Chapter 18 - Amelia
“Hey… Mind if I come in?” A sweet, lilting voice asks timidly from the doorway.
Putting the last fold on one of Damita’s spare blankets, I turn and offer the young woman a smile.
“Please come in. I was just packing my things away,” I sigh as I glance at the empty wardrobe with its doors wide apart.
“Would you like some help?” The pretty blonde woman with bright blue eyes smiles broadly at me. When I nod, she enters the spare bedroom in the main house in Fort Smit—the Nightclaw Pack’s territory.
Even now that I’m here, packing mine and Damita’s handful of belongings I’d collected over the past four months into the wardrobe, it hasn’t really set in that we’d joined Dorian in his world.
In the world of werewolves, the woman who helps me pack is also a werewolf and extraordinarily friendly. It’s unlike anything I could have imagined, and I realize I was wrong about their kind only because of what I witnessed with Jackson and his henchmen of rogue misfits.
When Dorian showed up outside the lakehouse door, I’d become too stunned to process everything that happened. Not only did he demand that Damita and I would join him in his pack, but he slept over at the cottage last night.
That’s why I’m irritable right now—I couldn’t get a wink of sleep while he slept on the sofa. I’d just been wallowing in my resentment for him while trying to wrap my head around my new reality.
Now I’ve had to move into his primordial mansion in a small farm-like town called Fort Smit. Despite my inhibitions, I was impressed by how self-sufficient the werewolf pack is as they grow their own crops and stick to trading with each other.
According to Dorian, the pack was formed by his uncle who’d rescued stray werewolves who’d been living as rogues without their own packs. They’d built a community that now thrives independently of the human world, living peacefully out here.
It’s something I can get used to, even if I can’t fathom that I’m meant to be the pack’s Luna—whatever that means. It’s supposedly some form of royalty amongst werewolves, and ever since we arrived, the woman who’s helping me now has been doting on my every move.
“So…” she begins once everything is packed away. “... How do you feel about becoming the Luna?”
The twinkle in her eyes indicates that I’m supposed to be excited.
“I don’t know,” I shrug nonchalantly, heading to the crib set up in the corner to check on Damita, only to find that she’s sound asleep despite the disturbance of movement in the spare bedroom.
I’ve never seen her so peaceful, and it makes me glad that I made the right decision. Damita does deserve to have both her parents raise her, and that’s why I agreed to come here, even if my future here isn’t set in stone.
After all, Dorian didn’t consider me his mate until he found out about her. That’s the only reason he blackmailed me with our forced marriage and forced me into coming here.
I have no regrets, only the thoughts plaguing my mind.
What does any of this mean for Dorian and me?
“I don’t know how to feel, Ingrid,” I admit, feeling faintly drawn to the Beta’s mate who joins me on the bed and offers me a comforting smile. Her presence is warm, and her company is something I need right now, especially after having to say goodbye to another friend this morning.
“It’s exciting and nerve-wracking all at once, I can imagine,” she giggles lightly. “But being the Luna means that you get to rule the Nightclaw Pack alongside your mate.”
“But I’m human,” I frown.
Ingrid clicks her tongue. “We’re all a bunch of misfits in Fort Smit, and that’s what makes our pack unique. I’ve been hearing the whispers of the others, and they aren’t opposed to having a human as their Luna.”
“Even after knowing that it’s my brother who caused so much chaos and kidnapped their Alpha?”
Ingrid sighs. “We trust Dorian to rule the pack however he chooses to do that. Now that you’re here, we have more faith in him. We understand what happened out there, and we’re just glad that you saved our Alpha’s life.”
“I did?” I frown as Ingrid nods.
“He told Connor, and Connor told me. To him, you were his guardian angel, and he saw you as his true mate.”
I gasp as I digest this new information, realization dawning on me in steady waves that come together to form a bigger picture.
Did Dorian only reject me in the warehouse to save my life? In hindsight, I wouldn’t have left his side if he didn’t break my heart like that.
“He really said that…” I lament, glancing over my shoulder at the crib where Damita sleeps. It’s not because of her that he demanded we come back with him. He came to find me even though he had no idea of her existence.
Maybe I was seeing it through the lens of my heartbreak, and couldn’t see that he came back for me in the end.
“Of course he said that, Amelia,” Ingrid insists as she places a hand over mine. “Alpha Dorian must really cherish you. He said he didn’t kill the hybrid only for your sake. He couldn’t let it happen, knowing that you might want to speak to your brother again.”
I gulp hard, dropping my gaze to the rug on the floor as a shiver travels down my spine. Dorian told me that Jackson was still alive, held in a dungeon just behind the local clinic. He knew how torn I was that my brother became a monster, and how much I’d been clinging onto the past when Jackson and I were close.
Not only did Jackson lead Dorian to me, but he’s slowly returning to his human self, even if it’s enough to make him remember who he truly is.
“Will you take me to the dungeon?” I ask Ingrid, who frowns at my request.
“You wanna see him, don’t you?”
I shake my head. “I wanna speak to him.”
***
The sound of dripping water ticking away is eerie in the sinisterly dark enclosure of the dungeon. With my heart lodged in my throat and my breath caught in the mix, I will myself to keep going forward until I reach the opening ahead.
