Chapter 12 #2
As for Alastair, I shouldn’t have run from him. Last night I wasn’t ready for that sudden attack, not thinking clearly that I’m so much stronger now. Now I’d fight him to the death if he pressed. Mr. Moris has that silver-bullet rifle ready. Romero, though… I don’t know how to feel.
“Fine, your call,” he mutters.
That ends our conversation. The rest of the ride, I stay silent, thoughts tangled around Romero. The wind is the only sound against our speed. The Harley takes two hours to reach the club. Slower than Romero’s Rider, but it works.
Once we reach the club, I thank Mr. Moris briefly and slip inside. A notice at the entrance says the gladiator club is closed for the day. Likely because Mr. Moris went to pick me up.
I run up the stairs to my room on the third floor, lock the door, and collapse onto the bed, face buried in the pillow, crying. Guilt drags me back into my gloom. My heart twists thinking of Romero still searching for me.
That man’s invitation tempts me. Last night, I agreed, and it led to a passionate evening. But waking up this morning, reality crashes back. I can’t do it.
Taking a position as Luna? Impossible. I can barely control my own wolf, let alone lead others. Not right now. I’m not ready.
“I’m a monster, nothing more. Luna? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Hush now. You can’t keep belittling yourself. We’re not monsters. We’re just a Lycan. Once you learn to control me, we’ll be fine,” Mythril says softly. I shake my head.
I made my decision years ago. I will remain rogue, alone in neutral territory. Then why does it feel wrong? Every time I think of freedom without a pack, my mind drifts to Harlow.
Something is clearly off. My feelings shift faster than I can grasp. I feel guilty, disgusted with myself, but it’s the truth.
I can’t pretend I feel nothing. Drowning in confusion, tears soaking my pillow, I drift into a deep, restless sleep.
* * *
I laugh freely with a family that loves me completely. Under a shady tree and across a wide grassy field, playful wolf pups tumble around me, their little paws nudging me, inviting me to join in.
I turn to a woman smiling brightly. Her face glows with a light so brilliant it makes my eyes squint. I can’t make out her features clearly—only the shimmer of a radiant, silvery glow.
She laughs and waves at me. She gestures toward someone approaching from the other side. I follow her hand, my heart quickening.
A tall, broad-shouldered man strides toward me, a smile that’s both warm and teasing lighting his face. His face is blinded by sun, but the moment he calls my name, it’s full of care and gentle affection.
* * *
“Bree!” Someone pounds on my door, jolting me awake. “Bree, you in there?”
I blink a few times, disoriented, then slowly wake up. Yes. It is all just a dream.
“Yeah,” I answer from inside the room. I hurry to the door, open it, and find Jo standing there.
“Hey. You okay?” she asks.
“I’m fine. Sorry if I scared you.” I give her a weak smile, leaning my head against the doorframe.
“Thank goodness.” Jo lets out a breath. “Last night freaked me out bad,” she says. “I really wish I could’ve stood my ground and fought that brute, but my legs were so weak I could barely stand straight. Only Mr. Moris could push back against his dominance and chase him out of the club.”
“Yeah. That’s what an Alpha’s dominance does to most of us. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I just thought you’d never come back.” She rises onto her toes and pulls me into a brief hug.
I laugh softly and hug her back. “No, don’t worry. I’m happy staying here.”
“That’s good,” she says, releasing me with a relieved sigh. “I’d be real sad if I lost my only friend in this place.”
“I’m not leaving,” I tell her.
She studies my face, frowning. “Have you been crying? You look awful.” Her eyes drop to my wrist. “Did you hurt your hand?”
“Oh, this?” I glance at the bandage, surprised by how light it feels now. There is no pain anymore, and my wrist moves easily. Maybe the compress has been on for hours.
“It’s nothing. Just a small injury. It’s already healed, and I just need to take it off.”
Harlow slips back into my thoughts. The man in my dream could have been him. He was so kind to me, and I left him with a terrible goodbye. If Mr. Moris had not come to pick me up, maybe I would have gone with him and chosen life as a rogue.
“Weren’t you sulking earlier and already stomping away from him?” Mythril teases, her giggle sharp and annoying.
“We made up,” I reply, irritated and embarrassed.
“Well, good then.” Jo nods. “Mr. Moris said you skipped lunch and went straight to your room. He said you can take some rest for today.”
“What time is it?”
“Five o’clock.” She hesitates.
I exhale a deep breath. “I’ll work.”
“You sure you’re up for it?” Her brows pull together.
“I ate before meeting him, so I’m fine. And I need some distractions from all this. Keep getting bad dreams in my sleep.” I exhale, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Besides, I caused enough trouble last night. I can’t just sit around while everyone else cleans up my mess.”
“All right,” she says with a sigh. “Just promise me you won’t push yourself too hard.”
“I promise.”
She nods and heads back to her room. I turn toward the walnut wardrobe in the corner and pull out a sleeveless black shirt and knee-length denim shorts.
When I look into the mirror, I have to admit she is right. I look disheveled, hair tangled, eyes red and swollen. In this state, a shower is my only hope.
I sit on the edge of the bed and start unwrapping the bandage on my wrist. Slowly, layer by layer, it comes loose, and only then do I realize how carefully it was wrapped.
“Wow. He really knows how to treat wounds. Think he can fix your broken heart too?” Mythril teases again.
“No. Unless he learns emotional manipulation magic, which is considered black magic, and I’m sure he wouldn’t do that to anyone,” I answer.
I lift my hand and examine it. The swelling is gone. The redness has faded. My wrist feels light, normal. Fully healed.
My thoughts drift back to the dream. The scenery looks like the hill in Silver Moon, yet I don’t recognize the woman or the man. If it is some kind of vision about Harlow, does that mean I will see him again? The question lingers, quiet and unsettling.
* * *
“Brianna.”
“Yes?” I turn at Jo’s call. Tonight, she is working as the receptionist in the lobby.
“Mind walking those gentlemen up to their room? Second floor, room twenty-eight.” She slips a key card into my hand.
“Sure thing.” I lean closer and lower my voice. “So, are they hot?”
“Scorching,” Jo says, winking before she giggles.
I nod and head toward the two men, who are busy taking in the place. As always, the club is dim, washed in muted blue and pink light that softens every edge and keeps secrets tucked in shadow. From about five feet away, a familiar scent reaches me. Bergamot and fern. I freeze mid-step.
When one of them turns toward me, my heart drops straight into my stomach. My fingers tighten around the key card as my chest begins to pound. My breath catches, fear widening my eyes. The same shock flashes across his face.
“Alexa?” He says my real name.
By then, it’s already too late to run.