile. "Any other questions?"
"What's the point of asking if you're not going to answer?" I shoot back.
Cade's blue eyes flicker over to me for a second before returning back to the screen. "Perhaps you could try to ask a more productive one. Are you always this defensive in the mornings?"
"Just to the people who kidnap me."
A laugh bubbles out of his mouth, fingers seemingly typing a message on the computer. When he doesn't answer, I shake my head, glancing around the office.
It's tidy—much like the rest of the house. There's a mahogany bookcase along the far wall next to the espresso machine, but it's the photographs on another shelf that grab my attention. Rows of captured memories fill the shelves, and Cade is easy to recognize in many of the pictures. But there's multiple other people in the photographs who aren't familiar. Judging by the way they are all comfortable—hugging and posing happily—I assume they are family pictures.
On the other side of the office, there's a series of black and white portraits on the wall. There's no people in these ones, just a common object—the moon. I frown as I look at them, recognizing the different stages of a lunar cycle. There's a picture of a full moon, a crescent moon, a solar and lunar eclipse, and a new moon.
What interests me even more is behind his desk in the corner, there's a telescope. It's pointed out of the large bay windows behind him, indicating that his celestial hobby takes place in this room.
Once again, I'm baffled by the fact that they seem decent. And finally, with that thought in mind, a question spills out of my mouth.
"You mentioned that you took me because you wanted to see if I was your mate," I start, watching as he pauses his typing to face me. "But yesterday, your pack asked which one I was. So, obviously I'm not the first person you've taken. Why is that?"
"I don't understand what you are asking," he answers. "Are you asking why we have brought new wolves to our pack? Or are you specifically interested in why I wanted to meet you?"
I growl in frustration. "You make it sound amicable. If you wanted to meet me, why didn't you just contact Alpha Daxton?"
"Because he never would have agreed to it," he answers simply. "Or Alpha Lex."
I notice he doesn't mention Maverick, and it makes me feel uncomfortable for some reason. But I ignore that feeling, circling back to my original question. "Why hunt and kidnap wolves?" I demand sharply. "It doesn't make much sense from what I've seen."
"What you've seen…" he repeats, curiously. "And what have you seen exactly?"
Gripping my mug tightly with my right hand, I throw my left one up in exasperation. " This ," I say, gesturing to the photographs. "Normalcy, structure. I expected…"
"Barbarians?" he answers with amusement.
I nod. "Exactly! I'm struggling to understand what your motive is—or your intentions."
"Oh, I see," Cade responds, deep in thought. "You think we're the hunters that have been targeting packs."
My jaw drops. "Aren't you?" I accuse.
"Of course not."
Scoffing, I take a sip of coffee so I don't fling the mug at his fathead. "Well, excuse me for getting it wrong," I mutter sarcastically into my mug. "Hunters… kidnapping females from their pack—surely you can see how I connected the dots to make that assumption."
He grins at me, revealing twin dimples. "You're cute when you're worked up. But exhausting. I can see why you need multiple mates."
"What the fuck do you mean by that?" I snap, feeling flustered by his comment that I'm cute—especially since I look like crap.
"Obviously you need more than one person to rein you in."
"I don't need to be reined in! I just need to not be kidnapped."
Cade laughs, frustrating me even more at his dismissal of the severity of the situation. Sensing my impending mug throw, he holds up a hand. "We seek out wolves from other packs that we believe to be the mates of our pack members. Marie helps us determine who that might be."
"That's the biggest bullshit I've ever heard."
"It's true," he shrugs. "We don't believe in forcing connections. We just need to— how would you put it? —speed up the process."