Dorian already offered that I could go see my brother if I wished to, but I’d declined when he first told me about it. But when I spoke to Ingrid earlier today, I realized that Dorian only had good intentions, and I should be able to trust his judgment.
He wouldn’t have kept Jackson alive if it wasn’t because of me. After all the trauma he suffered because of my brother, he must have kept him alive when he saw something in Jackson that hinted at his humanness.
“Jackson…?” I call out, my own voice bouncing off the walls and returning to my ears like a haunting echo.
“Amelia? Is that you?”
As soon as Jackson’s voice comes back, I rush forward until I find him tied to chains tethered to the walls on either side of him. His hair is overgrown, his lanky form drained so much that he’s nothing but a skeleton covered in skin.
When I meet his eyes, dark and hazed with his sufferings, I’m reminded of mine and Dorian’s suffering at his hands. The haunting memories come crashing in waves which prompt me to turn and go back the way I came from.
I can’t believe that I thought this was a good idea—to come here and speak to the man who abused us.
“Amelia! W-wait!” Jackson croaks out, prompting me to stop as I take a deep breath with my back facing him.
The shuddering breath helps me swallow down the lump in my throat, but I can’t turn around lest he sees the tears in my eyes.
“What do you want to say to me, Jackson?” I ask as I cross my arms to hug myself for comfort while I strengthen my resolve and refuse to shed any tears. “Whatever it is, this is the last time you’ll see me.”
Jackson sighs heavily behind me, a moment of silence stretching before he finally speaks up.
“I’m sorry, Amelia. I truly am,” he whimpers. “I’d become so consumed with Dad’s work, that I lost sight of the initial objective. I started by injecting the rogues’ blood in me, and it twisted my views and messed with my head. It wasn’t me, I swear.”
Gulping again, I quietly sniff and find the courage to turn to face my brother. There’s just something about the sadness in his voice that hints at his remorse, and the little compassion I have left. It’s because we’re family, and that acknowledgment has me turning around. His eyes are lowered and I’m better for it.
“I told you when Dad died that you were making a mistake but you didn’t listen to me. See where it’s gotten you, where it’s gotten us.”
“Forgive me, Amelia,” he wails desperately, tears rolling down his cheeks. “There’s nothing more I can say, except that I regret what I did, and I’ll accept my fate.”
With his head hanging and his will broken, I feel powerful over him and it’s enough to have me strolling over and squatting in front of him. That’s when he meets my eyes at last, and only a fleeting flicker of recognition passes through me.
“I don’t want Dorian to kill you,” I admit, my eyes narrowing at him like blades of fury. “You should pay for what you did to us, but killing you would be too easy. I want you to suffer from whatever your conscience decides to throw at you.”
“You’ve become strong, mi hermana,” he marvels. “Mom and Dad would be proud.”
Glowering at him, another flicker of compassion grips my heart. Our parents would be proud of me, but not of him—even if he’d led the werewolves to a cure for cancer that would help humanity.
What he did remains unforgivable, but my soft heart is my undoing when a stray tear leaves my eye.
“I am only strong thanks to you, Jackson,” I scoff. “You forced me into a marriage with the Alpha and threw us in a cage together. I received the best thing that’s ever happened to me, through you. That’s what made me strong.”
Jackson’s eyes suddenly light up and he gawks. “You had a child, didn’t you?”
As I rise to my feet and tower over the man who once had power over me, his eyes follow me.
“You’ll have to live the rest of your days knowing that you will never meet your niece.” When he gasps, I take the pleasure of being in control as I spin on my heel and march down the stone alley toward the ladder at the top.
Once I’ve climbed out of the dungeon, I feel a weight lift off my shoulders as I let out the breath I’d been holding in and breathe in the crisp night air while the moon hangs like a painting in the sky.
I feel like I can finally move on, strolling through the meadow and making my way to the main house. I’m just about to approach the front door when it opens and Dorian walks out.
“Thank you for coming,” he says before another man follows him onto the porch. When he steps out, I recognize him as Dorian’s brother from what he described.
Damian is a younger version of his brother, only with a cropped haircut and a permanent scowl on his sharp features.
Making my way toward them, Dorian spots me and his lips curl to a smile that beckons me closer.
“There you are!” he cheers. “I was just telling my brother about you.”
“Good things, I hope,” I giggle as I climb the steps and join them on the porch.
Damian offers out a hand. “I’m Damian. It’s nice to meet you, Amelia.”
“Likewise,” I say as I shake his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you, and I’m glad to see you visiting Dorian.”
Damian coughs nervously into a fisted hand against his mouth. “I’ve decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s suffered a lot for the werewolves. Though I can’t understand why—”
Damian’s voice is lost to a loud “Bang!” that goes off behind the house, followed by some rustling that tapers off into daunting silence.
“What was that?!” Dorian exclaims as he rushes off and leaps over the balustrade.
As Damian races toward him and they disappear behind the house, panic erupts inside me and sets my pulse alight. It’s that instinct that has me sprinting into the house and taking the stairs two at a time with only Damita on my mind. Something doesn’t feel right, and I discover why I feel so panicked when I find my daughter’s crib empty and the window in the guest bedroom broken.
“Dorian!” I cry through the gaping hole of the window. “Damita’s gone!”